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Guessing by the back of his head, Jordan, a director employed often by the studio and Leo’s bestie, isn’t excited about this suggestion.
“Nah man, it’s a critical scene. Editors can work a lot of magic, but you can’t ask computers and machines to recreate the raw and truthful emotion this scene needs from an actor.”
Jordan is young, in his mid-thirties, and sometimes acts even younger. But he’s brilliant and has a million awards to prove it.
“I understand, Jordan,” Leo says with a deep sigh. “However, I hopeyouunderstand that you might miss the entry deadline for Cannes if your editors can’t handle an expedited timeline on the other side of a reshoot.”
Another thing about Leo: he never minces words. While it might take people like Teresa forever to get to the point, Leo doesn’t believe in wasting anyone’s time.
I can’t see Jordan’s face, but his body language exudes confidence and determination as he stands up from the chair. He looks every bit a stereotypical director: everything shoved into the pockets of his cargo pants, an old lightweight white button-up shirt that looks like he’s slept in it for about a week, and a black ball cap. The only thing he’s missing is a megaphone strapped to his belt.
“Always a risk taker, this one, huh?” Peyton Camden, Leo’s cousin and executive at the studio, chimes in.
“Well, it’s worked out for me before, Peyton.” I can almost hear the wry smile Jordan shoots his way as he subtly refers to his Academy Award. Jordan’s turning around and leaving the room before Peyton can say anything else.
“He’s been looking for you,” Jordan stage whispers when he sees me just outside the door. He winks, obviously teasing me before walking away.
I’m so focused on the cold sweat running down my back and creeping along my hairline that I don’t even make out the words Leo and Peyton are saying. Eventually, Peyton leaves, storming past me with no acknowledgment and a thoroughly annoyed expression.
I stay where I am for a couple of seconds that feel like an eternity. I don’t even know what to say to Leo when he asks where I’ve been. I just don’t think I can bring myself to tell him that I’m having visa problems and will be deported. Not yet. I just need more time to think.
“You can stop lurking and come into my office now, Isa.” Leo’s voice echos and I take a deep breath, walking purposefully to stop in front of his desk.
“Where have you been?” Again, direct and to the point. Part of me hoped he would give me some time to breathe. Another part of me hoped Teresa had already talked to him. But no. Now I have to say something.
“Um – I’m sorry Leo. Teresa had some urgent paperwork for me.” I mean, I’m notlying. It’s just the paperwork isn’t going to do anything helpful right now.
But if I thought it was hard to lie to Cody, it’s infinitely harder to lie to Leo. At least I can occasionally get one by Cody. It’s impossible with Leo. Case in point: he immediately looks up from the script he’s reading and locks on to me with those green eyes. His right eyebrow peaks. For one quick moment, I'm held hostage by his eyes because, god, they’re pretty.
He looks at me – no, hestudiesme. But something inside him decides not to press the issue.
“Well, if everything’s sorted out, there’s work still to do.” He stands up, buttoning his gray suit, and starts walking around his desk, not stopping until the elevator. Somehow, after my dash through the building, I can keep up.
I take a deep breath that I hope is silent as I join him at the bank of elevators. Deportation is still lingering in the back of my mind. I still have no idea what I’m going to do. Leo and I work well together, but I know he’ll just let me go on the spot and hire someone new. Obviously, he can’t hold my job for me.
But I love my job. I love this place and I want to stay.
And it occurs to me: maybe, just maybe, Leo could help me if I tell him. The thought lingers as we make our way to the soundstage.
Chapter 2
Leo
Inmyyearsofserving as CEO of Camden Studios, I’ve learned most people can be real critical assholes of movies. I have tried to get used to it, mostly with success, and I definitely never let anyone’s criticism change how I run things around here. Sure, I'll listen, but if there's no merit, it's gone, out of my head. If you don't have the strength to be visionary, every little comment can throw you off. And that's not going to happen with me. Not ever.
But the hard reality is there's a balance between art and money. At the end of the day, it’s a business and sometimes, the artistry gets lost in translation, especially when filmmakers get greedy and favor money over artistic recognition or innovation.
I’ve always tried to prioritize the viewers' experience over the box office cash, and I’ve butted heads with other executives in my circle about this topic. But it’s why I’m very… involved in any of the films we’re creating in and releasing from this studio. Other's might say too involved, but that's my jam.
This was my dad’s company, and he spent his life building its reputation. I don’t want it to all fall apart under my watch.
Which is why I hire people like Jordan. He can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Like when he demands a reshoot when we probably could clean things up in editing. But goddamn, the man’s brilliant.
I walk into Studio One, the first sound stage ever built on this lot and where I always feel the weight of the legacy from my father the strongest. And right now, it’s transformed into a 1950s dream world where we’re shooting a romantic period drama.
“Sound?” Jordan’s voice echos with authority, rising above the din of the noise as everyone gets ready to shoot.
“Sound good,” the sound mixer calls back. His eyes widen ever so slightly when he notices me standing behind Jordan, a barely perceptible shift. But I also notice how some of the crew members are walking a little faster since my arrival. As long as they do their jobs, I don’t care what they feel about me being here.
