Chapter 56 Pitch
It’s been seven days.
I’ve sent out eight apologies to Hinge men I dated.
I saw my therapist for the first time in six months.
I went to five Pilates classes.
I sent my father to voicemail twenty-seven times.
I wrote a chapter for Reed.
And I obsessively worked on my pitch.
The chapter picks up the day after we became “something real,” filling in all the Ted-ridden gaps in our communication and covering all the existential long-distance relationship crises. It explains everything, up to the moment he appeared at my door. I popped it into an email with the word link.
I have not received a response.
And I have not been given permission to come back to work.
But it’s 10:30 a.m. exactly as I stroll out of the elevator, head held high, onto the fourth floor of The Minute building in pink heels and my best black business suit, clutching my laptop and a folder full of materials against my torso.
My heart feels like a Ping-Pong ball, bopping between my chest and my shoulder blades in rhythm with my steps across the floor.
Micah walks two feet behind me, with his briefcase.
The meeting starts at 10:30. Micah said it would be better this way—less time for someone to throw up an inane roadblock on our way in.
Time slows as I make my way to the conference room. My coworkers bug their eyes as I stride by, leaning toward their neighbors to whisper whatever they feel they need to say at the sight of me back in the office.
Maya’s standing at the back of the conference room, at the head of the table, when I push open the door.
“Our Love Today rep is unfortunately out today, but we have her assistant Victor, who—”
“Actually I’m here!” I raise my hand by the door.
Victor whips his head in my direction and exhales, falling back against his chair.
He texted me three days ago to let me know that Maya had pulled him aside.
The higher-ups intended to have him take this meeting and pitch in my place.
They didn’t want to lose the opportunity.
I told Victor that I’d be coming in, so he must have been sweating bullets when I didn’t pop up earlier.
I recognize three of the board members from my renegotiation meeting sitting at the table, plus a twenty-something, pretty Southeast Asian woman and a middle-aged blond woman in a blue blazer and white blouse. The producer.
I googled her the second I got her name from Maya, weeks ago. Florence Leighton. She has two hit shows already: an action thriller on , and a dramatic romance on Hulu. She’s hoping this can shape up to be a heartfelt rom-com for Netflix.
Maya smiles, eyes flashing with surprise as I move to the front of the room.
“Miss Romona, you are currently suspended from the premises,” one of the board members says as the other two stiffen. “Alan, call security.”
Micah steps up and places his briefcase on the table.
“Actually, Matthew, Ms. Romona owns the film rights and copyright to the Love Today podcast, a project that she herself started and fostered into the burgeoning hit it is for this establishment. As you know, prior to her involvement, Love Today was just a small column, and that column had nothing near the publicity you’re seeing it get today due to the draw of Ms. Romona’s articles and successful podcast.”
“Excuse me—” Matthew protests.
“Being that the podcast is the property Ms. Leighton is looking to acquire and adapt,” Micah continues, “Rikki has the explicit right to pitch to her as an independent contractor, rather than an extension of The Minute.” Micah turns an apologetic look toward Florence.
“Ms. Leighton, we’re very sorry for the confusion today.
The board is attempting to execute a tried-and-true corporate tactic to devalue Ms. Romona’s worth in lieu of her contract renegotiation and what should be a considerable salary bump.
Her suspension was and remains entirely unethical and was in response to a security breach that was entirely out of her control.
” Micah shoots Matthew a saccharine smile.
“You’ll all be hearing more from me about that at a later time. ”
“I’m sorry—who the hell are you?” Matthew snaps.
“Oh, we’ve met via email. During her initial contract negotiations. I’m Micah Tang, Rikki’s lawyer.”
“Her—I. Mmm.” Matthew glances at me, and then at his coworker Alan, who’s holding his phone aloft.
“Am I calling security or not calling security?” he asks.
Micah serves Matthew a hard look. “I wouldn’t call them if I were you.”
Matthew grips the bridge of his nose. “I”—he glances down at his lap—“don’t call them.”
Matthew’s eyes slice back to me. I cut him an enthusiastic nod before walking over to where Florence sits and holding out a hand. “Florence, it’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for coming all the way out here today. Again, so sorry for the commotion.”
She grins at me, with wide I’m sorry for whatever all of that is eyes and shakes my hand.
“Rikki, I’m so thrilled to meet you! I’m a huge fan.
I was about to be so bummed when Maya started explaining that you weren’t here to do the pitch.
I’m excited to see what you have for us today.
This is my coproducer, Dawn, who will be working on this project with me. She’s also a huge fan.”
I blink at the younger woman sitting next to her and shake her hand as well. “Thank you both so much for being here.”
“Thank you for having us!” Dawn beams.
Florence and Dawn smile at me with kind, welcoming eyes and expectant expressions that light a warm, calming fire in my chest. I glance over to find Maya grinning as well.
Micah’s whisper-arguing with Matthew at the back of the room.
He shoots me a thumbs-up.
I heave in a deep breath and walk back to the front of the table. “Okay, let’s jump in.” I pull out two copies of the pilot script, and the synopsis of season one, and pass them to Florence and Dawn.
“I am überpassionate about the Love Today podcast. It’s my baby, and I have dreamed about working with a team on a creative effort like this for years.
If we move forward, I would love to take on the role of showrunner for this project.
” I swallow at the nerves in my throat. “As far as comps go, it’s giving Fleabag meets Couples Therapy meets Shrinking.
I’ve written the first four episodes of a thirteen-episode season.
I have a treatment for season one and then outlines of the major beats for seasons two through five. ”
I open my laptop, and it connects to conference-room TV. My newest Canva presentation pops onto the screen.
“Let me introduce you to our protagonist.”
I am breathless, grinning at my little audience.
I don’t think I’ve ever explained something so smoothly in my entire life. I practiced this four times yesterday, and none of those four times were as engaging and stumble-free as this one right now.
They laughed with me and got somber during the sad bits and beamed during the parts with character growth.
My insides are glowing with pride. “So, that’s what I’m visualizing. I know you probably want to read through everything, look at the scripts for the next couple episodes. Do you have any questions? Concerns? I’m happy to address any and all of them. I really hope we get to collaborate on this.”
“Rikki.” Florence grins. “I love this so much.”
“For real. It’s exactly what we’re looking for,” Dawn adds.
I laugh, clapping my hands by accident due to overwhelming excitement. “Thank you! I’m so happy to hear that!”
“Are you available to start immediately?”
I blink at Florence. “Um, start . . . what?”
“Start work on the show? I came in here already 90 percent sold on you. I’ve been listening to the podcast since you started last year and reading your column religiously, and this just sealed the deal. You’ve got the job.”
I blink at her and shake my head. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’ve already been putting together a team of writers—Dawn is one of them.” She gestures to her coproducer. Dawn smiles at me. “Can we set you up to come out to LA for the next sixteen weeks? We’ve got a soft green light from Netflix, and we’re hoping to start shooting by end of March.”
Dawn laughs at the expression of pure, undiluted shock that must be on my face right now. “This feels like fate. We’ve obviously been amping up to this for a few weeks and discussing what we wanted it to be—we’re totally vibing, like it’s literally exactly what we were looking for.”
Florence laughs. “I’m glad your lawyer is here. Ours is too. We can jump right in.”
I glance from Florence to Dawn to Maya to Micah. He’s sitting at the back of the table. He nods at me.
“Work as in . . .” I clear my throat. “Come on as a showrunner? Even though I’ve never worked that before.”
Florence nods. “Showrunner slash head writer. I’ll mentor you on the showrunner front.
Ideally you can come out and meet the writing team by the end of the week, and then we can get the writers’ room rocking by Monday.
I’ll start working with our casting team.
We’ve already got a pilot script. This is fantastic. ”
“Shows don’t usually work like this, right?” I blurt.
She laughs. “No. It helps that your podcast is a wildly successful hit, and I’ve got two shows doing pretty well right now.
I’ve been itching to make a rom-com my whole career, and I’m so thrilled you were game to adapt Love Today because it’s the highlight of my week, and I can’t wait to bring it to a visual medium. Sometimes you just know.”
I glance up at the ceiling. Universe?
I drop my gaze to Maya. “What do you think?”
“I think the idea’s fabulous. I can’t wait to watch. You’re gonna smash it.”
“I know you’re based out here,” Florence says. “We’ll get you set up with an apartment close to the offices to make the transition as quick and smooth as possible.”
Set me up with an apartment?
Out there?
As quick as possible?
I’m internally vibrating at a frequency so high, I wouldn’t be surprised if I spontaneously evaporated. This is . . . huge. This is a huge, dream-making, exciting, life-changing, unbelievable doesn’t-seem-real career moment and—
I’m going to live in the same place as Reed. I’m going to be able to fix things with Reed. I can do short-distance dating with Reed. I can’t wait to tell Reed. Get out there, set up my apartment, and invite him over.
What does it say about me that the most exciting part of this win is him?
I think of my neon-green binder. Pushing it on every adult I came into contact with.
The day I moved to New York. Graduating from Columbia.
Getting my masters. Earning my LMFT license after 4,500 hours of supervised counseling alongside doing reviews for Books Today.
The day I snagged the Love Today column with my piece about my breakup with Ted.
The morning I pitched the Love Today podcast to Maya, and three days later when she called me to say it had been approved by the board.
Prepping for the first episode. Interviewing potential assistants.
The day one of our historic worst-dates episodes went viral.
I know this day, this exact second, will cement itself as a paramount moment in the timeline of my life.
But Reed feels just as big.
Meeting him was a shift that feels just as important.
“What about the column and our podcast?” Matthew says from the corner.
I blink at him. “I thought you found me to be an unstable employee.”
“We’re open to renegotiating your contract.”
“That seems a little different from what you were saying thirty minutes ago. Maybe you can schedule a meeting with my lawyer.”