Page 80 of Take 2
“Weirdest Oscars ever,” Stephen predicts as he takes his drink.
“Can’t be more awkward than Anne Hathaway and James Franco were eight years ago.” My comment should trigger sweaty palms, but I’m almost okay. I can think about that show without dwelling on the memory of watching it with Ryan and his family.
“I thought they were precious,” Cece says.
“All of Hollywood wishes everyone was as easy to please as you.”
She twists a lock of her hair around a finger. “No, all of Hollywood wishes they were as gorgeous as you.”
A flirty twirl flares the layers of rose-pink skirt around my legs, and she fails at a wolf whistle in the cutest way.
“You approve?” James asks.
“I do,” Cece says with business meeting-like hand gestures, “but if she goes next year I need to consult. FaceTime me for the shopping.”
“Deal.” He shakes her hand.
I should tell them we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. I should tell them it is bad luck to talk about it like it’ll happen. But hell, if I haven’t worked my ass off to make it happen, and I like hearing people talk about it like it will.
My first movie experience was great, but this time Lisa got me more involved. I got to have a great relationship with casting, spent time on set and with the production team, and learned a ton about what it takes to turn words on the page into a film. It’s so beautiful I have to pinch myself every once in a while.
I may not be the kind of prodigy who wins an Oscar on his first go, like Preston Greene, but shit, getting my second screenplay nominated would be unreal.
“This year’s pick,” James says, gesturing to my dress, “was my attempt to make Oscar night sex a thing again.”
Stephen bites his lip. “That’s not going to happen.”
“So she says.” James sighs.
“Hey,” I say, “I did have sex in the past year. Just not gonna happen tonight.”
“How do you even have time?” Cece asks at the same time Stephen says, “You don’t go anywhere.”
I roll my eyes. “I can see there are some questions about my sex life. You may each have one.” I clasp my hands together like I’m holding a press conference. “Cece, go.”
She mimics holding a microphone. “Ms. Sheridan, do your lovers have to schedule time on your calendar?”
“Of course not. My calendar is booked solid. Sex has to be spur-of-the-moment to slip into my schedule—”
"That’s what she calls her vagina now,” James says, and I flick him off as I continue.
“And it steals time from something else.”
Cece arches an eyebrow. “Like work?”
“No. Work time cannot be sacrificed. It gets taken from scheduled sleep time. And that was two questions. Stephen?”
“Where do you even meet people?”
“My schedule has included several glamorous social-esque events for work. James?”
“Do you work on scripts during sex?”
“Only once. Thank you all for being here. That’s all the time we have today.” I curtsy and get some golf claps.
Cece pulls me down to the couch to sit with her. “Seriously, though. You’re going to work yourself to death.”
“I really love what I do. And you know I’ve always tried to do things faster than anyone else.”High school in three years. Undergrad in three and a half. Married only one year.
