“Exactly!” Jennifer’s face gleamed with evil joy. “It is only by first destroying their faith in love that we can elicit a physical response in them when the happily ever after arrives. We need to be… more than what we are now. And I intend to start us on this fresh path in the new year.”
“What’s wrong with reinforcing the faith they already have?” Nat held her breath. Her books and scripts did not play with people’s emotions like that. If Forever Love changed their formula, she might never get them off the computer and on screen.
Jennifer tipped her head back, and laughter pealed through the air. “What’s wrong with….” She held her side as she continued to cackle.
Nat’s cheeks burned.
“Let me guess,” Jennifer swiped under her eyes as if she’d cried, “you’re from a small town. Probably under a hundred kids in your graduating class? A place called… Green Valley or Long Winters.”
Nat jerked up in her seat, sitting taller. “Harvest Ranch, Virginia. And there were 104 kids in my graduating class.” She was fiercely proud of her hometown and would not sit here and let someone who had never walked through the fields of lavender or lifted a bale of hay mock it.
Jennifer’s laughter cut off sharply, and she returned to that hard-nosed producer persona as easily as slipping on her Louboutin heels. “Same difference. Same result.” She flicked her hand at Nat as if the result was a bug she didn’t want near her. “What you fail to understand is that we’re here to give our viewers the reality we want them to have, which may include the idea that there’s no such thing as true love. Because it’s only when they accept the reality that true love may not be real that they can truly feel the triumph of having found it–on screen, of course. True love is a fairy tale.” She bolted off the edge of her desk and walked around to the other side.
Natasha disagreed wholeheartedly but realized there was no sense in trying to convince Jennifer otherwise. She’d made up her mind. Or perhaps she’d made up her heart. On her third divorce, rumor had it she’d reserved a hotel room in Singapore for the holidays.
The crazy thing was that Nat believed that Jennifer still had hope. Still, a chance that the one person who would complete her soul was out there… waiting… hoping… pining for her. He was probably in his early 50s with distinguished graying at the temples and handsome laugh lines. He wore suits most days and polo shirts on the weekends. Still fit because he was classy like that, and he enjoyed travel and historical fiction. His hobbies included golf–.
“Ralph quit,” Jennifer said, bringing Nat out of the character development session.
She blinked quickly, adjusting to the change in direction.
Ralph was the official on-site liaison. He was the go-to for anyone not in the movie or part of the production house. If a city official was concerned about traffic flow, they called Ralph. If they were shooting on location, the property owners knew Ralph. Ralph was the man. He had access to Jennifer, the directors, and pretty much everyone at the top. They loved him because he ran interference with the public so they could do their jobs.
Nat only knew who he was because she’d found the location for their Christmas movie and had to give him the contact info. He’d picked up where her search left off, and she was back to making coffee and lunch reservations while he sent out contracts and negotiated payments.
“I want you to replace him.”
“M-m-me?” Natasha pointed to her chest before she realized that she probably looked like a thirteen-year-old asked to dance by the hot football player. Never happened in real life. Although, in her imaginary world, he’d begged her to go to prom. Ah, the blessing of a good imagination.
“We leave in one week.”
“One week?” She glanced down at her red toenail, peeking out at her too-expensive shoes. “I don’t have the wardrobe to film in North Dakota.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Overnight shipping? Ever heard of it?”
Nat grimaced as the sound of her bank account emptying rattled like a single penny in a piggy bank. She could already smell the Ramen she’d be eating for the next three months.
Jennifer moved on. Things like budgets and bank accounts only mattered in filming. “To say that these people are less than thrilled with the idea of us coming is an understatement. Ralph’s wheeling and dealing personality was part of why they were hesitant to let us film there. I’m hoping that your small-town naivety will meld with them better.”
First, Jennifer wanted to mock her provincial start in life, and now she wanted to use it for her own gain. Typical Hollywood. It didn’t matter, though, because this was the break Nat had been waiting for, working for, and praying for.
“I’ll take it.”
Jennifer drummed her perfectly manicured fingernails on the desk. “This isn’t a job offer. You don’t have the experience to step into his shoes. However, we’re in a bind, with it being so close to the holidays. Consider it an internship. You can apply for the job after the New Year if you do well.”
In other words:I don’t want to pay you Ralph’s salary until I absolutely have to, andwe’re not sure we want to commit to you in this position because somebody better might come along.
Even knowing all of that, Natasha was encouraged. This was the break she’d been waiting for, and she would not let her pride stand in the way. She was raised with a strong work ethic and would easily show Jennifer that she could take over Ralph’s position–do it better than he did.
“I’m in.”
Jennifer’s face spread like the Grinch who had a wonderful, awful idea. Nat shuddered.
“Here is the name and number of the contact.” She held out a Post-it note, flapping it around in her impatience. Nat snatched it from her. “You’ll have to call and tell him you’re replacing Ralph.”
That would be a fun conversation. She glanced down at the name: Abner and Anna Nicholas. She remembered the webpage for their ranch easily enough. Abner was an older man with a Santa beard and a Christmas twinkle in his eye.
“Feel free to make up something about him feeling terrible about not being able to work with these guys.” Jennifer smirked.
