“Oh, the one that won the festival?” I grimaced. “No, but its existence has quite literally been shoved down my throat.”
“Okay.” Michelle grinned wickedly. “Let me know when you do.”
“Why do you say it like that?”
“It’shot,” she replied.
“Hot? As in … ?” I felt oddly prudish.
“Not, like, porn or anything,” Michelle said quickly. “It’s so romantic is all, and the actors’ chemistry is like, off the charts. Sexy as fuck, and all from the mind of our own Elliot Fox.”
“Well.” My throat suddenly grew tight, strangling my words. I was somewhat familiar with associating the concept of sexy with Elliot, and I really had to stop doing that. “I had no idea.”
“More pizza?” Ralf materialized at my elbow with a box full of slices and I snaffled another piece, grateful to have something to distract me from the thought of Elliot and spicy movies.
“Do you plan to see much of New York while you’re here?” Michelle asked.
“I’d like to,” I said. “If I get some free time.”
“Holler if you need a guide,” Ralf said, raising his hand.
“And me!” Riley chirped from over his shoulder. “Do you play baseball? There’s an awesome batting cage experience at the Piers.”
Ralf screwed up his face. “Riley, Lucie is from London, not Nowhere, Ohio. There are far better places she could go.”
“I’m from Miami, Snobby McSnoberson,” Riley retorted.
“I’d love to see some of the places real New Yorkers go,” I admitted.
“Oh, that’s cute,” Michelle said. “You think we go places besides work.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you,” I said to them.
“For what?” Riley asked.
“For being so welcoming,” I said. “Yesterday felt like … well—”
“Yesterday was yesterday,” Ralf interrupted kindly. “Now, tell us more about yourself.”
I ate so much pizza while chatting to the team I felt like I could explode, and by the time Elliot returned from the gym I was far from ready to sit in that box room and try to convince him I wasn’t some tasteless saboteur determined to ruin all his efforts.
In the room, Elliot opened his laptop, the movement sending a wave of citrussy shower gel scent through the air. He frowned at the screen then looked at me. “RJ is already asking for an update on our progress tomorrow. Wants a meeting. He’s suggesting 10 a.m.”
“What’s he expecting to see?” I said, panicking. “We’ve not even made it off the first page!”
“And whose fault is that?” Elliot said with a snort.
“Um, yours,” I told him. “Can we at leasttryto cut some of that dialogue in the first scene? You know, economize.”
“Ah yes, economizing, the true companion of art,” Elliot growled.
“Brief can be beautiful.” God, it was hard to refrain from yelling at him.
“What, cutting something off before it’s really begun?” he countered. “What’s beautiful about that?”
“It’s efficient!” I said, ready to explode. “We’re getting audiences to the point quicker, holding their interest, what’s wrong with that?”
“I can tell you a myriad of reasons why,” he said. “It’s a reductive question.”
