She expected Nora to respond with a bland “That’s great,” but to her surprise, Nora seemed genuinely interested.
“What’s the movie?”
“The Empty Chair. It’s—”
“P. L. Morrison,” Nora finished, her eyes lighting up. “I love that book. You said you have a script ready? What’s your friend’s name?”
“Kamilah Ross. She mostly does music videos right now, but we wrote an indie together that she directed a couple of years ago, kind of as a warm-up for this. She’s super talented.”
Nora sipped her coffee, but Grey could tell her mind was whirring.
“So you would play Vivian?”
“That’s the idea. And she would play Florence.”
“She acts, too?”
“Only in her own stuff, but she’s amazing. She’s never been interested in doing the whole audition thing, getting sent out for the same one-dimensional supporting characters over and over.”
“I don’t blame her. I had to fire my first agent because he only ever sent me out for roles that had ‘exotic’ in the breakdown.”
Grey winced. “Ugh. I’m so sorry.”
Nora tapped her fingers against the island and stared off into the distance for a moment, lost in thought. “You know, I’ve been working on getting my own production company off the ground for the past year or so. We’re still trying to nail down some of the money stuff, but this is exactly the kind of project we’re looking for. Maybe we can set up a meeting.”
Grey blinked a few times, stunned into silence. “Wow, Nora…I don’t know what to say. That would be…wow. Thank you,” she finally managed to say.
Nora grinned. “I mean, I’m not making any promises beyond a meeting. You two still have to bring your A-game. I’d be interested in seeing the other movie you made, too, if you can send it along beforehand.”
“Of course. Thank you. If there’s anything I can do for you…” Grey trailed off awkwardly, feeling unsure. What could she offer Nora that could compare with the monumental favor she was doing for her? But Nora put her empty coffee cup on the island and fixed her with another thoughtful stare.
“Has he said anything to you about theDirtbagsscreening?”
Grey frowned and shook her head.
“No, nothing. What is it?”
“They want to do a fifteenth-anniversary screening in a couple of months at Lincoln Center. It’s the movie where…” She trailed off.
“Yeah, I know. That’s…hmmm.” Grey leaned against the island, propping herself on her forearms. She’d seenDirtbagsa couple of times; she’d even written a paper on it in college. Of all the movies Ethan and Sam had made together, it was her favorite: visceral, thrilling, and kinetic.
“I’m not surprised he hasn’t said anything. He seemed against it when I brought it up. I bet he doesn’t even remember. But I think it would be good for him. It might help him remember thatpart of his life as more than just…regrets. Something to be buried.”
Grey nodded. “I can try to talk to him.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” Nora moved as if to get up from the stool. Something else occurred to Grey.
“Do you know anything about the last movie he was working on with Sam?Bitter Pill?”
Nora’s brow furrowed. “Sounds familiar. I don’t think they’d gotten very far on it, though. Why? Is he still trying to get it made?”
“I don’t know,” Grey replied truthfully. “He says that’s why”—she caught herself seconds before accidentally revealing the original nature of their relationship—“he’s been putting himself back out there. But he doesn’t really seem that interested in it.”
Nora looked at her sympathetically. “Has he talked about Sam much with you?”
Grey shook her head. “A little. I can tell it’s hard for him.”
Nora’s eyes went distant.
