Although skeptical, I did as I was told. At first, I saw nothing out of the ordinary, just the darkened city with a muddy black sky above it. But then I became aware of two things; first, that the sense of peace I’d experienced when I first came here was even more profound, and also that the city around Twenty-Third Street may have been dark but there were still glimmers of activity. A light went on in the top floor of a tenement and I could clearly see a man begin to polish a huge mirror. I wondered what on earth was going on his life that such a task couldn’t wait. My eyes were drawn to a balconyon the neighboring building where a woman in a flowing nightgown paced with a tiny baby. A bodega on the street opened its door and trumpet music billowed out, accompanying two girls in vibrant red dresses who danced down the pavement towards the subway. It was oddly comforting, being this invisible witness to the relentless heartbeat of the city at night.
“This is officially the quietest spot on the High Line,” Elliot murmured. “I come here when I want to think.”
“At night?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“So, you’re regularly breaking into a city park?” I said in disbelief. “You’re really committed to your thinking time.”
“I have a lot to think about.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees.
“Like what?” The words slipped out before I even realized, and I rushed to add, “Sorry, your thoughts. Private.”
“No, it’s all right,” he said softly. “Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about my career, what I want my life to look like.”
I understood the all-consuming focus on your career, the preoccupation and the planning. “You have a job that millions would kill for.”
“Oh yeah,” he said with a bark of a laugh. “Ruben James’s right-hand man. Living the fucking dream.”
His tone was so bitter, it took me a second to come up with a response. “I get the sense you don’t believe that.”
“I did once.” He snickered. “RJ hired me when he saw my film for Tribeca festival. Declared me his protégé, that a few years with him would open doors.”
“And has it?” I asked.
“Well, it’s ten years later – do you see me making my own movies?” Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I get it.” More than he could imagine. “You should be making movies.”
“I know,” he said in a ‘well duh’ voice.
“No, really,” I said. “I watchedThe Song of You.”
“You did?”
“I loved it.” Those words didn’t do it justice.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“RJ would be crazy not to give you the second director gig,” I told him. “If that’s what you can do with a short, I can’t wait to see what you could do with a full-length feature that has actual budget.”
“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.
I nodded.
“My buddy Josh from NYU heads up a directors’ collective called Stoof.”
“Stoof Collective?” I practically yelled. “They’re incredible! Lin’s tried to sign them multiple times for UK representation.” They were a buzzy outfit based in LA who specialized in boundary-pushing work for all manner of clients.
“I know,” Elliot said. “Josh was nominated for a Creative Emmy recently for a project I consulted on for him in my spare time. Now, he wants me to come on board as a director.”
I could hardly hide my excitement. “Elliot, this is huge.”
There was silence. Then, “I turned him down.”
Elation gave way to confusion. “Why?”
“I’d have to move to LA.”
