Page 194 of Torrid Passion
She nods. It’s more out of resignation than conviction.
“So, where are we at in your script?” I ask changing the subject.
There’s no point in harping on what we can’t control. It only gets her spirits down.
“Like I was saying, I got over a huge hurdle.”
Despite the fact I’m not physically at the studio, I still have to carry my share of the workload and responsibilities. Therefore, while I play remote-CEO, Kyla has been diligently hammering at a script she started while I was in London four weeks ago. Every night at the end of the day, she gives me the rundown of where she’s at. Since she was spending so much time helping Hayden and Stella with their business, she had little time to devote to her writing. Now she can. I’m impressed with her progress. She may not see it, but I do. It’s in her blood. Every time she opens her mouth to talk about the script, a flood of passion pours out. She loves what she does.
“Tell me more,” I encourage.
“Remember how I was stuck with the scene with Nora and Regan, two of the secondary characters?”
“Yeah.”
Already her mood has lightened up.
“I just didn’t know how they were going to meet.”
“And?”
“Okay, so Nora is Margot’s best friend, right?”
“Yup.”
Margot and Dylan are the two main characters. She has a slew of secondary characters she’s been developing. Hint, the script might involve a scene that resembles the night that never happened with Grant, aka Mr. Pussy. But you didn’t hear it from me.
“Having two people meet at a bar is predictable. Since the story is set in LA, I wanted something you can’t get anywhere else––”
Her eyes drop to her phone then bounce up to mine. They’re so wide, they take over her face.
“What?” I ask.
Already, I’m on edge.
“I barely dipped my lips in the martini glass, so I know I’m not drunk, but I swear to God, I just saw Isobel Wolfe’s name flash in a message.”
I laugh, relief washing over me. “Well, read the message to find out.”
“Oh, my God, how did she get my number?” She actually leans into the table and whispers.
“I don’t know,” I play dumb.
She frowns at me. “Lochlan Berkshire, are you behind this?”
“Behind what?”
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
“Why would Isobel Wolfe contact me?” she asks.
“Doesn’t her husband co-own UTV.com, aka one of the most cutting edge subscription-based streaming services in the world? And aren’t you dying to pitch one of your script ideas to them… perhaps the one you’re working on now? I swear you must’ve mentioned it at least once a day since we’ve been on this island,” I grin.
She has.
Every day it’s,‘This was made for UTV.com, Loki,’and‘This show will become a smash hit series’,or‘UTV.com needs this show as part of their line-up before Netflix makes me an offer I can’t refuse.’
I decided to nudge UTV.com.
