Lin hiccupped. “Great. I’ll have a look now. Any joy with getting a meeting with Optimal Releasing?”
I nodded. “Yup. You have a meeting next Wednesday with Vanna, the head of production.”
Lin paused in her struggle to hang her trench coat on the stand next to her office door. “You serious?”
Another skill I’d mastered working here? The art of getting meetings with all the right people. “I’m not going to lie, it was tricky. My emails were going unanswered, and I placed so many calls they ignored. But Vanna’s assistant, Zoe, is a massive fan of Diplo.” Thanks to my efficient social media stalking, I knew that for a fact.
“And that matters why?” Lin slurred.
I pointed at the signed Diplo poster on our wall, a souvenir from one of our clients. “Sammo literally just shot Diplo’s last video and has tickets for his next gig. He was only too happy to pass them on to me and I of course let Zoe know straight away. Cue one ecstatic assistant who suddenly managed to find a slot in her boss’s diary.”
Lin’s eyes widened. “That’s … smart.”
I resisted the urge to sayNo shit.But I had a list of updates for her and a dinner date at Sergio’s to get to. “Also, got you a pass for the CineEurope trade show in June, and I’ve sent through some suggested delegates you should try and meet with when you go. All the major Hollywood studios will be there in force this year with a full roster of execs. The Mandarin Oriental is fully booked but there’s space at a gorgeous boutique hotel yards away from the trade show venue. You just need to tell me what flights you want.”
“Great.” Lin was checking her lipstick in a compact mirror. “Can you book a table at Furnace for tonight? 8 p.m.?”
“I … can try.” The hottest restaurant in London was unlikely to have a last-minute booking on a Friday but Lin did spend an obscene amount of money there on a monthly basis, so if the right person answered the phone, it might be possible. “For how many people?”
“Two.” Lin finally stopped inspecting her face and flashed an excited smile. “I have a date.”
“Oh, with the lawyer?” Lin’s love life deserved a movie adaptation of its own.
“Vik?” She grimaced. “No. He hasveneers. And he’s from Wolverhampton; there is no way I’m listening to that accent for the rest of my life.” Her eyes widened. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I said with an eye-roll. Lin often treated my being from Yorkshire as something of a disability.
“No, tonight I’m meeting Kristoff.” She breathed his name with reverence and raised a hand to start ticking off items on her fingers. “Swedish architect, Mayfair apartment, family money.”
“Sounds perfect.” Knowing Lin’s track record, she’d be on to the next prospect within a matter of days.
“He might very well be, so …” She gestured at my desk phone and started to head back to her office. “Furnace. I’ll check the brief quickly.”
As I started dialing Furnace, my mobile beeped with a text from Bex.
Just finishing getting ready for Sergio’s. LMK when you’re on your way.Cannot WAIT to see you. X
Wrapping up here, can’t wait to see you!If Lin approved the brief in a few minutes, I’d only be about a couple minutes late, which was perfectly acceptable.
After texting, I placed a call to Furnace. Luckily Shay was working, and Shay knew Lin very well, managing to find a late cancelation at 8.30 that Lin could have so long as they ate quickly and didn’t order the risotto. Once that was done, I sent Lin an instant message to confirm the booking then finished up some lingering admin. The seconds ticked by, yet Lin didn’t confirm approval for the brief. Anxiety gnawed away at me; I couldn’t send without her explicit approval, but it wasn’t unlike Lin to get distracted on other tasks and leave me hanging. Trouble was that my chasing her could either result in her doing what I needed to or biting my head off. I decided to risk Lin’s wrath.
As I lifted a hand to knock on her door, it suddenly flew open and Lin’s head poked out, cheeks red. “Cancel Furnace.”
“What happened?” Had she learned Kristoff was less than six foot tall? Did he have back acne? Or worse, pets?
She growled. “RJ.”
“Ah.” Ruben James aka RJ was one of Temper’s most prolific clients, based out of New York. A celebrated director, he owned a renowned production company that not only created his increasingly successful and upscale movies but had a new division that produced TV shows and short-form content. “What’s he done now?”
“Yet another draft of this script he’s written,” Lin replied. “He wants me to read and feed back on it tonight.”
“Standard RJ.” I tried to keep the envy out of my voice.The few occasions I got to assess scripts were truly the highlight of my job. I loved the analysis and the research that went into crafting a response. Homing in on what made a script commercial felt like an art form in itself. But Lin was the one who got to read virtually all the projects that came our way. If I ever got near a script, it was almost always to act as a glorified spellchecker.
“Why tonight?” she wailed. “It’s like he knows I have a date!”
“I could take a look?” I offered.
“What?” Lin looked up sharply. “You?”
