The Break(31)

“We can have a code word for when you don’t feel well,” I say.

“A code word,” she says. “I like that.”

“Maybe gluten-free banana muffins,” I say.

Louisa laughs. “No way,” she says. “Because I eat those way too often. We’ll get mixed up.”

I laugh, too. “I should probably continue the honesty thing and tell you that I eat a lot of bread.”

She smiles, but then she goes quiet. “I went gluten-free because I read on this woman’s blog that it was the only thing that helped her get pregnant. I know that’s totally crazy. The woman wasn’t a doctor or anything.”

“But sometimes there’s true stuff on the internet among all the insanity,” I say.

“I think you’re right,” Louisa says, her smile back. She clears her throat, then twirls her pen. A slim gold band decorates her ring finger. “Let me tell you a little about this job,” she says. “That seems only fair, since I’ve told you everything else.” She waves a hand in front of her. “If you worked with me,” she says, “you’d work in a cubicle right outside my office. There are three assistants in that area—mine, another assistant for an agent named Roger Cleary, and then of course one for Harrison, whom you’ve already met. Some of the job is keeping me organized, but most of the job is answering phones and using your judgment to know which actor needs what from me at any given moment. You seem like you’re pretty emotionally intelligent, so I have a feeling you’re going to pick up on that quickly. Some of the job is knowing what’s most pressing at any given point. A producer who’s trying to get in touch with me about an actor of mine misbehaving on set is one thing, and very different from an actor who shows up on set high on a substance, which I would need to deal with right away. I don’t have many actors like that, actually, and my clients all have my cell, so you won’t be dealing with too many emergencies, because they usually just call me. Most of them think they’re my top priority—and in a way that’s true—so they’re not shy about calling my cell. But you’re my first line of defense a lot of the time, especially if I’m dealing with another client’s crisis or in a meeting and can’t answer my cell, and I’ll need you to use your judgment on when you should interrupt me in a meeting or on a call and when you shouldn’t. Oh, and every once in a while I get scripts to consider and I like a younger person’s opinion on them. Are you a reader?”

“I am,” I say, nodding vigorously. “Thrillers, mostly. Some rom-coms. Commercial fiction.” It’s the only area of my life where I’m book smart—literally. “I love to read, actually. Books and movies are my drug.” Maybe it’s a weird thing to say after what she just said about her actors. “And it’s my only drug,” I add firmly. I really can’t believe all the strange-but-true things I’m saying today.

“Good,” she says, smiling, and I smile, too. I feel okay with her. Even comfortable.

“Tell you what, June,” she says, all businesslike again. A phone rings in the hallway beyond the glass of the conference room, and someone laughs. “Why don’t we try this. Under one condition.”

“Anything,” I say, holding her gaze. I want this job so badly my blood has gone hot.



“At least in the beginning, I don’t want to talk about your acting career,” Louisa says. “Give me a few months to get to know you. I talk about acting careers all day long with my clients, and I really do need an assistant who can do this job well. But I like to see people succeed, too. In a few months from now let’s talk about where your career is, and where it could potentially go. Now of course, if you’re doing a performance somewhere, you should tell me and I’ll come see it. But first we work, and we work hard. The hours aren’t terrible. I’m usually in a little before nine, and I’m done by seven. But I’d like you to be here in the morning by eight thirty so you’re in before me. Sound all right so far?”

My heart thumps. “It sounds perfect,” I say.





THIRTEEN


Rowan. Thursday morning. November 10th.


The next morning I’m standing outside the oak doors of a townhouse on West Eleventh Street and thinking about how Sarah Jessica Parker lives right near here. Once I saw her watering the garden in front of her townhouse. I’ve always loved SJP and actresses from her generation; they’re the reason I write. My mom and I used to curl up with shows like Sex and the City and Ally McBeal and binge-watch them when I was in my teens. We loved TV and books—we loved stories. We loved my mom’s enormous king bed. I slept in it most nights and it was heaven.

The thing not everyone realizes is that writers should watch a lot of television and movies, because the art of story is laid out for you in bite-sized pieces: either a two-hour film or an hour drama usually gets the job done—beginning, middle, end. Watch the way it works:

Opening conflict. Introduce your characters.

Main character is actionable and drives the plot forward.

Obstacles galore. Emotional conflicts everywhere. Setbacks.

Twist—three or four, if you’ve got them.

All characters hurtle toward a boil, and then boom: unexpected consequences.