It was always those simple questions that tripped him up. “It’s…tough.” Just talking to her unleashed something within him. “My boss hates me.”
“Oh, he does not.”
“Let’s see: He barely talks to me, unless it’s to ask me to do something. When he sees me reading scripts, he asks if he’s not keeping me busy enough.” But Arthur would never say any of this, Cameron knew. His passive-aggressiveness was on par with most sorority girls.
“Being an assistant is hard, but it will all be worth it,” his mom said.
“How?”
“You’re smart and you’ll rise at Mobius fast.”
That didn’t sound appetizing to Cameron. And when he thought about it, it never did.
“I don’t like going to work,” he said, like an addict admitting a relapse. “I lie in bed and try to psyche myself up.”
“You can tough it out, Cam. See, when you moved out there, you thought you were living your dream. But you’re not. Your dream is to be a development executive. Not an assistant. And that will take time. Years.” Years as Arthur’s assistant. Cameron’s stomach turned again. “You’re still in the process of reaching your dream. It’s all part of the plan.”
“That’s not my dream, Mom. I want to write!” It was like coming out all over again. Cameron rubbed at his headache. It was a perpetual throbbing, either from the stress or the drinking. “Your plans changed when you had me. Did you regret that?”
“I….no. I love you, Cameron. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“And yet I wasn’t part of the plan.”
She didn’t respond for a while.
“I miss him,” Cameron closed his eyes and pictured being in Walker’s arms, smelling his skin, feeling his warmth. He’d been doing that a bunch since their phone call. It was the only thing that could make his headache go away.
“You’ve just hit a rough patch. Things will improve.”
“I hope so.”
“Walker and Hobie are in the past where they belong,” his mom said. “Just focus on your future.”
Cameron hung up and got ready for another day of work.
Φ
At the office, Cameron waited for the coffee machine to be free. An assistant bounced in and picked up her full mug.
“Another day at the grind!” She said with a smile, like that was a good thing. Maybe it was for some people.
Cameron placed his mug under the machine and programmed in his coffee of choice. He turned around and Brad stood by the fridge.
“Hey, Cameron! Do you have a minute?” Brad asked, a serious tone coating his voice.
“Sure.” He looked back at his coffee but decided it could wait.
Cameron followed Brad into Arthur’s office. Arthur sat behind his desk glaring at Cameron. A blonde woman from human resources stood by the window.
“What’s going on?” Cameron asked.
Arthur pulled out Cameron’s legal pad. His screenplay scribblings blazed on the top page. Cameron gulped back anoh shitlump.
“Interior, Sunrise Pictures, day,” Arthur read from the page. “Arnold Grant, thirty, wildly cocky as he is wildly insecure, struts down the hall hoping that people think he is prom king. He is the epitome of trying too hard.”
Arthur chucked the pad onto his desk. Cameron shrunk like a pile of snow in the sun.
The HR woman stepped forward. “Cameron, when you accepted the job offer at Mobius Pictures, you agreed not to partake in any writing endeavors. We do this to avoid any potential copyright issues or conflict-of-interest.”
