by J. J. Bella
I blushed in embarrassment. I'd gotten so used to my casual clothes that I forget about the idea of looking professional.
"You ready?" he asked, finishing off his coffee. "You can grab a bite on the way there."
I nodded, eager to start the day ahead.
One car ride and one bodega bagel and egg sandwich later, we arrived at the offices for Thorne Pictures. There was only a handful of staff around since it was Saturday, and Liam and I made our way to his office.
"The McDonnells are in there," said one of the many stylish hipster-types that worked there, gesturing to the office with a worried look on his face.
"You're not telling me something," said Liam.
"Um, well," said the employee.
"Go on," said Liam, not wanting to waste any time.
"They met with Jace last night for drinks….I don't think it went too well."
"God damn it," said Liam.
He turned to me.
"We might be in damage control mode," he said, dismissing the employee. "Leave everything to me for the time being."
As we approached the office door I could hear the quick murmuring of heated conversation. Liam opened the door, and we saw that the McDonnnels were engaged in animated talk, their hands gesticulating wildly as they spoke to one another next to each other on Liam's couch.
"I can't believe you did that," said one of them, the one with the hat, Clive, I think. "What the hell was going through your mind? I swear, sometimes I can't believe that we're actually related."
"I was feeling a vibe, you know?" said the other, Adam, "he seemed like he was down."
I gulped, having a guess of exactly what they were talking about.
"I'm going to hope that you're not saying what I think you're saying," said Liam, striding into the office and taking a seat across from the brothers.
"That depends," said Adam. "What do you think we're saying?"
Liam crossed his legs and glowered at the pair. I stood by the door, not sure of what to do with myself. Seeing this, Liam flicked his eyes at me and pointed to the chair at his side.
Sighing, Liam spoke. "I'm going to guess one of you two made a pass at our potential leading man."
"Maybe…" said Adam, looking around coyly, reminding me a little kid getting forced to fess up to eating ice cream before dinner.
"And how'd he take it?" asked Liam, seemingly trying to assess the situation.
"Not well," said Clive, his hands folded over his knee.
"More specific than that," asked Liam.
I could tell his patience was wearing thin. Liam was trying to get right the point, and these two were doing everything they could to be as evasive as possible. I could see now that managing personalities was probably one of the more difficult and taxing parts of this job. But Liam seemed to know what he was doing. He was calm, yet stern.
"He pretended to take a phone call and left running out of there like he was about to pee his pants," said Clive, turning a withering gaze to Adam.
Liam sighed again. "So, he didn't freak out or anything, is what you're saying."
"No," said Adam. "He seemed more surprised than anything."
"Good," said Liam, relaxing a bit. "I'll have to give him a call after this and do damage control. And you two need to be a little more discrete about who you lay game on. Meaning, none of the stars, for God's sake. At least until they've signed the contract."
"Don't blame me," said Clive. "I behaved myself."
"Oh, quit being such a goody-goody- you would've been all over him if he were just some rando."
"But he wasn't some rando- that's the whole point. I swear, can't you just keep it in your damn pants for one night? This is why you got the freaking clap again."
Adam's brown eyes went wide.
"How dare you!"
A pleased smirk crossed Clive's face, as if he'd delivered just the blow he wanted.
"Enough," said Liam, holding up his hand.
Watching the whole thing unfold, I couldn't help but crack a smile. I was imagining one of these scrawny boys putting his hand on Jace Landau's knee, a look of horror crossing his face as he stammered to get out of there.
"This is a very delicate phase of the production," said Liam. "We're still getting everything finalized so that we can just get the thing off the ground. I'm happy to be working with you both, but please, exercise a little more professionalism in the future."
It was so impressive. I couldn't imagine just how annoyed Liam must've been at this. But if he was, he sure didn't show it. Unlike the McDonnells, Liam was the picture of professionalism; he knew just how to act to get these two to calm down and listen. I felt like I needed to pinch myself to make sure that this was the same man who had trouble getting out of bed earlier than noon.
"Fine," said Adam, now totally cowed.
"You don't have to worry about a thing from me; I'm a very good boy," he said, that same pleased smile on Clive's face.
"Great," said Liam. "Can we get on with business?"
The brothers both nodded and Liam told them about the meeting with Emmanuelle Jerrod. The McDonnell brothers were both more than pleased to hear that they'd be spending some time with open of the most fashionable actresses in the game.
"You really think we can get her?" asked Clive, speaking in hushed, almost reverent tones.
"I think so," said Liam. "She's done back-to-back tent poles; I would imagine she's looking for a part that's a little more low-key, more offbeat."
The brothers looked at each other wide, eager eyes. I half expected them to start tittering like excited little boys.
"Well," said Liam, "I think it's about time we got going."
With that, we headed out of the office to the car that awaited us out front. A quick ride later and we were in front of a stately three-story walkup of gray stone. I gasped as I looked over the façade, paying special attention to the ornamentations on the façade and the lovely mansard roofs. In this location here in the village, I could only image what a building like this would cost.
The driver let us out and soon we were in the massive entry hall of the home, our footsteps echoing on the floor and sounding throughout the vast, open space.
"Emmanuelle?" called out Liam, his voice carrying down the long entry hall.
"Yes, darling" asked Emmanuelle from some other room.
We followed the voice, and sure enough, in a large, sunlit space was none other than Emmanuelle Jerrod. Wearing a light, cream-colored robe, her fire-red hair draped on her cream-white shoulders, she was painting on a large canvas, the picture of some sort of still life that I couldn't make out. This time I did my best to not show on my face just how star struck I was.
Emmanuelle regarded us with a blasé expression, rising from her seat and coming over the greet us. She was stunningly beautiful, and I couldn't help but wonder if women like her were the sorts of women who Liam had been going through over the last few years.
Wait a minute, I thought, catching myself, why do I care about the women that Liam had been seeing?
Before I could thoroughly consider the implications of this, Liam and the McDonnells set to talking, going over the film and the part that they imagined her in. During the conversation, I couldn't help but notice the sort of body language Emmanuelle had with Liam. It was…familiar, even flirty. Soon, they were trading in-jokes and making references to events that they'd gone to together.
Had they…?
I found myself watching them carefully, analyzing their interaction for any sign that might've suggested that they'd had a romantic history. I caught myself doing it, but I didn't care how ridiculous I was being; I had to know.
"Mia?" asked Liam, his voice sounding like something calling me out of a dream.
"Mia?" he repeated.
"Um, yeah?" I said, snapping myself back to reality and seeing the faces of Liam, Emmanuelle, and the Mc Donnell brothers all looking at me expectantly.
"Did you get that last bit?"
; "Um, sorry," I said. "I got distracted for a second."
Liam repeated some piece of information about casting, and this time I jotted it down carefully. Soon, the little get-together was over and we were back in the car. My face was still flushed with embarrassment from letting myself get so distracted, and I could tell by Liam's expression when he had to put me back on task that he wasn't terribly impressed, either. We dropped the brothers off at their place in Green Point, and soon we were back on our way to Liam's place.
"Plans for this evening?" he asked as we drove through Times Square, the garish, animated advertisements dancing behind Liam through the window.
"Not really," I said. "Probably just making sure I'm ready for the week ahead. Looks like we're going to be busy with getting casting sorted out."
"You're right about that," he said.
But then his eyes drifted down to my outfit.
"I have a proposal for you," he said.
I raised my eyes from my laptop and looked at Liam skeptically.
"Oh?" I asked.
"Yes. I have a meeting tonight," he said. "Something boring, just drinks with a couple of investors; nothing you need to be there for."
"OK…" I said, wondering where he was going with this.
"Your…clothes," he said, looking down again. "I'm not sure how delicately I can put this, but I'm going to need you to step your game up a bit if you're going to be at my side for the next few months."
My red went hot and red.
"I know clothes haven't really been in the budget for you, so here's what I'm suggesting. I need someone to watch Olivia tonight. Why don't the two of you head down to Fifth Avenue and do some clothes shopping? My treat. You watch her tonight, and any other night I need it, and I'll take care of your wardrobe while you're working with me. Deal?"
It was quite the offer. Visions of clothes danced in my head, replacing the embarrassment that I felt. I was a little nervous about watching Olivia; I didn't really think of myself as the "kid" type. But it sounded pretty reasonable. Not to mention that I didn't really like the idea of rubbing elbows with the elite of the entertainment industry while dressed in H&M jeans and Uniqlo shirts.
"Deal," I said.
"Glad to hear it."
We got back to the apartment and had lunch, Olivia returning from her friend's in time to eat. Liam informed her of the plans for this evening, and she didn't seem too pleased.
"I don't want to go out," she said, stomping her little foot. "I want to stay in with you."
Liam responded by scooping her up and placing her on his lap.
"You know Daddy has to work, Minnie," he said.
"You always have to work," she said, sulking.
I started to feel a little uncomfortable; she was acting like being with me was some kind of punishment.
"Maybe if you're good Mia will take you out for ice cream after dinner. How about that?"
Olivia's disposition softened, and she clearly was intrigued by this, though having a hard time letting go of her crankiness.
"Fine," she said. "But only if we can go to Morgenstern's."
"Don't say it," said Liam, "ask Miss Mia nicely, and maybe she'll take you."
Olivia turned to me, looking up at me with her big blue eyes.
"Can we get ice cream after dinner?" she asked.
"I think we might be able to work something out," I said with a wink.
A big smile appeared on Olivia's face, and she sprang from Liam's lap and ran off to do one thing or another.
"Ice cream is the ultimate ace-in-the-hole," said Liam. "You just suggest it and they forget that they were even mad to begin with."
"Very impressive," I said. "I wish I had that knack for kids."
Liam's eyebrows raised. "What, you think I was a natural at this? Trust me, once you have one you learn pretty quickly. It's tough, but it's less difficult than it looks."
I took his words to heart as I thought about the evening ahead.
The day went by, and soon evening arrived. Liam left his black card on the kitchen table, telling me before he left that money wasn't an option.
A sweeter sentence I couldn't imagine. I did all I could to hide the big smile on my face when he set the metal card down on the table with a metal clunk.
But as soon as he left, I chided myself for being so materialistic. I'd always scoffed at the rich Manhattan wives who spent their days shopping and going to Pilates while their husbands worked and their kids were at day care, and here I was chomping at the bit at the slightest hint of that lifestyle. I told myself that I'd be modest with my choices and not ring up too much of a tab. After all, Liam was my boss doing me a favor, not…anything else.
"You ready, kiddo?" I asked to Olivia, who was busy playing some cat-related match-three game on her iPad.
"Yep!" she said, clicking off the game and getting up, ready to go.
The next few hours were a wild blur. We headed to Fifth Avenue, taking the train. Walking down the wide sidewalks of the street, we ducked into store after store, trying on all sorts of clothes, some fashionable, some silly, some way too fancy- I had to use all my negotiation skills to talk Olivia out of a child-size ball gown that cost more than I was hoping to make in the next few months.
"It's so pretty!" she said, on the verge of a stomping fit.
"Um, it is, but when are you actually going to wear it. Think about it."
"Ummm…to ice cream!"
I couldn't help but smile at this.
"I think you might be a little overdressed for ice cream in that."
Seemingly out of nowhere, bag after bag appeared in my hands. I know that I told myself I'd keep things in check, but there were so many things that just seemed to be jumping off the racks at me. And I wasn't just shopping for me, I told myself, I was representing Liam.
Hours later, Olivia and I were shopped out. My arms were weighed down with bags, and I was starving. The two of us stopped into a little bistro to grab some dinner. As we ate, the sun set behind the buildings of Midtown and the city came to life, the evening lights turning on gradually through the windows around us. A quick Uber stop at the apartment to drop off our clothes later, and we were at Morgenstern's, the ice cream place that Olivia been looking forward to since lunch.
Olivia went for a big sundae with rocky road ice cream and topped with chocolate sauce and whipped cream. I told myself I'd be good and stick with a scoop of sherbet, but when I stood at the counter, the array of colorful flavors laid out before me, I decided to continue with the day's theme of over-consumption. My banana split in hand, I sat down with Olivia at a small table near the windows. The city bustling outside, we happily ate our ice cream, Olivia going on about school and friends all the while. I was happy that she was over her apprehensions towards me. Liam seemed to be right- just relax and it'll come naturally.
Soon, we were back home. The evening was growing late, and Liam still wasn't back. Olivia and I threw on a movie and got comfy on the couch. Soon, she was asleep, her head resting on my shoulder. And before I knew it, I felt my eyelids growing heavy. It'd been a long day that was now catching up with me, and soon I felt myself drift off into a pleasant sleep.
10
The next two weeks passed in a whirlwind of negotiations and contract-signing. Through some wrangling, I was able to get both Jace Landau and Emmanuelle Jerrod signed. Not only that, but funding for the project was secured. All we needed to do was get the shooting schedule sorted out and we could begin. Luckily, this wasn’t some big-budget CGI extravaganza, so post wasn’t likely to take too long. If everything was looking to unfold the way it should it wasn’t unreasonable to have this picture out in six months.
And throughout the last couple of weeks Mia had been exactly the assistant that I needed. She was always by my side and taking careful notes, relieving me of the burden of having to keep all the details about what meetings and with whom straight in my mind. We’d only been working together for a short time and I was already starting t
o wonder how I’d ever gotten by without her. On top of everything, she’d been really hitting it off with Olivia. After their night out on the town the two girls became fast friends, and when Olivia’s week at my pace ended I couldn’t tell who she was more upset to have to leave.
The director that we’d picked, Michael Kennings, was another issue altogether. I’d picked him after going over the short films he’d put on YouTube. They were simple little vignettes of life in the city, and I appreciated his crisp, clear style and attention to detail. It was exactly the sort of look that I’d had in mind for a dialogue-driven piece like The British Job. Our interview went well, also. He was professional and had a great track record of turning in his work on time and under budget for the commercial agencies where he’d been employed. Sure, at twenty-five he was little young, but I figured he’d learn on the job.
However, this was his first big-screen production, and though working with first-timers was part and parcel of my niche, his greenness showed. The first issues happened when he met the talent. Michael was an earnest, sensitive type, and clearly wasn’t used to working with big-name and big-ego stars. My first alarm bells sounded when he met with the McDonnells and could barely get in a word edge-wise as they went on and on about their vision for the picture. He seemed too eager to please, and had a hard time imposing what he wanted on them.
If this is how he handles a couple of screenwriters from the Midwest, I remember thinking, then that doesn’t bode well for wrangling the talent.
Sure enough, at the first meeting with Emmanuelle and Jace, he was completely in over his head. The two stars took up all the space, and Michael couldn’t manage anything more than holding up a finger and hoping they gave him room to talk, which they didn’t.
“Listen,” I told him after the meeting, “you’re going to need to develop a little more of a backbone with these types.”
Michael nodded, his slight shoulders slumped forward.
“I know, I know,” he said. “I’m just used to working with commercial actors, and they’re nothing but professionals.”