It rarely happens like that. Questions are asked, objections raised, further work requested, all of which is part of the process. Yet there have been extreme but by no means unheard of cases when someone has put a spanner in the works when it’s literallydaysfrom the start of production. It’s a risk with every project. But if Rose were still here,Our Girl in Milanwould be getting the green light next week, so the last thing I want is her stand-in getting any ideas.
‘As you read in my email, the concept will follow a young British model all the way from her discovery as an unknown teenager – where viewers will see her plucked from obscurity on the street – to her first runway show in Italy.’
‘Hmm. I read that.’
‘We’re billing it as perfect for fans ofEmily in Parisand—’
‘That was dramedy.’
‘Exactly the point,’ I say. ‘There’s a gap in Factual Entertainment. The tone will be fun and colourful. It is a great financial proposition and has excellent long-term prospects. We’re the perfect home for it.Everyonethinks so. Two other streaming services were chomping at the bit for this.’
‘Huh,’ he says, ponderously. Then he puts his elbows on the desk and presses his forefingers together, drawing attention to his muscular forearms, which flex when he releases them, and sits back in his chair.
‘Let me rewind just a moment,’ he says. ‘Is the purpose of this meeting for you to illicit some kind ofguaranteethat I’ll nod this through next week, no questions asked?’
Frankly, that would be ideal. Not that I can say it out loud.
‘I wouldn’t expect you to do that, obviously,’ I laugh lightly, as warmth spreads to the tips of my ears.
‘Okay, good,’ he says, nodding. ‘Because if I do have concerns, I obviously need to voice them.’
I feel my spine tighten. ‘Well,obviously. I was simply asking you to bear in mind that this particular project is . . . well, it’s really far along,’ I say, hoping to emphasise what a massive pain in the arse, not to mention waste of money and time, we’d face in the event of major problems now. ‘It would make life very difficult for all concerned at this stage if—’
‘But it hasn’t yet been green-lit?’
‘Well, no.’
‘Then it’s still all to play for. And I might as well tell you: I do have concerns.’
My expression darkens. I strongly suspect his only genuine ‘concern’ is that I’ve had the audacity to approach him privately about this. But what was I supposed to do? Allow him to sweep in at the last minute and smash up my sandcastle?
‘I see,’ I say, gritting my teeth. ‘Well, I hope you realise, I was not suggesting anything other than . . . pragmatism.’
‘Right,’ he drawls, but it’s not the kind of ‘right’ that suggests he’s buying this. ‘I can understand why you wouldn’t want any nasty surprises at the content planning meeting. Equally, I’m not pushing this through just because it’d be inconvenient for you. Assuming that’s what you’re asking me to do?’
Heat blooms on my chest. Fucking perimenopause.
‘I don’t believe I said that,’ I say, coolly. At some point, we seem to have become engaged in a staring contest, one I’m determined to win. ‘I simply wanted to give you the opportunity to see what I’m working on – the projects Rose was involved in – so that you have a chance to . . . take it all in before we’re in front of a wider audience.’
He looks me directly in the eye, apparently equally determined. ‘Consider it taken in.’
‘Look. Mr Russo—’
‘My name’s Zach,’ he says. ‘I think we can use first names if we’re going to be working together, don’t you? Unless you’d preferMsDarling?’
‘Lisa’s fine,’ I say with a wave of dread. Do Ireallyhave to work with this guy? Even for six months? I don’t like him.At all.I want Rose back.
He crosses his arms and looks down at his phone again as I register how he smells. The aftershave isn’t overpowering. In fact, I don’t even know if it is aftershave. I can’t put my finger on any of the top notes beyond saying that it’s masculine and soft all at once. I look away briefly and when I glance back, he’s standing up and putting his jacket on.
‘I gotta cut this short, I’m afraid,’ he says. This isn’t just short, this is ridiculous.
‘But I haven’t told you about—’
‘I know. I apologise. I did read your email . . . with interest,’ he says, heading towards the door. As he’s about to leave, he turns around. ‘I’m sorry if you were hoping for a yes man, Lisa. But I’m not one of them.’
‘Clearly not,’ I reply, with a saccharine smile, deciding I’ll move my drink-free night to tomorrow instead.
Chapter 5
