Chapter Fifty-Two
I detangled myself from Eli as the sun began to warm the bedroom with morning light. Careful not to wake him, I slid out from under the covers, clutching my phone to my chest.
Gingerly, I walked out to the kitchen, my body stiff from our activities and the kind of sleep that leaves you sweaty and disoriented. After slipping on a T-shirt and Eli’s robe, I sat down at the kitchen table with a granola bar and one of Leonard’s scripts.
As I flipped through the pages, I checked my phone and found a stream of notifications. I had vague memories of missed calls and text messages from yesterday, but I couldn’t imagine even speaking to anyone then, let alone anyone who didn’t know Leonard.
There were nine missed calls and sixteen text messages. All from Brody.
The messages were all some form of a request to talk and there were no voicemails.
How had we worked together for so long and he still hadn’t managed to remember that one of my major sources of anxiety was missed calls with accompanying we-need-to-talk texts and no other hints of what might be going on? It was emotional clickbait.
Just as I was weighing my options on how to respond, my phone rang again.
Brody. Of course.
And because I knew he would just keep calling until I answered, I found myself picking up.
“Hi.”
“Vera,” he said, and then took a pause. “I really did not expect you to answer.”
“I had a feeling that you would keep calling until I did.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry for the nonstop calls. It’s just . . . I didn’t know how to say this over text.” He paused for a second and cleared his throat. “And everything else too. I can’t blame you for not wanting to answer. I get it, but I need you to hear me out.”
“Okay,” I finally said after letting his words sit in silence. I was in no hurry to meet him halfway.
“I have two offers for you. First, I got a backer for my production company.” He went quiet for a moment, likely waiting for congratulations that would not be coming.
“Right,” he said to himself. “And I need you. The job would be sort of a creative director with some day-to-day responsibilities until we’ve expanded a bit more.”
What.
“Vera, this is the job you were made for.” His tone was heartfelt now and I could practically hear his longtime acting coach, Rolph, telling him to dig deeper. “You set the tone. The pay is fair. Good, even. Full benefits.”
I didn’t say anything, and he took my silence as indifference. If only that were true. My greedy little mind was whirring. Was this really happening? I couldn’t say yes. But what if this was the moment I’d waited years for? The moment I’d promised myself would make everything worth it?
“The second piece to the offer is that I’ve found our first acquisition. Your first duty would be to sign off on it.”
I sighed. “Sounds like you’re back-seat driving the job I haven’t even accepted.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me what the project is, Vera?” There was an amused lilt in his voice, and I hated how easy it was for him to feel familiar again. “I can hear you rolling your eyes,” he said.
With a huff, I gave in. “What project is it, Brody?”
“The Wunderkind,” he said simply.
My mouth dropped and the phone slithered down my shoulder and onto the table.
The volume was turned up enough that I could still hear him speaking, but my brain couldn’t translate what he was saying into anything meaningful.
I’d been staring at my half-eaten granola bar for a long moment when he finally paused. “Vera? You there? Vera?”
My hand trembled as I picked the phone back up and held it to my ear. “You—you can’t buy a script that doesn’t exist, Brody.”
He was quiet for a beat. “I had it recovered,” he finally said.
“After you drove off, the laptop fell off your car just outside the gates. When I came to see you, I had brought it with me, but then . . . then I don’t know.
I guess after how everything went down, I thought keeping it to myself would punish you in some kind of way—”
“That’s—”
“Fucked up,” he said. “I know. I felt awful about it, which is why I found the most expensive IT company out there and had them take a look to see if they could recover the files.”
“Did they?” I asked quietly, trying to hold on to some bit of indifference but failing hugely, even though I already knew the answer.
“Vera, it’s so good. I could practically hear you reading it aloud to me in my head. It’s everything you said you would write back in college. It was like we were sitting in your dorm all over again. We could attach two fresh faces with incredible chemistry to play Poppy and Arlo.”
I hated myself for it, but my chest swelled with pride. It wasn’t just about the script being good. It was that Brody thought it was good.
My god. I deserved an ass kicking for even caring.
He chattered on about casting ideas and taglines and alternative titles.
And all I could think was that I had to get off the phone before I agreed to something I might not be ready for—or that Brody couldn’t actually deliver on. Because that had been the last twenty years, hadn’t it? Brody dangling a carrot in front of me so that I would stay the course.
“I need to go,” I blurted.
“What— Oh. Okay. But please check your email, Vera. There’s a formal offer letter there.”
A formal offer letter? I didn’t know Brody was even capable of using that kind of business jargon. “Sure.”
I was already pulling the phone away from my ear when he said, “You promise?”
“Okay.”
I hung up before he could say another word or, even worse, before I could.
His attention was a flowering weed. So beautiful. So invasive.