Her generosity, so easily given, floored me. “Thanks,” I said. “Although, I’m not really a writer.”I’m a frustrated PA.
“But you’re writing,” Sol said. “That makes you a writer.”
“I never thought of it that way,” I said. “But, ultimately, I want to produce.”
“Oh for real, that’s where I need to be,” Sol said, laughing when my eyes widened in surprise. “Seriously. I’m starting my own production company,” she said. “Make shit that matters but also, you know, money. For too long this industry has been driven by the pale, male and stale. Time to overthrow.”
“We ride at dawn,” I said gleefully.
“I have warpaint!” Sol’s make-up artist lifted his kit-bag.
“I can throw a serious punch,” Naya said, flexing an impressive bicep.
Sol shot me a victorious glance. “See? We have all we need,” she said. “I’m so sick of seeing the same old, same old, clogging up theater screens. Seems like all we get is plastic shit with no soul from people failing upwards.”
Although her assessment was pretty savage, it was refreshing to hear such open opinions. “Tell me about it. I’ve been trying to get my own project off the ground – do you knowTwin Roses?” I had a feeling she’d appreciate what I was working towards.
Sol brightened. “The book? Yeah, my mom reads it once a year. In fact, I think that book lives on her nightstand.”
“Well, I think it’s ripe for adaptation,” I said. “I’ve been working on a pitch. Powerful women, epic love story.”
“It’s kind of an old book, no?”
“True, but my thinking is we can easily update it.” I saw interest sparkle in Sol’s eyes, and I took a deep breath. “Set it in New York, not Ohio. Really lean into the sexual element as a visualization of female empowerment. And, God, the fashion, we could really use that as a calling card. This is a story about women who love hard with no apologies.”
“Oof, I love that.Love hard with no apologies.” Sol gestured at Naya, who reached inside her purse and handed me a business card.
“Is this … ?” The card displayed Sol’s contact details, email and phone. “Wha—?”
Sol grinned. “This project sounds like my type of thing, and I want to hear more about it. Hey, why don’t you give me your card? You have a business card, right?”
I was struck dumb for a second. “You … you wantmycard?”
“Yeah!” Sol laughed. “My horoscope told me to forge new professional connections today, so here I am.” She waved her hands around. “Witness me forging.”
“I … I don’t have a card.” Why thefuckdidn’t I have a business card?
“Here.” Ralf materialized as if from nowhere, his own card aloft. “You can take mine, Sol.”
Sol regarded his card suspiciously. “Why would I wantyourcard?”
“Well, Lucie’s returning home to London soon,” he said.
“You are?” Sol looked at me with mild disappointment.
“Well not, like, immediately,” I said, trying not to let my irritation with Ralf show. “But when my work on the script is done, I’ll have to go back to England before my visa expires. I’m here for a while though.” If I had to use what little freetime I had in New York to nurture a connection with Sol, I’d do it.
Sol took Ralf’s card and he beamed with satisfaction.
“You can call me anytime,” he said. “Any project you want to get off the ground, we can do it. I can be your point on this—”
“This says junior producer,” Sol observed.
Ralf chuckled awkwardly. “You’ve got a keen eye. Yes, technically, my title is junior, but let me assure you—”
“Do you have a pen?” Sol asked.
“Why, yes.” Ralf reached into his pocket and pulled out a flashy titanium ballpoint, shooting me a triumphant grin that made my stomach churn.
