Picture Perfect

Jeff rolled his eyes. ‘You and everyone else in this room,’ he scoffed.

Zoe sipped more champagne and felt the amber liquid roll down her throat, hoping it would be an elixir of courage. ‘It’s simple, Jeff. The book comes with me attached as EP, that’s what Hugh and I have agreed, so don’t even think about going over my head. We have a contract even you couldn’t pull apart.’

Jeff was silent. Zoe pushed her chair back and stood up.

‘Think about it and call my office tomorrow if you’re interested, my assistant Paul will patch you through to my cell,’ she said, and made to walk away from the table.

‘Sit down and don’t make a scene,’ he snapped and again, she did as he asked.

Who needs who more? she wondered, as she felt the eyes of passing guests on them and saw waitstaff nervously pacing nearby, ready for the snap of Jeff’s temper.

There was silence, each one holding their cards close to their chest.

‘So you want to make movies, huh?’ Jeff asked finally with a sigh, as though she had just asked for the right to vote. ‘Not many women make it in this business. Do you think you can handle it?’

‘Don’t patronize me because I’m a woman,’ she said politely. ‘I can do any job as well as a man.’

‘I’m not. I don’t care what’s between your legs,’ he laughed. ‘I want to know you can handle the bullshit and the drama when your leading stars hate each other and I’m screaming at you on the phone and the director’s losing the plot and you haven’t slept in a week.’

Zoe smiled. ‘My film wouldn’t be like that,’ she stated.

‘Oh, really?’ Jeff smiled now, and he stared at her for a long time. ‘Why’s that?’

‘Because I would make sure everything was sorted before we got to set,’ she said, knowing she sounded naïve but she believed in thinking ahead, her whole life she had had to be one step ahead of everyone else.

Jeff pulled at the cuffs on his shirt, a glimpse of silver cufflinks caught the light and Zoe’s eye.

‘You can’t always be prepared for what happens while making a movie,’ said Jeff. ‘Life throws curveballs at all of us, even me.’

Zoe felt the room’s eyes on her, the sound of gossip and conjecture about why Zoe and Jeff were talking so intently. She heard laughter and some music, and somewhere a glass smashed but it was Jeff’s eyes boring into hers that steadied her.

‘Why do you want to make this movie, Greene?’ he asked.

‘Because it’s the most beautiful book I’ve ever read,’ she answered truthfully.

Jeff squinted and frowned and then he rolled his eyes and Zoe laughed as she continued.

‘And because it’s box office gold: the man who learns about love only after his wife is declared terminally ill? I mean, what about that isn’t perfect chick-flick fodder?’

‘And the author, do you think he can write a decent script?’

‘Yes, I think he can write a great script,’ she replied, crossing her fingers under the table.

Jeff swilled the Scotch in his glass, drained the last of it, and then cleared his throat.

‘This is the biggest hit in books since fuck knows what,’ he said. ‘I want it to be the best movie Palladium Pictures has ever produced, do you understand? This is the movie people will talk about when I die.’

Zoe nodded, secretly marvelling at Jeff’s ego. Did he come to Hollywood with that intact or did he earn it?

‘I understand,’ she said and then she appealed to his ego. ‘And this is why I’m coming to you,’ she said. ‘I want to learn from you.’

Jeff watched her as she sipped her drink, his eyes narrowed.

‘How old are you?’ he asked rudely, but Zoe didn’t flinch.

‘Thirty-six,’ she said.

‘You’re too old for me.’

Zoe laughed. ‘I don’t want to date you; I want you to teach me. You’re the perfect age to be my wise old teacher,’ she said with a cheeky smile, and she saw a flash of displeasure cross his face.

‘I thought you weren’t into men?’ He smirked, but she swallowed her temper.

‘Oh, I am into men, just not old ones,’ she said. ‘I prefer to leave them to the piranhas with silicone breasts and gold-digging dreams.’

Jeff laughed. ‘God knows there are plenty of those fish in the sea; I even married a few of them.’ Then he looked up at her, his face unreadable. ‘But not many like you, it seems.’

She sensed Jeff’s respect that she could hold her own.

‘Every agent, manager and motherfucker in LA was after this Brit. How the hell did you get him to sign with you, Greene?’

Zoe thought about her trip to London. She remembered the taxi ride to Hugh’s little house and the desolate, drunken state in which she’d found him. She had been shocked. The guy was so self-destructive he made Hemingway seem like a lightweight, but for some reason he had trusted Zoe. She had cleaned him up, brought him back to LA in secret, and rented him a secluded, light-filled house in Malibu where he could write, and dry out. She hadn’t even told Maggie that Hugh was in LA. ‘He trusts me,’ was all she said with a shrug.

Jeff nodded and shook his head. ‘You know I’m gonna try to screw you on the backend deal,’ he said.

‘You can try, but I doubt you’ll succeed,’ she answered, and for a brief moment, she saw respect in his eyes.

‘Come and see me tomorrow. I’ll get my assistant to call yours,’ he said.

‘So we have a deal?’ Zoe asked.

‘No, we don’t have a fucking deal! I asked for a meeting, not to fucking marry you.’

Zoe resisted the urge to punch him in his handsome but arrogant face.

Men like Jeff made her angry. Angry that they had more power than her and angry that she was just as deserving yet was still overlooked because she was a woman.

‘Okay, then you won’t mind if I go and meet with Harvey before you?’ she asked, using one of her last cards.

But what she understood about men like Jeff Beerman was that he hated competition of any kind.

Jeff stared at her, making her feel like she was twelve years old again and under the eyes of the social worker. Judging, assessing, making plans for her that weren’t in her best interest.

A small amount of bile rose in her throat but she swallowed it down with a sip of champagne.

‘Jesus, you’re a bitch, Greene,’ he muttered under his breath.

‘Why?’ she challenged, the heat rising in her cheeks. She couldn’t tell if it was him or the champagne that was making her flushed. ‘Because I want what I want? You get to be ambitious but I’m a bitch? I’m disappointed in you, Jeff. I thought you were better than that.’