‘Edgy.’
‘Yeah, edgy.’
‘But commercial,’ the other provided.
‘Oh yeah, gotta be commercial.’
‘And funny,’ the first one supplied.
‘Funny is good. We like funny. So pitch it to me,’ he suddenly ordered Emily.
‘Sure.’ She smiled around the table, shook back her hair and started. ‘I’m thinking Thelma and Louise meets Snatch meets…’
To my horror, you could actually hear how dry her mouth was. Every word was accompanied by a type of clicking noise as she unpeeled her tongue from her hard palate.
Fli slid a glass of water towards her.
‘Water,’ Emily explained, with a goofy grin, before taking a quick gulp from it. Then, to my giddy relief, the velcroey sounds stopped and suddenly she was like a hare let out of a trap.
All the practice had been worth it. She did her ‘twenty-five words or less’ summary. Then she did a longer description of everything that happens, and even though I’d heard it all before, she was so good that for a moment or two I almost forgot where I was and nearly enjoyed myself.
She finished by saying, ‘It’s going to make a great movie!’
‘All right!’
They all clapped and I wondered if I should join in or whether it would be seen as applauding myself, but they’d finished before I could decide.
Then Mort spoke, and I could hardly believe the words that came out of his mouth. ‘I see this as a big, BIG movie.’
A thrill flamed through my entire body and I shot the fastest look at Emily. Her smile was restrained.
Above his head, Mort made a screen shape with his hands and we all obediently looked up at it. ‘Big budget, big stars. Seventy million dollars, minimum. I see Julia Roberts and Cameron Diaz. Am I right?’
The others all nodded enthusiastically, so I did too.
‘Who’re we gonna get to direct our movie?’ Mort asked the lads.
They named a couple of Oscar winners. Then came talk of fast-tracking it, green-lighting it, opening on three thousand screens across the country. It was the most exhilarating thing that had ever happened to me. Then we were shaking hands and Mort was promising that he was looking forward to working with me.
As Emily and I walked back down the hall, I literally couldn’t feel my feet.
Another flurry of goodbyes in reception, then we were walking away. Aware of their eyes on our backs, neither of us said anything. I was shaking with unexpressed elation. Still in silence, we got into the car, where Emily lit a cigarette and sucked at it, like it was a thick milkshake coming through a narrow straw.
‘Well?’ I eventually said, and waited for the pair of us to SCREECH and hug with excitement. ‘Well,’ she said, consideringly.
‘But that was fantastic! You heard the man! Julia Roberts! Cameron Diaz! Three thousand screens!’
‘Don’t forget, Maggie, that I’ve been here before.’
I thought she was being very negative and told her. ‘So now what happens?’
‘Now we wait.’
‘Now we wait,’ I repeated, feeling cheated and resentful.
‘Mind you,’ she conceded, ‘we could get drunk while we’re doing it.’
18
An impromptu party was what was called for, Emily decided. She spent the drive home with her phone clamped between her shoulder and ear, inviting people over. ‘I don’t know if we’re celebrating,’ she kept saying. ‘But we’re definitely partying.’
Lara was under instructions to come round at six, to accompany Emily to the Liquor Locker to buy up the place. Every time I saw Emily spending money, I got a pang of anxiety, but this time for once felt no worry. The good times they were a-coming.
We were home by five-thirty. As I hung up Lara’s suit, I asked Emily if tonight’s do would be a dress and heels affair.
‘Christ, no. Shorts and bare feet.’
Shorts and bare feet it was. While she waited for Lara, Emily tapped and fidgeted distractedly. Then her face fixed on a thought.
‘Look,’ she said defensively. ‘There’s something I want to do. Don’t laugh, but will you run in to Mike and tell him to come with his smudge stick?’
‘I won’t laugh,’ I assured her earnestly, ‘because I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’
‘Mike, next door – beardy New Ager?’
‘Oh, Bill Bryson? Go on.’
‘He’s always offering to banish the negative energy in here. It’s called smudging. I just feel that maybe I’d have a better chance of getting good news if the house was full of positive vibes.’
I didn’t laugh. Instead I felt the full force of her terror. She must be out of her mind with worry to contemplate doing something she had such contempt for.
‘Will you go?’
I was happy to. Constant activity was keeping me one step ahead of myself. Sooner or later, I knew the bubble would burst and I’d be flung down hard against the ground. But not just yet. So out I went and rang next-door’s bell, but no one came. I rang again, and still the door remained unanswered. Then I gave the large wind-chime which hung in the porch a smack, setting off a mad tinny jingling, but that got no response either. At this stage any sensible person would have given up, but the thing was I knew he was there. I knew he was there because I could see him. There was a big pane of glass in the front door, through which he was clearly visible, sitting on a floor cushion, making ‘O’ shapes with his thumbs and middle fingers. I’d just decided to leave and promise Emily I’d get him for her another time when I saw him get to his feet and amble to the door.
‘Hi,’ he smiled. ‘I was finishing a meditation. Come in.’
To my surprise there was no flurry of ‘Sorry to keep you waiting’s. Maybe spiritual people don’t apologize.
I stepped into the dim room, to be hit by a sweet smell. Rose oil? Or lavender? How would I know? In the background I could hear the plinking of more wind-chimes. From somewhere else came the rush of running water, which in any other house I’d assume was from a burst pipe – but, somehow, not here.
Dreamcatchers dangled from the windows, embroidered throws decorated the chairs, and wooden carvings – mostly of men with bulging eyes and disproportionately large penises hung on the walls. Every object looked like it meant something, and from the odd placing of the furniture I was prepared to bet that the place had been Feng Shuied to within an inch of its life.
‘Yeah, edgy.’
‘But commercial,’ the other provided.
‘Oh yeah, gotta be commercial.’
‘And funny,’ the first one supplied.
‘Funny is good. We like funny. So pitch it to me,’ he suddenly ordered Emily.
‘Sure.’ She smiled around the table, shook back her hair and started. ‘I’m thinking Thelma and Louise meets Snatch meets…’
To my horror, you could actually hear how dry her mouth was. Every word was accompanied by a type of clicking noise as she unpeeled her tongue from her hard palate.
Fli slid a glass of water towards her.
‘Water,’ Emily explained, with a goofy grin, before taking a quick gulp from it. Then, to my giddy relief, the velcroey sounds stopped and suddenly she was like a hare let out of a trap.
All the practice had been worth it. She did her ‘twenty-five words or less’ summary. Then she did a longer description of everything that happens, and even though I’d heard it all before, she was so good that for a moment or two I almost forgot where I was and nearly enjoyed myself.
She finished by saying, ‘It’s going to make a great movie!’
‘All right!’
They all clapped and I wondered if I should join in or whether it would be seen as applauding myself, but they’d finished before I could decide.
Then Mort spoke, and I could hardly believe the words that came out of his mouth. ‘I see this as a big, BIG movie.’
A thrill flamed through my entire body and I shot the fastest look at Emily. Her smile was restrained.
Above his head, Mort made a screen shape with his hands and we all obediently looked up at it. ‘Big budget, big stars. Seventy million dollars, minimum. I see Julia Roberts and Cameron Diaz. Am I right?’
The others all nodded enthusiastically, so I did too.
‘Who’re we gonna get to direct our movie?’ Mort asked the lads.
They named a couple of Oscar winners. Then came talk of fast-tracking it, green-lighting it, opening on three thousand screens across the country. It was the most exhilarating thing that had ever happened to me. Then we were shaking hands and Mort was promising that he was looking forward to working with me.
As Emily and I walked back down the hall, I literally couldn’t feel my feet.
Another flurry of goodbyes in reception, then we were walking away. Aware of their eyes on our backs, neither of us said anything. I was shaking with unexpressed elation. Still in silence, we got into the car, where Emily lit a cigarette and sucked at it, like it was a thick milkshake coming through a narrow straw.
‘Well?’ I eventually said, and waited for the pair of us to SCREECH and hug with excitement. ‘Well,’ she said, consideringly.
‘But that was fantastic! You heard the man! Julia Roberts! Cameron Diaz! Three thousand screens!’
‘Don’t forget, Maggie, that I’ve been here before.’
I thought she was being very negative and told her. ‘So now what happens?’
‘Now we wait.’
‘Now we wait,’ I repeated, feeling cheated and resentful.
‘Mind you,’ she conceded, ‘we could get drunk while we’re doing it.’
18
An impromptu party was what was called for, Emily decided. She spent the drive home with her phone clamped between her shoulder and ear, inviting people over. ‘I don’t know if we’re celebrating,’ she kept saying. ‘But we’re definitely partying.’
Lara was under instructions to come round at six, to accompany Emily to the Liquor Locker to buy up the place. Every time I saw Emily spending money, I got a pang of anxiety, but this time for once felt no worry. The good times they were a-coming.
We were home by five-thirty. As I hung up Lara’s suit, I asked Emily if tonight’s do would be a dress and heels affair.
‘Christ, no. Shorts and bare feet.’
Shorts and bare feet it was. While she waited for Lara, Emily tapped and fidgeted distractedly. Then her face fixed on a thought.
‘Look,’ she said defensively. ‘There’s something I want to do. Don’t laugh, but will you run in to Mike and tell him to come with his smudge stick?’
‘I won’t laugh,’ I assured her earnestly, ‘because I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’
‘Mike, next door – beardy New Ager?’
‘Oh, Bill Bryson? Go on.’
‘He’s always offering to banish the negative energy in here. It’s called smudging. I just feel that maybe I’d have a better chance of getting good news if the house was full of positive vibes.’
I didn’t laugh. Instead I felt the full force of her terror. She must be out of her mind with worry to contemplate doing something she had such contempt for.
‘Will you go?’
I was happy to. Constant activity was keeping me one step ahead of myself. Sooner or later, I knew the bubble would burst and I’d be flung down hard against the ground. But not just yet. So out I went and rang next-door’s bell, but no one came. I rang again, and still the door remained unanswered. Then I gave the large wind-chime which hung in the porch a smack, setting off a mad tinny jingling, but that got no response either. At this stage any sensible person would have given up, but the thing was I knew he was there. I knew he was there because I could see him. There was a big pane of glass in the front door, through which he was clearly visible, sitting on a floor cushion, making ‘O’ shapes with his thumbs and middle fingers. I’d just decided to leave and promise Emily I’d get him for her another time when I saw him get to his feet and amble to the door.
‘Hi,’ he smiled. ‘I was finishing a meditation. Come in.’
To my surprise there was no flurry of ‘Sorry to keep you waiting’s. Maybe spiritual people don’t apologize.
I stepped into the dim room, to be hit by a sweet smell. Rose oil? Or lavender? How would I know? In the background I could hear the plinking of more wind-chimes. From somewhere else came the rush of running water, which in any other house I’d assume was from a burst pipe – but, somehow, not here.
Dreamcatchers dangled from the windows, embroidered throws decorated the chairs, and wooden carvings – mostly of men with bulging eyes and disproportionately large penises hung on the walls. Every object looked like it meant something, and from the odd placing of the furniture I was prepared to bet that the place had been Feng Shuied to within an inch of its life.
