“Yeah yeah yeah, blue-sky thinking,” he said, pulling a face. “It’s nothing new.”
“Okay.” I pushed down my frustration at his disagreeable manner. “Or, I know, I have a checklist of items I thought needed to be addressed and maybe we go through, one by one, work out how to tackle them?”
“A checklist?” He regarded me with naked derision. “What could be sexier?”
“I’m not trying to be sexy,” I shot back, feeling my face heat when he smirked. “Okay, fine, what do you suggest?”
“I’m a creative,” he said. “Let me create.”
“That’s kind of vague when we have a deadline, don’t you think?”
“Vague?” he repeated. “Look, the best scripts don’t come from some kinda sausage factory, all right? You got your amygdala firing, the dopamine flowing … it all takes time.”
“Yeah, which you don’t have much of anymore,” I pointed out. “And I’m not trying to stop the dopamine or whatever, I just want to help.”
“With checklists.”
“Withefficiency.”
He shook his head. “I’m efficient enough. I got us this far, didn’t I?”
I gritted my teeth. “RJ clearly feels there are some tweaks to be made.”
“Then he should have trusted me to deliver them,” he snapped.
That had me stumped. If there was something in RJ and Elliot’s relationship that had led to this point, then what on earth was I going to do? I took a deep breath. I had no choice but to make it work. Even if it meant swallowing every insult that Elliot lobbed my way. “Why don’t you tell me about your and RJ’s work process?” I suggested.
Elliot glared at me. “What’s the point?”
My whole, entire future?“An Oscar, apparently.”
My quip didn’t make him smile even a little bit. “Come on, man, I’m here to help. Use me!”
Elliot arched an eyebrow. “Use you?”
Shit.That hadn’t sounded right.
“I mean—”
There was a knock at the door and Juno poked her head in. “Lucie, I have the whiteboard you requested?”
“Ah yes.” Relieved at the distraction, I beckoned her in. I’d forgotten I’d emailed ahead and asked for one. “Just over there please.”
Juno wedged herself through the narrow opening, dragging a whiteboard easel behind her. Elliot jumped up to help her in. He set the easel down then watched Juno setting it up as if she were dumping a bag of soiled tissues on the floor.
“I thought this would be useful,” I said, “for the blue-sky thinking.”
Elliot gawped at me like I was crazy, not even blinking as Juno timidly placed a selection of markers in front of him.
“Thanks, Juno,” I said as she darted out of the room.
Elliot snapped out of his daze. “How is that going to help?”
“We could list the points we want to address,” I said. “Keep them up there as reminders.”
“I don’t need reminders,” he uttered. “You know what this script needs? It needs RJ to stop stressing about making it Oscar-worthy AND a blockbuster AND two fingers to Rian Johnson.”
“I agree, and I want to help,” I said. A defeated-looking Elliot waved his hand in atake your best shotgesture and I took that as a small sign of encouragement. I hopped up and went over to the whiteboard. “What my clumsy email gaffe failed to communicate was just how much I believe in this script. It’s so full of heart.” Elliot stared at me guardedly but didn’t speak, so I forged on. “Like that bit when Finn grabs Marla and says, ‘I’m fighting because I want an ordinary life. I want mundane days where all I do is stuff like make you breakfast and argue about our kids’ homework. I want to make that life with you so badly I’m willing to die for it’ and then she says—”
