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I don’t want to tell her, at least not right now, that I didn’t actually finish the book. So I pick the scene that made me stop reading, pick up the phone, and call Zev.
“Well, I’ll begin by saying that I found Azalia very relatable and easy to empathize with. And your writing was clear and vivid.” She sighs with impatience and I rush on. “But the part of the story that struck me was the playground scene. Where an argument about a toy escalates and another child hits Azalia.”
I see flare of surprise in her eyes. Her shoulders hitch the tiniest bit.
“What…why that scene?” She asks, clearly flustered and trying not to show it.
“Her mother’s muted response to seeing her child being bullied and hit infuriated me. I could feel Azalia’s heart breaking as, instead of receiving comfort from her mother, she was told that she should have just given the child her toy. The reader and Azalia’s resentment toward her mother are borne in exactly the same moment. And for Azalia that resentment takes years to leave. Yet, you make sure the reader understands her mother’s heartbreak and guilt. The powerlessness she experienced in that moment turns the reader’s resentment into empathy and--” Lucia starts to cough. She grabs the glass of water in front of her and takes a sip. Sol pats her back and even though she’s still coughing, she waves him away. He stops and we all wait for her to catch her breath. “I’m sorry, dry throat.” She says sheepishly once she’s recovered. “Please, go on.” She shifts uncomfortably in her chair and glances at Zev before she looks back at me, this time not quite meeting my eyes. I glance at Sol but he just nods for me to continue.
“Well, that scene and the ones that follow are a turning point in the story. They crystalized, perfectly, how defenseless a child is when they live in a country that’s unwilling to give them protections of residency. And even though more harrowing things happen to her later in the book, that’s where her character’s refusal to accept the meager scraps she was being offered came from. And as much as I know about this issue and care about it, I spend most of my time talking to adults. Reading as a seven-year-old child learns that she's to spend her entire life being punished for a crime she didn’t commit, was really powerful. And I think audiences will respond well and will feel compelled to act.”
I glance at Zev. He’s looking at me wide eyed. I’ve kept my politics separate from the studio. He’s probably never heard me talk about this before and I know that my passion probably surprises him. He knows me as a pragmatist. Objective and unemotional. My motto is What we feel isn’t as important as what we know. But this, for me is an issue where what I feel and what I know are perfectly aligned.
“We have an obligation to the DREAMERS. They’ve been raised here, educated here. They love this country and it’s their home. And Throw Away the Key, through its the characters and its message, makes that argument in a visceral and honest way that will translate beautifully on screen”
Her expression has softened, and it’s as if she’s seeing me in a different light. She gives me an almost imperceptible, but very real, smile before she looks at Sol and nods.
He opens his briefcase and pulls out a thick document. He sets it on the table in front of them. When he starts to slide across the table toward me, Lucia lays a protective hand on top of it and stops Sol’s from pushing it any further.
He gives Lucia a small frown, and she pushes the document in my direction. “This is an agreement we drafted.” I don’t pick it up yet. Sol continues, “The highlights are this: She wants to write the screenplay, she wants to be involved in casting and have the right of refusal. We’ve detailed her requests for an advance and back- end royalties. She doesn’t want to do any press- the studio and the actors can have all the screen time. Everything else is pretty standard.” He taps the stack with a finger and says “Read it, let your lawyers look over it. Sign it, and we have a deal.”
These terms are almost unheard of. Yet, I don’t miss a beat responding.
“Fine.” I return even as I feel Zev’s eyes burning a hole into the side of my face.
She looks at Sol and gives him a broad, joyous grin. The energy of it brightens the entire room.
I want her to smile at me like that.
Where that thought came from, I don’t know, but I banish it. I’m on a mission.
Just like every beautiful woman in this town, I’m sure she knows exactly how affects men. I’m not falling for that. Been there, done that.
I glance at Zev, and he’s staring at me. His bafflement and anger on unfettered display across his face. I’ll have to deal with him in a minute. I look back at Sol and Lucia, “We’ll have this reviewed and signed by early next week.”
* * *
Sol raises a surprised eyebrow at me but only nods. Then, pats Lucia’s hand in a very fatherly gesture. This surprises me Sol is not known for his warmth, not even with his oldest clients. “Well, then we’ll consider this meeting adjourned until then. We’re looking forward to working with you.” They start to stand, but I stop them.
“So, we sign your paperwork and the story is ours?” I ask, wanting to be sure that we are all on the same page.
Lucia straightens completely and I have to stop my eyes from looking at the scar, jagged and angry, that runs down the right side of her belly button. I want to ask her what happened. I want to touch it, and see how it feels in contrast to the otherwise smooth skin of her stomach.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Yes. If you sign that document,” she says pulling me back to the conversation. She nods at the papers on the table, “we’ll have a deal.” She puts her hand out for me to shake and I do. Her grip is firm and when our palms touch, I feel it and so does she. Her eyes fly to mine as she pulls her hand back. Her eyes are wide, and her lips slightly parted in surprise.
I can still feel the energy from her palm in my now empty hand I can hear the rasp in my voice when I say “Thank you for coming in.”
Her nod is a quick jerky motion and she glances between my face and her hand.
“Sure. Thank you for inviting us.” Without saying goodbye, or waiting for Sol, she turns and walks out of the room. I watch her go, my eyes on the patchwork of torn fabric interspersed with bronzed skin that runs the length of her shapely legs.
“Reece, you have until Monday with those papers and then we’re talking to other studios.” Sol says. He’s also followed my gaze. And when he looks back at me, he’s frowning, his expression one of rebuke and warning then, he follows her out. I close my eyes, annoyed that he saw me ogling her.
As soon as the door closes behind him, Zev pounces.
“Reece. What. The. Fuck? You can’t be serious.” He leans toward me and says this in a loud whisper as he if he’s af
