Page 68 of A Spy is Born
Mary’s lips press tight, and she nods once before crossing the room and pouring herself a coffee from a silver carafe. She holds it up, offering me a cup. I shake my head. "Just water please." She pulls a chilled bottle from the mini-fridge. Bringing it over, she puts it in my hands and smiles. Herbe bravesmile. "We'll get through this,” she promises me.
She has no idea.I give her back a smile that saysI'm glad you're with me.
"So you two have been dating?" she asks, her voice pitching up.
"Yes." There's no need to be shy about it; we've been photographed together numerous times.
"So this can affect you,” she says. "We have Jennifer on staff. But for crises like this I like to bring in some extra muscle. Do you know Damon Schwartz?”
"By reputation." He's the master at hiding or spinning the biggest scandals in Hollywood.
“Good.” Mary nods once. “I talked to him this morning, and he's willing to take you on. His fees are astronomical, but he's amazing. These accusations could screw everything up——turn you into tabloid fodder as the wronged woman. We need to get out in front of it."
I don't have time for that.I've got to meet Temperance. "Mary, listen."
She interrupts me. "No, you need to listen to me. Damon's coming in after your meeting with Troy, and we're formulating a plan. It's what's happening."
Mary crosses to her office door and opens it, waiting for me. We're headed into the meeting with my new director. Right now I'm not fleeing or fighting. I'm getting ready to create.
Troy Woods isthin on the verge of emaciated. The bones of his wrists are clearly visible when he reaches out to shake my hand, and his fingers feel like sticks in my grip. The Oscar-winning director smiles at me, the skin around his eyes crinkling. He's in his late forties and has spent the last decade making hit movies and apparently not eating.
"Pleasure to meet you." He's nodding and smiling as he releases my hand, his straw blond hair bouncing around his face, reminding me of a friendly scarecrow.
"I am so honored,” I gush. "It's a dream to work with you."
He waves his hand as if trying to bat away the compliment. “I’m excited to work with you too but, please, let's not turn this into too much of a love fest." He laughs. Mary and I laugh with him.
Troy moves toward the conference table, taking control of the room and the meeting. Mary moves to follow us, and he catches her eye, cocking his head slightly.He wants us to be alone.Mary nods and excuses herself, the door whispering closed behind her.
"I am so excited to get started,” Troy says, motioning toward the table. There are two scripts waiting, and I feel a thrill run through me.
Usually they send the script over early—in most cases I’d read it before accepting a role. But this is theStar Warsfranchise and Troy Woods, so this is my first chance to see it. I ease into a chair, pulling the manuscript toward me.
"I've been working on it, and I think it's really good,” Troy says, taking the seat catty-cornered to mine. He's got a nervous energy to him, as if there's a vortex of creativity swirling around inside his chest trying to burst out.
"I'm sure it's excellent." I go to open it, and he puts his hand on the cover, stilling me.
"I'm sorry. But can you just wait a minute?” I look up at him. Troy takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. "There is a method to my madness. I swear." He gives a self-deprecating laugh.
"Sure." I take my hands off the manuscript and fold them in my lap to keep from grabbing at it.
"I want us to get to know each other a little bit first." His eyes meet mine. "And then I want to talk about who your character is and how I see her for this film."
That would all be easier if I could read the script.But I just nod and smile.
Troy sits back in his chair and folds his hands over his thin chest. He's wearing a simple gold wedding band, scratched and patinaed. He and his wife have been together for twenty-five years—they are one of those famed Hollywood couples that have managed to make it. Does he cheat on her? Does he force actresses to give him head?
I try and push the idea out of my mind.Not every man is a predator.
"First, I want to get something really simple out of the way." He takes a deep breath. “Temperance."
I can feel the color draining from my face. My hands grip each other in my lap. "Temperance?" I stutter out.
"The name of your character,” he says.
I feel like I'm choking. "I'm sorry." I look down at my hands and then force my eyes up to meet his gaze. "I wasn't…Right, of course. I didn't realize that was her name." Color is rushing back to my cheeks—a blush, the type of which I have not suffered since middle school, is surging over me.
"That's fine, you haven't seen the script. Of course you don’t know her name." He sits forward quickly. "You've got a pretty terrible poker face."
