“Will you?” Ralf snorted. “Because RJ bringing in a third party doesn’t screamfine, it screams desperation.” He glanced at me. “No offense.”
“None taken.” Although I had to take a little. But it was beyond clear these two hated each other and I had to wonder why. Ralf was a little oily, yes, but what had happened to drive both men to this level of antagonism?
“Melroy’s skittish, okay? Took a lot to bring them to the table. If they get a whiff of RJ’s anxiety, they’ll pull out of this and Kittredge will also be out,” Ralf went on.
“So make sure Melroy stays sweet,” Elliot shot back. “You know, cosy up to the money. Isn’t that what you do best?”
Ralf’s eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to retort, but his phone rang, twice, then stopped. “Whatever. I gotta deal with something.” His eyes met mine in a tight smile. “My offer of help stands.”
When he’d walked far enough away, I turned back to Elliot. “What was all that about?”
“Long story.” He let out a heavy sigh, before adding, “You can’t trust him.”
“We just met,” I said. “He’s been really helpful and friendly.”As opposed to you.I didn’t say the words out loud, but the way Elliot’s scowl deepened told me he’d heard them all the same.
He pursed his lips, then gestured towards a door at the far end of the office. “Let me show you where we’ll be working.”
I followed him to the room, whereupon he stepped to one side to let me enter first.
“Thanks.” I pushed at the door, only for it to scrape across the floor and stick.
“Just give it a kick,” he advised.
Although it felt like I was in the opening seconds of a prank video, I did as he asked and gave the door a couple of solid whacks, managing to wedge it open a little further, just enough for me to slide my body and my tote bag through, totally crushing my chest in the process.
“Is this your office?” I gazed around in dismay at a cramped, windowless room illuminated by a dusty bulb that was obnoxiously bright. A large table and chairs took up most of the floor space, while crammed at the other end of the room was a tired old sofa that looked like it had lost most of its stuffing.
“Used to be storage,” Elliot said. “I have a desk in the production hub, but RJ suggested we have a private room of our own, so we cleared this out. No distractions.”
“My basement office in London has more air.”
He stared at me balefully and I raised my hands. “I’ll make the best of it,” I assured him.
We took seats opposite each other and despite the naked resentment on his face, I felt a thrill of anticipation. Finally, it was happening; I was about to start what was sure to be the most meaningful work of my professional life. True, it was alongside one of the most objectionable men I’d ever encountered, but I wasn’t about to let that bring me down. I pulled out my new laptop, plus my notebook and several rollerball pens, and my dog-eared copy ofThe Hero’s Journey, still replete with the notes I’d made at university. Elliot watched me arrange my accessories with an expression of mild impatience. “You done?”
“What?” I reached into my bag again and his eyes bulged.
“It’s like I’m sharing an office with Mary fucking Poppins,” he said. “What else do you have in there that you could possibly need?”
I withdrew a small tub of Vaseline. “Lip balm.” The air was genuinely dry in here. I loaded my middle finger with the balm and smeared it over my lips, taking my time. It was a pathetically small act of rebellion, but his attitude was really bothering me. “So.” I smacked my lips. “How do you want to do this?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never had to write with a partner before.”
“Not even at NYU?”
“Not even at NYU.”
“Well, I have lots of ideas if you’d like to hear them?”
His gaze remained stony, so I guessed his unspoken answer was ano. Regardless, I took a deep breath and continued. “We could start by brainstorming, you know, throw random ideas out there, plus up.”
“Plus up?” he repeated, his lip curling.
“Yeah. They didn’t teach you the concept ofplussing upat NYU?” I took a small level of satisfaction at the bewilderment in his eyes.
“I’m guessing it’s the same asyes, and?” he said.
“Pretty much,” I said. “You just keep pushing and pushing an idea even to silly levels in the hope that—”
