Young Adulting - Christina Benjamin Page 0,12

of reason told me to calm down. My ego was wrapped up in this script and I knew it. I mean, this was seriously the closest thing I had to a baby. But I’d known from the moment I started submitting it that there would be notes. And then there would be more notes from a director, and from the studio heads and from the producers…

The list went on and on. Everyone had opinions on the script in this business, from the key grip to the executive producer. It was all part of the game.

I knew that.

I cocked my head to the side to stretch out some of the tension in my neck and shoulders. I took a deep breath. I’d read through her notes again when I wasn’t so freakin’ tense. After the party, maybe. There was a possibility some of her notes had merit.

Maybe.

Or maybe this wasn’t the match made in heaven I’d thought it was. If Isabelle didn’t understand the fundamentals of my script, we had a problem. But a more immediate problem presented itself as I reread the last line of her email again.

‘I’d love to meet you to discuss these changes at your earliest convenience. I’m available any day this week, except tonight. I’m attending the Gold City premiere. Maybe I’ll see you there?’

I huffed a laugh. She certainly would. But that was the problem. She wasn’t looking forward to meeting Henry Landon, she wanted Leo Lang, who didn’t exist.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and walked across the lot toward one of the cafes on site, hoping the trek would give me time to calm down and collect my thoughts. But by the time I had coffee and croissant in hand I was no better off.

Why the heck had I come up with a fake name?

I should’ve just sent the script in anonymously. Now I’d dug myself a hole I wasn’t sure how to get out of.

The one thing I had going for me was that Isabelle Ellis didn’t know Henry Landon and Leo Lang were one and the same. Maybe I’d be able to find her at the premiere and feel her out. I mean, why bother admitting I’d lied if I didn’t think she was the right person to help me develop my script, right?

I pulled out my phone and quickly typed out a response.

‘I wish I could attend the premiere but I’m out of the country at the moment. Let’s talk when I return. – L’

There, that ought to buy me some time.

Izzy

This was officially the best day of my life.

Carolina pulled a lock of hair and I flinched. “Ow!”

“Beauty is pain.” My gorgeous blonde model of a roommate said this in her Russian accent. Her voice was low and monotone, which was kind of creepy, especially when she was wielding a hot curling iron.

Okay, so today was the best day of my life, minus the pain.

But every once in a while I caught sight of myself in the mirror and was starting to be convinced that maybe Carolina was right.

Maybe all this pain would be worth it if I could show up at this party feeling like I might actually belong.

And you do. You will!

I had to clamp my lips together to smother another squeal of excitement.

“Izzy, your lipstick,” Carolina snapped.

I stopped pressing my lips together with a rueful wince. “Sorry,” I muttered. Although it was our roommates Ashley and Becca who had done my makeup, with Becca tweezing my eyebrows as Ashley did some sort of skincare cleanse that left me feeling like I’d shed five layers of skin. But with Carolina, it was best to apologize first and figure out why you were apologizing later.

She sniffed and turned back to my hair and I was once more free to revel in my newfound good fortune. I mean, even my permanently bored looking roommates had admitted that this was a really good deal. Not many interns got a chance to pitch a script to producers, and not one of us had ever gone to a movie premiere.

But this was happening. It’s all happening! That confidence and excitement I’d come to Hollywood with a few months ago was back in full force.

I wasn’t gonna lie—it had been tough going there for a while. Surviving in Hollywood was harder than I’d expected, and I’d expected it to be rough. But between the grueling hours, the long commute, the new roommate routine, the fiercely competitive peers, and this constant feeling