Page 42 of Director's Cut

“Maybe you’ll meet some other time. I think one of his clients got a role in the thriller you’re doing right now,” Luna continues. “Some guy named Chance or something.”

“Oh, the really, really tall guy,” Mason says. “Yeah, great asset, that one.”

I glance at my phone. The restaurant closes in an hour, Charlie’s handing Luna a dessert menu, and I still haven’t figured out what to do about the HBO show.

I need to get Mason out of here.

“Hey, Charlie, do you still have that joint?” I ask him quietly.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, rummaging through his pockets. I meet his eyes and motion to Mason, and he nods. “Mase, wanna take a hit with me?”

“I drove,” she replies.

“Yeah. Just…come with me.”

Mason looks between me and Luna, probably doing a lot of confusing math about Luna’s relationship status and the fact that I’ve been saying Luna and I weren’t a good match for a year now. But she stands up to leave before saying, “Order me a carrot cake.”

Once Charlie and Mason are gone, Luna looks to me with fear. “Is everything okay?”

“Did your old manager boss ever fire a client?” I ask.

Luna takes a sip of sake. “I don’t think so. She certainly badmouthed clients every day. And she thought a lot of them made really stupid decisions.” She grimaces. “Did you do something to Trish?”

“I…” I look away. “Need to decline a really good role to try to pursue this girl.”

Luna’s eyes light up like a freakin’ Christmas tree. “Oh my god, who is she? Is she a costar?”

Even though I managed to adjust to Luna being with Romy pretty quickly after our breakup, she’s been less inclined to bring up my dating life. A part of me thinks she doesn’t actually want to know. Or, well, didn’t want to know. She seems genuinely enthusiastic about this now.

“No, she’s uh”—fuck, I just remembered Luna went to USC—“an SCA professor.”

Luna gasps. “Who? I didn’t even know SCA had queer professors!”

“Maeve Arko. She works in cinema and media studies.”

Luna’s eyes light up in recognition, and I’m almost embarrassed. Up until now, I’ve been convinced that I discovered Maeve. “Yeah, she taught New Queer Cinema our senior year! I didn’t know she was gay. Romy was dying to get into that class but never had the chance. That’s…a small world.” She frowns. “Isn’t it too early in your relationship for you to just decline a role like that?”

My sweet still-baby bisexual.

Of course, Maeve could not like me like I like her. She might not even want to do anything more than make out again. But if I don’t risk it all for her, then I might as well not risk it for anyone else ever again. How can I explain that without sounding like I’m counting my chickens before they hatch? How can I explain that I’ve never met anyone as intelligent and compassionate, that her opinions on even the most mundane topics enthrall me, that she’s noticed my pain in a way no one else ever has, that I can’t stop thinking of having her under me?

“What’s the best way to soften the blow, from a manager’s perspective?”

“Does Trish believe in love?” Luna asks. “I mean, that’s a legit excuse. You deserve to find happiness in your life…”

“I can’t risk it. Too personal,” I say. “These are still business relationships. Was there ever a time that Alice wasn’t pissed when a client of hers declined a really good opportunity?”

“Honestly”—Luna leans back in her chair—“I think you just have to bargain with her. All she wants to do is keep your career alive. You’re both on the same side, you just have different perspectives.”

Right.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

There’s no way this is going to go well, but here I am, running my hand along the same red Gucci belt I nearly fucked Maeve in, as if this thing is good luck. I’m not sure what I’m doing. I didn’t have to dress up for this meeting. But I’m here, sitting in the lobby of Trish’s company in my reading glasses, as if that’s not weird. Like Trish even cares whether I look professional. Maybe I should have slept last night. Maybe not buying a mediocre latte at the café here (the coffee is the one thing I miss about Slater Management and Steven) right after checking in would’ve been smart too.

I flip through the HBO script one last time. Charlie was right. It’s exceptionally well written. I think I’ve read it five times in the last twenty-four hours, and four of those times were during the hours I should’ve been sleeping. It would truly be an incredible project to work on. I could even imagine it in that sleep-deprived haze—how it’d feel to learn the lines and bring that character to life, working with the intimacy coordinator to make the queer sex scenes realistic and affirming, drinking wine in the French Riviera on off days. If Maeve wasn’t in the picture, I would’ve been tempted.

But Maeve is here. Maeve, who’s become more of a sure thing in a few weeks than Hollywood has in over a year. I’m not gambling on that fantasy. So, here we go. With Luna’s advice hanging over me, I’m starting to get a migraine.

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