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I clear my throat to make sure I don’t sound angry before I speak. “I’m sorry if I came across that way. Falling into the pool rattled me. I have no reason to dislike you. I’m looking forward to working together.”
“Good. Glad you made that decision quickly.”
I pick up the coffee he brought. It’s strong and black, just the way I hate it. But, I drink it like it’s the most delicious beverage I’ve ever had.
When I was little and my dad would scold me, Julian would always say, “If you don’t want people to talk down to you, then behave yourself.” It’s a piece of advice I live by. God, I miss Julian.
Thinking of him makes my eyes sting. I look back at Reece to see him watching me. His expression is pensive. I remind myself where I am and who I’m with and the sting in my eyes goes away.
“Okay, let’s get down to business.”
I glance at my watch and see it’s already seven thirty. I’d asked the two screenwriters to meet me at the office at eight thirty.
As if reading my mind, Reece says, “We have time.” He strolls over to the other side of the kitchen island and presses a button. A drawer pops open and I watch in horror as he drops his half-eaten pastry inside. Wasting food is a sin. My mother never threw anything away and neither did I. When he looks up and catches my eye he must misunderstand the cause for the horror on my face.
“Oh, that’s the trash can. Did you think I was putting garbage into your kitchen drawer?”
“I know that’s the trash. Why did you throw that away?” I ask him.
“Because . . . I’m full,” he says slowly, as if I’m the dense one.
“There was almost an entire half left. Why didn’t you just save it for later?”
He quirks his head like he’s just seen a three-legged kangaroo.
“Save it for later? What? Like put it in my pocket?” He’s amused.
I roll my eyes unable to hide my exasperation. “Of course not. Just wrap it in a paper towel and put it the bag. That was so wasteful.” I huff.
His eyes widen with genuine surprise. Then, he walks back to the drawer, presses the button to open it again and peers inside. He starts mumbling to himself.
“Nothing else in here . . . Should be safe enough.”
He reaches inside and pulls out the pastry. With a wink, he takes a huge bite.
I know my mouth is open. I know I’ve got bug eyes, too. I don’t care.
He finishes chewing and sits down on one of the barstools. “What? I’ve never really thought about it before, but you’re totally right,” he says matter-of-factly before taking a huge gulp of coffee. He looks at me and smirks.
“I’m not a monster, Lucía. I can admit when I’m wrong.” He does a ceremonial drum roll on the counter and my eyes follow the motion of his hands. They are huge with a dusting of hair on the backs of them. I was in a panic when he lifted me out of the pool, but I remember the way they felt as he rubbed my arms to warm me up. They’re strong. There was a sureness in his touch that helped me to calm down.
“Are you imagining my hands around your throat? You’re staring at them like you’ve just seen me use them for something nefarious.”
“I wasn’t thinking anything. I’m just waiting for you to tell me whatever it is you came here to say.”
He laughs, but it’s more of a scoff and I know I’m blushing again. I’m annoyed with myself for being so transparent.
“Okay, Lucía. I know this is all new to you and I want you to understand some of the dynamics. A novice leading a screenwriting team is nearly unheard of. So, prepare yourself for pushback from your team. They are going to test you, push you, they might even try to undermine you.” He takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving mine. He must see the mild panic as it skitters across my face. “I’m not trying to scare you. It’s just the nature of the beast,” he says, his tone reassuring.
“You have two jobs. The first one, obviously, is to get the screenplay written. The second is to lead the team. To be the person who makes difficult calls and then deals with the fallout. You’ve got to manage the group dynamic. They’ll feed off your energy. So, you need to do whatever it is you do to keep yourself even and focused. You guys will write almost every day except for whatever you decide are your off days. You’ll have read-backs where you go over what you’ve written. Ultimately, you decide what works, what doesn’t and where you’re going next with the story.”
He hops off the stool and starts pacing.
“And when the team is done, you need to go over the pieces everyone wrote and make sure that you’re getting the best from people. The strength of the writing is going to be important. This story is character driven, and dialogue is what’s going to tell it wel
l or fuck it up.”
He stops his pacing and looks at me. “You have any questions?”
