“We can still fix this,” I said, pen poised on the blank page in my notebook. “We’re going to.”
Odetta Olson rolled her eyes at me before turning her attention to Carmen.
But I wasn’t so easily discouraged.
“We know for a fact that some of the rumors aren’t true,” I continued.
“Oh, we know that?” Odetta said, mimicking me. Then, to Carmen, “Isn’t it cute how she knows how to fix all of my problems?”
Carmen silently ordered me to shut up with her gaze of steel.
We’d been huddled in Odetta’s suite for the last hour, discussing strategies for stopping the bad press coming down on the movie like a freaking monsoon. I didn’t care what either of them said. I wanted to believe that I could still fixeverything, including my own life.
“Some of these stories don’t even make any sense. If we released a statement…” I said now. I wasn’t sure exactly where I was going with this and decided to switch tactics. “IfIdon’t buy these stories, then other people don’t either. Like the one about Odetta cutting some of the scenes with pretty young actors out of spite? At least one of them confirmed—”
Odetta exhaled loudly. “You’re sweet,” she said, like a verbal punch in the face.
Even Carmen seemed taken aback by the cutting tone, the condescension etched across Odetta’s face.
“It’s not just about us,” Carmen said. “The rumors are out of fucking control. In all my years of coming to Cannes, I’ve never seen this level of absolute garbage. I can’t believe I’m being so polite.”
I, of course, was the whole reason for the sudden spike in gossip. Since that first time mining all the assistants for stories in the hotel lobby, I hadn’t stopped. Icouldn’tstop. I suddenly had the power to invent the truth; it was intoxicating. And it worked. The rumors about Odetta Olson stopped for a minute. It didn’t last long, but it wassomething. If I could tell her how that had happened then, really, she would thank me. For now, I could think of one way she could repay the favor.
“Something’s in the air for sure,” I said, a little out of breath. “Did you hear about the writer who stole someone else’s screenplay and is passing it off as his own? Apparently everyone in Cannes is reading it right now. So crazy.” I addressed Odetta more specifically now. “Did anyone send it to you?”
She stared at me.
“They can’t do that, right?” I continued. “What wouldyoudo if that happened to you?”
Odetta turned to Carmen.
“Make her go away!” she yelled.
I expected Carmen to crack a joke, to lighten up the mood. Or better yet, to defend me maybe. To do anything other than what she actually did.
“Do you understand what we’re dealing with? We’re hearing that the grand jury is wondering if they could takeDon’t Be Sad!out of the competition so the festival doesn’t get mixed up in all this horrible press,” Carmen barked.
“That’s just another rumor!” I said. “They won’t really do that.”
Odetta snarled. “And you know that how, Sweetie?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking down at my feet. “I’m just asking for your advice, as a veteran in this industry who knows…everything.”
I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.
“I don’t need another clueless twenty-something to dance on my grave,” Odetta said.
“I would never do that!” I said, genuinely offended. “I was just hoping you would—”
“Get her out of here,” Odetta said to Carmen, each syllable like a dagger. “Now!”
She was pointing at the door, fury seeping out of her every pore.
Carmen barely glanced at me. “What are you doing, Marnie? Just leave, okay? Go away.”
Carmen had never talked to me like that. She could be brutal, but she was never cruel.
I stayed put for another few seconds before I understood that they both meant it. They wanted me gone. I clutched my notebook to my chest and retrieved my bag before heading to the door.
