I look from the muted television to my box of children’s cereal.
“Oh, just doing a little work.”
“What on?”
“Uh, a spec script.”
“Rom-com?”
“Yep.”
“Sounds like you have some time on your hands.”
Ah. We’ve reached the part about my wasted potential earlier than expected. I don’t know why I initiate these calls, other than that if I didn’t, I’d be fatherless. It’s strange how you can crave the attention of the people with the most power to hurt you.
“Well, yeah, things are slow here, obviously,” I say. “Production being shut down. I’d think the Mack Fontaine stuff is on hold too, no?”
“Eh. I’m not worried. The latest one is already in post.”
“That’s lucky.”
Never put it past my father to be unscathed by a global economic shutdown.
“That’s why I’m calling, actually,” he says. “We’re in development forBusted,and we just fired the writers.”
Bustedis one of my dad’s most popular novels. The plot is about a model who hires Mack Fontaine to expose a corrupt plastic surgeon after he botches her boob job. Obviously, because no one can resist Mack, she also has a torrid affair with him.
“That’s too bad,” I say, unsure what this might have to do with me.
“They weren’t nailing Diane,” he says, referring to the character with theleaking implants. “My producer thinks we need a woman to write it. Make it sexier.”
I wish I could tell you this is the first time my father has referred to his work as sexy.
“That makes sense,” I say. “It might be a nice change of pace. You don’t see a lot of female-written action movies.”
“Yeah, well, I thought maybe you’d want to throw your hat in the ring, since you love the book.”
I do not love the book. I will allow that my father’s novels have a lurid appeal, but they are decidedly not for me. Of course, I would never say that to him. He assumes I think he’s a genius. He assumes that of everyone.
This does not change the fact that I’m stunned. He has always dismissed my work. I assumed he thought I was a bad writer.
“Wow,” I say, unable to help myself. “That’s… thanks for thinking of me, Dad. That could be really cool.”
“Well, never say you didn’t follow in my footsteps for nothing.”
“What would you need from me to pitch?”
“A treatment, to start.”
“Yeah. Okay. No problem. When do you need it?”
“No rush. Things aren’t moving quickly, with the virus. We’re still talking to directors.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll get started right away. I’m excited.”
His wife calls his name, and the phone goes muffled for a second.
“Gotta go, kid. Tennis.”
