Chapter 60
When Charlie calls asking Ingrid to lunch so quickly after reading Maggie’s script, she knows it could only mean one thing.
Ingrid arrives at Matsuhisa in Beverly Hills, Nobu’s original place.
She hasn’t slept well since the poolside transfusion with Maggie, when she made a point of gobbling up strawberries while the girl looked on, horrified.
Up until now, she’s always seen Maggie as the victim in the story she told.
Now she wonders what Charlotte probably felt, having to deal with this random girl who was taking over her life.
It was enough to make her call Dr. Hayes, asking whether nine transfusions were good enough.
He urged her to keep going. “You only have one more. Just finish up with Maggie. You’re so close. ”
Charlie’s already in the restaurant, sitting next to a stack of pages, which she presumes is Maggie’s script. She slides into the seat next to him, trying to stay optimistic.
“Hi.” Ingrid smiles. “How are you?”
They chitchat about the latest industry gossip. Ingrid orders a drink, then points casually to the pages.
“So what do you think?” she asks.
“To be honest?” Charlie asks with a regretful sigh.
Shit. Ingrid gestures wildly for the waitress, trying to buy herself some time. She orders a bunch of random sushi and appetizers.
“I know,” Ingrid says when the waitress leaves. “Well, it’s not ready. I told her not to send it, but you know this generation. They need constant feedback…”
“I gotta say, I was surprised. When we had lunch, I really liked her ideas. I thought it was going to feel fresh and original and quirky,” Charlie says, reaching for his green tea. He points to the script. “But this just feels…old. And forgettable. I feel like I’ve already seen this movie.”
Ingrid fiddles with her chopsticks. Old and forgettable. Ouch. The script wasn’t ready, but it wasn’t that bad. But experience tells her it’s pointless arguing with an executive who’s dead set on panning something. So she nods and fiddles with her soy sauce dish. “Right…”
“In the end, I wasn’t sure what this movie was trying to say. Go to Europe, and all your problems will be solved? Find a villa, and a pool boy will make you dinner?” He scratches his head. “That doesn’t sound like the next chapter in feminism to me…Am I wrong?”
“I mean, I think it’s supposed to be a fantasy…” she mutters.
The waitress arrives with their edamame. Charlie picks up a green bean. “Well, I just wasn’t feeling it.”
As Charlie goes on and on, explaining all the parts that stuck out to him as being far-fetched or out of touch, Ingrid forces herself to grin and bear it. She has a logical rebuttal to everything he’s saying, but she knows none of it matters. He’s already decided the story doesn’t work.
“I guess I’m just trying to figure out what happened here. You had to have seen the script going sideways.” Charlie studies her. “Did you try to work with her?”
The soybeans harden in her throat.
“Of course I tried to work with her.”
“So she was inflexible. She wouldn’t listen, was that it?” Charlie continues.
As Charlie takes another sip of his green tea, Ingrid carefully considers her options.
She can tell him the truth, which is that Maggie has another version of the script, one Ingrid doesn’t like.
But one that arguably feels fresher. Charlie might like that one.
Though it’s equally possible he might not, and then he’ll be wondering how she let Maggie arrive at two bad scripts.
He’ll wonder if there’s a better producer for the project.
She will be forgettable, not just the script.
And then where will they be? What will happen to Summer Rain and all the other big, feminist movies she still needs to make? To the hard-earned progress she’s achieved at the studio? What is the point of throwing both of them under the bus when one of them could be saved?
And so she preemptively says the words she knows Charlie is thinking anyway.
“I think we gotta think of other options.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
She hates herself for this next part. “Luckily, I’ve been meeting with other writers.”
Charlie’s whole face brightens.
“Remember Mel? Now, I know you didn’t like her take, but after I bumped into her at Tasha’s premiere, I had lunch with her.
She’s got a new pilot that she just sold to Netflix.
She’s young and dynamic and a total team player.
I know she’s interested in writing the script.
I think she could infuse it with the quirky, chaotic fun that we’re looking for.
But we gotta jump on this before her show at Netflix moves forward. ”
Charlie beams, holding up his green tea. “That’s what I love about you! Always thinking ahead.”
Ingrid moves her frozen fingers around her hot tea.
As they clink glasses, she tells herself she’s making the right move for the story.
It’s not personal, it’s business. There will be other opportunities for Maggie.
At least her foot’s in the door now. She got her first gig.
She got paid. She got an agent. With this on her résumé, she’ll get more jobs, maybe get staffed on a show, and slowly climb her way up.
Ingrid’s fingers are starting to warm when Charlie brings up Cassie.
“By the way, did you know Cassie turned down my offer on her script?”
“What?”
“Yeah, I just heard. Apparently she’s applying to Tasha’s incubator program,” Charlie says. “Which, I have to say, is very impressive. It takes a great deal of maturity for a young person to say, hold on, I want to learn everything I can from other people before putting something out there.”
As Charlie blathers on, Ingrid doesn’t hear a word. All she can think about is the fact that her daughter picked Tasha over her.
She feels dead inside.