“Hey, kid.” Sadie jerked her head. “Out.”
“Sorry, yeah.” I rose slowly, still reeling.
“You’re not going to cry on me, are you?” she asked with a savage grin.
“Of course not.” I felt disappointed, sure – exhausted, even – but crying?
“Because that would make you a true New Yorker.” She barked a laugh.
“And here I thought New Yorkers were tough,” I shot back as I moved towards the door.
“Tough, sure,” she said. “But we have soft, gooey centers. You just have to know how to find them.”
I left her to make the phone call, considering heading out to the Greek deli down the street for lunch but the heavy gray clouds put me off. After making a sandwich with scraps of ham I found in the fridge, I tried to call Elliot. Yet again, it rang out to answerphone. It must truly be mayhem over there.
I trudged into the depressingly quiet writers’ room, where I checked my personal email. I saw Vivian had sent my flight confirmation already, so I entered my passport information, then opened some emails Bex had sent. One was a ‘save the date’ for the wedding, along with a list of things she needed my help with, such as catering budget and planning a combined hen do/baby shower. I shuddered. It was a good job I loved her as much as I did. I then noted with a sinking heart she’d forwarded some information about a new block of flats being built just down the road from our current flat that would be available for around the time I needed to move. The rent for a studio flat was almost three quarters of my current monthly salary.
I leaned back in my chair and let out a long, tired exhale. I’d left London blazing with hope, praying that this RJF job would lead to new and exciting prospects, at the very least a film credit. But I was now staring down the fact that I was not only leaving New York having no further opportunities at RJF, but also with the very real possibility the project I’d been sent here to work on would be killed. And then there was the whole Elliot situation. The thought of leaving here without making itright with him crushed me, that he’d be here living his life as if I’d been a momentary blip, an error he could just breeze past and forget. Returning to the daily grind of Temper Media, eking out a living on the pennies Lin threw my way, and using casual hookups to break the monotony of my life … no more. I couldn’t do it. Not after everything I’d experienced here. I was capable of so much more, and Ideservedmore. I was going to rot if I stayed at Temper; I had to believe there was something better, even if I had to temp at Dan’s insurance company to keep money flowing in while I worked stuff out.
Galvanized, I started drafting a resignation email to send to Lin. But as I began typing, my finger slipped, and the file directory opened. It was open to ‘personal files’, where I kept all things related toTwin Roses. I was about to click away when I saw the ‘date modified’ metadata had logged the last time my pitch deck had been opened as 2 a.m. When I was asleep. How was that possible?
Sadie’s head poked round the door. “Fancy a trip to Silvercup?”
“N-now?” I reeled. “You and me?”
“You and me,” she confirmed. “RJ wants a meeting, and he can’t step away fromWoodstockright now to come back here.”
“Sure.” The famous Silvercup Studios! Computer woes forgotten, I closed my laptop down and hurried out of the office after her. “Ralf joining us?”
Sadie gave me a funny look as she pushed the lift button. “Ralf quit last week.”
“Wait, what?”
“Really?” Sadie grimaced as the lift doors opened. “Hadn’t you noticed he’s not been in the office?”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “But he was here last night.” I shuddered at the memory. To be fair, I’d been pretty preoccupiedwith my misery to even think about Ralf, let alone notice his movements. But Sadie was right, I hadn’t seen him all week until last night.
“Perhaps he came to pick up his stuff,” Sadie mused. “But, yeah, he quit with immediate effect. Something about an urgent opportunity he had to take advantage of.” The lift doors closed, and we descended.
My mind raced; he and Vivian had alluded to some kind of scheme last night, something that was already in motion. But what could it be?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I’d been on a few sets in my time, and so when I learned we would be visiting the set of RJ’s new show, I’d thought I knew what to expect. But the set ofWoodstockat the famous Silvercup Studios was like none I’d worked on before. For a start, it wasvast, occupying a huge hangar along with an enormous crew. I’d arrived during some kind of lull – no cast were on set and a group of people were congregated around the tea point, talking quietly. Video village – the huddle of monitors used to view and playback footage – was manned by one bored-looking runner, swigging coffee and fiddling with his phone.
“Help you?” asked a woman in studio blacks holding an iPad and with a radio strapped to her belt.
“Yeah, looking for RJ and Elliot?” Sadie barely looked up from her phone. “We have a meeting.”
“Oh yeah, they’re in conference suite A,” the crew member said. She pointed to the floor. “Follow the pink line of tape to the double doors at the end, walk through and it’s down the hall on the right.”
“Of course, thanks.” Sadie glanced back at me. “Come along.”
I shouldered my bag and fell into step beside her, wishing I’d taken the time to check my hair and make-up before leaving the office. It had occurred to me only in the Uber when we were halfway here that I would be encountering Elliot, due to my extreme surprise at Ralf’s exit from RJF.
Sadie and I left the set and entered a long hallway flanked by multiple doors, eventually coming across a set of large double doors marked ‘A.’ I wanted to stop, take a breath and mentally prepare myself for seeing Elliot, but Sadie charged through without missing a beat. I followed meekly, head down.
The room was surprisingly modest for a world-famous studio like Silvercup. A simple boardroom table and chairs took over the bulk of the room, while an ancient-looking cabinet groaned under the weight of coffee and tea-making stuff. RJ and Elliot were by the window overlooking the parking lot deep in conversation with what looked like a couple of network suits. Even from the other side of the room I could tell Elliot had the executives under complete control. He was calm and smiling, with the execs gazing up at him starry eyed – a real contrast to the slumped and frowning RJ, who looked for all the world like a spoiled child.
