fingernails on the keyboard sounded up again. “Do you want to take the meeting or not?”
“You really won’t tell me who it’s with beforehand?”
“No. But I honestly can’t believe you can’t tell who wrote it after you read it. Even before I saw the name on the title page, I felt like I was reading through someone’s diary. It’s too personal to be anything other than someone’s real thoughts and feelings in script form. Think about it, Maren.”
As much as I loved what I read, I wasn’t sure about going into a blind meeting. But I didn’t want to let my own issues with trust get between all the progress and success Lennon had ushered into my life. She’d never steered me wrong, and I wanted to believe she never would, so I was going to have to take a leap of faith and trust she wouldn’t put me in a situation I couldn’t handle. She was so passionate about this project. I knew if I didn’t agree to the meeting, I would never hear the end of it. I also knew myself well enough to know that I would be engulfed with regret if the script landed in the wrong hands and was stripped of everything that made it special just to make it more palatable for a wider audience.
I leaned against the railing of the balcony and sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll meet the writer with the caveat that if any part of the encounter feels off or weird, I’m out of there. I’m serious, Lennon. I expect one-hundred-percent professionalism, regardless of how much experience the other side has. I will not be pressured into anything.”
The clicking turned into the sound of her hand, smacking something hard. She was clearly elated by my change of heart. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist once you read it. Let me contact their side and set something up. As of now, they’re keeping this project pretty close to the vest, so our eyes were some of the first on the finished draft of the script. I have a really good feeling about this.”
“I really wish you’d give me a name. If only for peace of mind.” I muttered, “My best friend would.”
“But your agent knows you need to make a decision based on talent and possibilities, not on letters in the alphabet arranged a certain way. I’ve got to go. I have a couple of contracts to go over still, and I promised to meet another client for drinks later. I’ll get back to you with a day and time for the meeting. I’m proud of you for being so brave.”
I didn’t feel like I was being brave. I felt like I was being reckless.
The story that lived inside that script was too good to ignore though. I could still feel the aftershocks of all the emotions it pulled out of me. It’d been a long time since I allowed myself to feel so freely. I wanted that kind of healing and catharsis for others—especially those who really needed it.
This was the kind of movie I’d wanted to make when I decided to ignore all my father’s hopes for me and chase after my dream of being an actress. This was the kind of movie that gave me solace when I was lost in loneliness when I was young. I knew my father loved me more than anyone or anything, but it was apparent that his life was not an easy one. Movies were an escape we enjoyed together. It was always fun to imagine what life would be like if we were different people. They helped me feel less like an oddball. TV and movies often depicted sad stories and showed broken homes. There were girls like me on the screen, ones who struggled to make friends and were often outcast for one reason or another. They always seemed to find their happy ending, so I hoped I would, too. Plus, I liked that most cinematic single dads eventually found their own happiness and happy ever after, which was all I ever wanted for my own father.
Unfortunately, neither one of us had managed to land the kind of love that left warm and wonderful feelings in the heart.
We hardly spoke. Even when I’d been on his television every single week and sent him enough money so he would never have to work another day in his life, he’d never fully forgiven me for leaving home without warning and choosing