Just then my phone chirruped, and I pulled it out of my pocket, desperate to wrangle my way out of this conversation before I said something truly embarrassing. It was a message from Ralf.
You got this! Let’s do drinks again sometime.
I looked up and saw Elliot had moved back to his side of the table. “Are we okay?”
“Yep.” He tapped at his laptop, not meeting my eye. “Figure we should just get working on RJ’s latest notes.”
Feeling as if I’d done something wrong, I leaned forward in my seat and began to work.
An hour later and the atmosphere in the writers’ room was little better. So it was something of a relief when Michelle burst in, desperately pleading for our help.
“Elliot, I need you!” she screeched. “My director phoned in sick.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“For theAll Kinds of Killingjunket,” she said. “Sol’s contract stipulates a director has to oversee the filming of all her interviews and the director I hired has gone home with gastric flu!”
“No.” Elliot shook his head briskly. “Nope. Not me.”
“Puhhllllease!” She grabbed his arm and tugged. “I’m desperate.”
Elliot fixed her with a sharp glance. A smile quirked the corner of his mouth and I knew he’d say yes, eventually. “I don’t think you’ve conquered this groveling lark.”
“The Song of Youis a masterpiece,” Michelle blurted. “You’re a once-in-a-lifetime talent. You deserve eleventy billion Oscars—”
“Okay, I’ll help, I’ll help.” He waved her off. “Two-camera set up?”
“The whole nine yards,” she said. “You got full lighting kit too.”
“Who’s on data transfer?”
“Whoever you want,” Michelle said. “We got a bunch of freelancers.”
“No, I want Riley,” Elliot said. “I trust her.” He looked to me. “You good with me doing this?”
“I – do I have any say?” I asked.
“Why don’t you come along?” Michelle asked me.
“Um.” I waved RJ’s notes in the air. “Because of deadlines?”
“Yeah, but this is an emergency,” Michelle said. “Ooh, actually, we will need a lighting stand-in for Sol. I was planning on grabbing one of the freelancers, but you could do it.”
“I look nothing like her,” I said, blushing hard.
“Dark hair, small.” Elliot shrugged. “That’ll do.”
“Average height, actually,” I sniffed.
“Average compared to what?” he shot back.
“Oh my God, literally stop whatever this is.” Michelle waved her arms at the two of us. “The junket finishes around five because Sol has TV commitments, it’s just a few hours of your time. What do you say?”
“Okay,” I said, throwing my hands up. “But only because you said I’m Sol’s exact double.”
“You’re way hotter,” Michelle said, with a giggle, before turning serious. “But, no, the woman is an actual goddess. Sorry.” She tapped something on her phone. “See you downstairs in five?”
As we filed out of the room, I grabbed Elliot’s arm. “What about the script?”
