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“Mid-twenties,” she demurred. “But I don’t think I have a literary classic in me.”
Callum’s mouth pulled down in the corners. “You’ve been corrupted by the movie business, haven’t you?”
“I can’t help it. I love it.” Willow glanced over at me. “So does Julian. He really cares about making good movies.”
It was beneath Callum to make a crack about aliens. To do so would require admitting that he knew what was going on in the pop culture world, and even if he did, he’d sleep outside in the snow before he admitted it. Still, he gave me a skeptical once over and went back to focusing on Willow.
“Tell me something,” he demanded. “Why is it that every time someone writes a good book, someone wants to turn it into a bad movie?”
I winced, wondering if he’d ever get over what the silver screen had done to his debut novel. If twenty years and millions of dollars hadn’t healed the wound, nothing ever would. Again, I cursed the studio that had discarded his subtle, beautiful story and bent the title around a hackneyed action movie.
“No one wants to turn it into a bad movie,” Willow corrected.
“A movie at all, then.” Callum threw up his hands. “Why does creation have to pander to every medium lately? Print isn’t enough, it has to be an audiobook or a movie or a miniseries or a podcast. I don’t understand why.”
His last words came out plaintive, like he really was asking Willow to explain. Willow looked caught off guard for a minute, but she quickly recovered. “Because what makes a book great isn’t the words alone. It’s the message, the story, the power of the narrative. Now, if you’re a reader, print is enough. But so many people aren’t. Movies help the power of the narrative in the book transcend the barriers of print. It allows your book to touch people who would have never experienced it otherwise.”
“So what you’re saying is, movies are for people who are too damn lazy to read,” Callum said, his frown deepening.
I knocked my leg into Willow’s under the table.Get him, the knock said. Willow didn’t need my encouragement or permission though. She was already leaning forward, a response on her tongue.
“No, it’s not always about laziness. It’s about access. It’s about time. The world is moving so fast now, Callum, you have no idea how fast your average person has to move to keep up with it. Reading for hours is a luxury. When I’m on a job, it’s nearly impossible for me to get enough free time to focus on a book, and Ilovereading. Movies give people like me access to brilliance like yours. It’s just a taste, but it’s better than nothing. And once they get a taste, you can believe they’ll want more. Movies aren’t taking people away from your books, they’re leading them to them.”
Her eyes were bright with passion. This wasn’t bullshit. Every word she said was true, and Callum could feel it. It had taken the indignant wind out of his puffed-up sails. I could feel his self-righteousness deflating.
“When they’re done right,” I added, deciding it was time to throw in my two cents. “And I would make sure thatAll the Dying Lightwas done right.”
“And so would I,” Willow added fiercely.
If Callum was impressed, he wasn’t about to let us see it. He harrumphed again and went to the refrigerator to pull out a vegan cheesecake that tasted damn good. Then he poured us all strong cups of coffee, despite the hour creeping close to 10 pm. Willow and I exchanged glances and shrugged. If he wanted to keep us around, we were staying.
Callum drank his coffee slowly, thoughtfully. His gaze was far away. Willow and I carried the conversation, talking about what was going on with Miller and the documentary. Then, at the end of the evening when we were getting up to leave, I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask. “So you have to tell me, Callum. Do I stand a chance, or did I waste my time coming down here?”
Callum grunted, and I figured that was going to be the totality of his response. Then he said almost reluctantly, “I’m not saying you wasted your time, Lewis.” He glanced at Willow. “It was a smart move, bringing the brains of the operation.”
Willow laughed, pleased. I was pleased, too. She was the brains. She’d found an in with Callum I never would have with all that talk about imitation meat. And she’d articulated the importance of movies so much better than I ever could have. It sounded damn near noble to let me turn his book into a movie, the way she put it.
“I’m so fucking impressed,” I told her honestly when we got back to our cabin and shut the door behind us. “You might have just gotten us the rights toAll the Dying Light.”
She flipped her hair in an exaggerated motion and grinned. “It was luck.”
“No, it was shrewd and heartfelt intelligence.” I wrapped my arms around her waist and looked down at her as if seeing her for the first time. “If we get this movie, you have to work on it.”
“I’d like that,” Willow murmured. “I liked him.”
But despite her words, her eyes had lost their sparkle, and there was something haunted in the corners of her smile. Shadows.
Would I ever understand what the hell was going on in her head?
23
WILLOW
Julian and I made it back to the motel the following afternoon. It took hours to dig out the car and then a path from the parking lot to the road, which had thankfully been plowed. Julian was in a good mood on the way back. He kept insisting that I had done it. If Lewis Productions got the rights, it was down to me. He was full of plans and ideas for how I could work on the movie. It all sounded amazing. It all sounded impossible.
When we got back to the motel, Julian made things easy on me by going straight into the bathroom to take a hot shower. I slipped out to the lobby to make my phone call anyway. I wasn’t taking any chances.
Fletcher updated me on the sustainability campaign that Fletcher Films had launched. It sounded like a lot of marketing and very little change. He had to be spending close to a million dollars, and the odds that the news of his good deeds would reach Callum in his remote compound were slim.
