Monday morning, I dress for a fight. A smart suit, not a hair out of place, impeccable makeup. I’m the image of a cutting-edge professional. My concealer is working miracles to hide the signs of a sleepless night. Yesterday, I arrived at home at 2 a.m. and spent the little sleep time I had tossing and turning, worrying about what Winthrop will have to say today.
But at 7.59 sharp I knock on his open door, looking almost fresh-faced. Thanks, Ms. Estée Lauder.
“Ah, Samantha.” Winthrop beckons me in. “I see you’ve survived farm life. I was worried.” My boss gestures for me to take a seat before his desk.
“Worried?” I ask, sitting on the chair with my back straight and on high alert. “Why?”
The boss leans back in his leather chair, interlacing his fingers. “Usually by the time one of your movies is completed, you’ve already presented me with ten ideas for your next project… but this time, nothing.” He whistles softly. “Total radio silence.”
The boss is right, so right. I’ve taken my eyes off the prize. Between the constant back and forth with Emerald Creek, how tired I’ve been, the fact that Celia is gone and my new assistant, Adele, isn’t properly trained yet, I haven’t read a single one of the two thousand screenplays piled on my desk. Celia was a great help in screening and making summary reports of the best ones for me to choose from. But I can’t trust Adele with that kind of responsibility, not yet. Of course, I can’t tell Winthrop any of this.
Instead, I lie through my teeth. “No need to worry, Boss, I haven’t put forward any new proposal because I’m working on something big at the moment and I wanted to make sure the pitch is up to par before I presented it to you.”
Winthrop studies me for a long time as if he can see right through my cow manure. “Good,” he says eventually. “Wrap everything up this week and be ready to show me your proposal next week. Tamara will fit your presentation into my calendar.”
I nod, ready to leave, when he adds, “I still haven’t assigned anyone to the Ember Crown franchise. You’d be perfect for such a high-profile job.”
I swallow—hard. Ember Crown is a three-part fantasy movie series shooting mostly in New Zealand.
The message is pretty clear: keep your head in the game, bring me something interesting, or else.
‘Else’ translating into me becoming his ship-around-the-world plodder.
I muster a half-smile and try to keep my walk steady as I backtrack out of his office.
Tamara, his secretary, schedules our meeting for next Wednesday at ten.
I’m not sure if knowing the time of my professional death is more comforting or disturbing. I wobble on my stilettos until I reach the safety of my office and shut myself in. Adele has at least learned not to disturb me when my door is closed.
I lean back in my chair and turn to stare out the window at the spectacular view of New York City.
My relationship with Travis is already strained; if Winthrop assigns me to a job in New Zealand with several literal oceans dividing us, we’re toast.
The alternative? Find a movie so good Winthrop won’t be able to say no.
I turn back to my desk, grab the first screenplay from the slush pile, and get to work.
* * *
I read, and read, and read. When Friday afternoon arrives, my eyes are bloodshot and I have to buy artificial tears because I’ve spent all the real ones. Since Monday, I’ve ruffled through what feels like a million screenplays while in actuality, I’ve skimmed maybe a third of my pile. I’ve been so obsessed with finding the perfect story, I forgot to leave enough time to actually put up a production plan around that mystical movie embryo that would save my love life.
Now, I’m tempted to pick one of the scripts I earmarked for potential at random and just go with it. Cancel my weekend trip to Emerald Creek and spend the next four days holed up in the office, concocting a presentation. But without the help of my team, they won’t be at the office on Saturday and Sunday, the sacrifice would basically be a waste. Plus, usually, when I present something to Winthrop, I already have tentative agreements with investors, a few members of the main cast, and definitely a director in mind. But I can’t call all these professionals sounding desperate. It’d be like swimming next to sharks with a flesh wound oozing blood.
This means I’m down to two possibilities: either quit my job and move to Emerald Creek, or keep my job and move to New Zealand and lose Travis in the process.
My heart is telling me to show Winthrop the finger. Yeah, that would definitely make me happier in the short term. But long term? How much time would pass before I started resenting Travis for giving up my career? How long could I stay happy in Emerald Creek doing precisely nothing?
The more I think about it, the more it seems I only have one option left.
By the time I get to the airport, my mind is set: I have to break up with Travis.