Page 6 of Sizzle Reel

Blatant lie. I’d make a horrible manager. I can’t convince anyone to do anything unless it’s over email. And this business is ruled by phones. Also, I’m not skeevy enough. I have, like, 1percent skeev when you need at least 78percent skeev.

This is already going badly, and all the time I spent rehearsing last night has been for naught.

“I was actually…I don’t want to be a manager, although I really appreciate your confidence.” I pause, looking at a spot just past Alice’s face. I can’t watch her expression change in real time. “I really want to be a cinematographer.”

“Oh.” She’s frowning—a tight-jawed frown that implies it all. “Yeah…”

I need to get out of here.

“I appreciate your honesty, but connecting you to any D.P. clients of mine to mentor you or even just to get you a specific camera P.A. job is a much larger burden on me than just pushing you up this company. Of course, someone of my caliber can get youa job on a buzzing indie or even a blockbuster, but…well,you understand, right?”

I feel like a fish that’s having a hook violently yanked out of its mouth. She’s killing me here, but “buzzing indie” and “blockbuster” send my heart fluttering. She never has to remove that hook. It’ll be fine. Let it get infected and kill me that way.

“So, you…” I don’t want to suggest are going to fire me.

“I’d need you to work with me longer,” she says. “Prove you’re really dedicated enough for me to call in a huge favor like that. A year should suffice.” She pauses. “Let me know by the end of the day. If you’re not interested, I’ll have to let you go. Shouldn’t hold you back from your dreams.”

My whole body goes numb, nerve by nerve, until I exit her office and return to my position. I can’t even feel my fingertips hitting the keyboard. We owe a lot of phone calls. Phone calls, I realize as the dejection builds up, on behalf of her director and D.P. clients.

The standard in agencies is two years. Three years are for people like Wyatt, who actually need the extra year training for a promotion to a manager position. Not as a stepping-stone to something else entirely.

Alice wants three years.

Wyatt’s listening in on one of Steven’s calls, so only Rain, my other next-door neighbor, notices me sit back down. Rain wants to be a screenwriter and has been in the process of transferring to the literary department for months now. Nice girl but visibly bitter she can’t get into literary. She leans toward me.

“Referral meeting?” she asks. She smells like watermelon, and I’m suddenly unsure if I’m just noticing the scent of her shampoo by accident or if this is the first sign that I like her.

“Yeah,” I reply.

“I’m so sorry you’re with Alice,” she says. “She’s really flighty, right?”

Yeah. No one told me this when I jumped on her desk, but after two years, I believe it. “She said another year and she’d get me a big-name starter gig.”

Just the way Rain stares at me, her brow slightly wrinkling before she averts her gaze, says it all. She doesn’t believe Alice, and she’s never even worked with her. As I sink lower in my seat, I don’t really either. Another year with Alice for the chance she’ll push me toward my dreams, or I’m out of a job. I have enough savings to last only through July without income, and I refuse to return to my parents’ house, especially now that there’s a little looming bisexual secret between us.

It feels like this couldn’t get worse.

Wyatt sets his phone down. Looks at me. Frowns. “You okay?” he asks.

My throat is suddenly very tight. “Alice won’t give me a referral.”

“Ever?”

“She said in a year. Maybe.”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

And suddenly Wyatt’s on his feet. Grabbing his phone and keys.

“Is everything okay with you?” I ask.

Wyatt’s eyes widen into a look of fear and panic I almost never see on him. “Lune…I have a doctor’s appointment. We talked about this yesterday. You’re covering my desk until lunch.”

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