The Reunion by Kayla Olson(59)
“As you’d expect.”
I take a long pull on my coffee. None of this bodes particularly well. I especially don’t like the implication that I should give up the chance to star in a potentially award-winning film for the reboot when I wouldn’t even be its main focus. I hadn’t realized how much I was starting to come around to the idea of doing a huge production like Girl again—the reunion has been a good experience so far, and under the right circumstances, the reboot could be amazing.
These are not the right circumstances.
“This might be hard for you to hear, Liv, but I honestly think we might want to consider passing on the project. Hear me out—they know you’re in high demand elsewhere, and they’re trying to manipulate you into a suboptimal commitment because they know you’re emotionally invested in the show, what it’s meant for you. Fanline has the resources to pay Millie and Sasha-Kate more, as much as you would have earned as the sole lead—they’re about to close on an acquisition of CMC/Snapaday, but you didn’t hear that from me. But because of the merger, they’re trying to cut corners where they can and pass it all off as a decision to go in a fresh direction creatively.”
“Even Shine is on board with what’s going on?” I ask.
Shine Jacobs built Fanline’s empire out of nothing all on her own and has given countless commencement speeches and keynotes about her commitment to empowering women.
So much for empowerment: I feel powerless. Like Fanline is convinced I would never say no after all the show has done for me. After all I’ve done for the show, though, the way they’re trying to pin me down—while at the same time diminishing my role—makes me feel entirely taken for granted.
The coffee suddenly feels too sour in my stomach, the taste too bitter.
Mars sighs. “Unfortunately, when a company becomes a monolith like Fanline has, not even its founder has the final say on every issue, especially once the investors get involved. It’s difficult in this case because Shine is actually fully in favor of the fresh creative direction—which is a hurdle of its own for us. She insists she’s not done with the financial conversation, but as it stands now, she’s been backed into a corner with the shareholder votes and a handful of issues that have more to do with the merger itself than the show.”
“This is a lot to take in at ten in the morning,” I say, an understatement. I have to leave for the studio in an hour—I wish I had the entire day off to process.
“Take your time, sit with it for a bit.”
I hear a clinking noise through the phone, imagine her stirring a glug of cream into a fresh cup of coffee; who knows how long she’s already been up this morning, dealing with this.
“I know there’s a lot wrapped up in the idea of walking away—but there’s also a lot for you to walk toward, Liv. I’ll support you in whatever you decide, but I would be doing you a disservice if I didn’t give you my honest gut feeling, okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Mars.”
It’s one thing to think theoretically about walking away—but now that it’s a real decision I have to make, I feel a little sick.
“I’ll check back with you about it,” she says. “Don’t talk about what’s going on with anyone until we settle on a decision, not even Bre or Attica.”
Not even Bre or Attica: this is the moment it hits me how big the implications would be if I were to say no—I can’t let on to anyone, not even to the rest of my team, that I’m considering walking away from Girl. It’s too late to keep it from Ransom, thanks to our conversation last night at his place, but hopefully he knows better than to mention it. If there’s a chance I want to stay, despite everything, we can’t take any risks with it getting back to Fanline. This has the power to cause significant rifts.
After we end the call, I stare out at the water for longer than I really have time for, turning the decision over and over in my head. It stings a bit to know they want to shift the focus away from Honor, but at the same time, they’ve told her story, and—thanks to our new reunion episode—she and Duke will finally have the happily ever after the world has been begging for. It makes sense to explore the other sisters; I get it.
What bothers me more is the way they’re going about trying to make it happen—betting hard that I’m too attached to the show that launched me to superstardom, too emotionally indebted, to even consider walking away. It isn’t right. They’re expecting me to make big decisions with my heart instead of my head.
The line where sea meets sky blurs. Walking away would affect more than just me; all my worries from last night start to resurface. Would Ransom have a part in the show if I wasn’t in it? Would there still be a show at all? Would the fandom support my work on other films, or would they turn on me for ruining a thing they love? I think of those friendship bracelets on my nightstand, of the people who sent them. It’s so much more than a show for so many people, and the show is so much more than just me.
Right now, it feels like I alone have the power to ruin it.
My phone vibrates, startling me out of thought: James Robertson will arrive at 11:03 am, it says, the automatic notification alert from the GPS in Jimmy’s Mercedes. That’s only fifteen minutes away, I realize with a panic. I’m still in pajamas—I somehow haven’t even eaten breakfast.