Behind the Scenes(10)

I just want to know why.

I turn the music down when I get to the Beverly Hills neighborhood. As I get closer to my destination, the houses become bigger and the cars parked on the streets nicer and nicer. I drive slowly past the address, taking note of the closed gate leading up to the two story white house.

I nibble my bottom lip, uncertain about whether to try the gate or not. Opting for the street, I park in a spot a couple houses down, then reach for my backpack and the manila folder on the seat.

My hand freezes. For the first time, I’ve noticed the name written on the front. John Murakami.

Dana said the script was going to a Murakami, but I hadn’t really put two and two together until now. My heart beats faster and I nervously clutch the envelope.

I wouldn’t say John Murakami is one of my absolute favorite directors, but I’ve seen all his films, and he’s pretty hot shit. Just the idea of talking to him makes me anxious.

I exhale heavily. “Okay. Just chill.”

Climbing out of the car, I straighten my posture and head down the sidewalk. Suddenly, the task I’ve been given seems incredibly important. What is this script Mr. Mulroney is sending John Murakami? Are they talking about producing a new film together?

There’s a smaller gate next to the driveway leading into a garden. I unlatch it and cross the threshold. The yard is simple, with lots of bright green grass and a stone walkway leading straight across it. Smoothing my hair, I head for the front door.

The second I ring the doorbell, dogs begin barking from somewhere deep in the innards of the house. A female voice shushes them, and then the door opens.

A small woman with tan skin and brown hair looks at me expectantly. “Yes? Hello.”

“Hi,” I say, smiling brightly. “I’m from Mr. Simon Mulroney’s office. I’m dropping a script off for Mr. Murakami.”

“Oh.” She humorously taps the side of her head. “I forgot that was being delivered. Come right in.”

She ushers me into the foyer. In a doorway to the dining room, two large golden retrievers sit, wagging their tails excitedly.

“Stay,” the woman commands them before turning to me. “This way, honey. Come into the kitchen.”

“Okay,” I say, drawing out the word.

Being invited in was something I did not expect. Surreptitiously taking in the surroundings, I follow the lady down the hallway and into a kitchen overlooking the backyard.

“I’m Marie,” she says, going to the stove. “John’s wife. Have a seat. I’ll make some tea.”

“Thanks.” I drop my backpack on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island and sit down next to it. “I’m Sydney.”

“Sydney,” she coos, sliding the name over her tongue. “That’s pretty. Are you a student?”

“I just graduated.”

“Oh.” She fills up a tea kettle and sets it on the stove, then turns to me. The smile on her face is odd, but not easily placed. Is it… strained? Sympathetic? “And how do you like working at Mulroney Pictures?” She crinkles her nose as if she smells something bad.

I hold back a laugh. So apparently Simon Mulroney’s reputation can’t be understated enough. “This is my third day, but I like it very much.” I smile back at her.

Marie cocks her head. “Well good. That’s nice to hear. You’re such a trooper.” She turns again, busying herself with gathering mugs and tea bags.

“Is Mr. Murakami around?” I casually ask, setting the envelope down on the counter.

“He won’t be back until this afternoon.” The tea kettle whistles and she pours the water before setting a cup down in front of me.

“Thank you.” I don’t drink much tea, but the warmth of it is comforting, even as hot as the day is. I wrap my hands around the mug and desperately try to think of something to say next.

Marie blows on her tea and leans against the counter. “John’s done two pictures with the company since Simon took over.”

“Oh,” I say, nodding to the kind woman. “Cool.”

“Do you want my advice?”

“Um, okay.”

Her face is carefully blank. “Watch yourself around him.”

You don’t have to tell me.

However, I’m eager to know whatever Marie does. “Regarding what, exactly?” I ask.

Marie’s laugh is as dry as the desert. “Everything. Here’s the thing about your new boss. He’s not trying to be a bad guy; he just doesn’t know quite how to be a good one.”

Now I’m intrigued. “You think?”

“It’s not a surprise, of course. With his past and everything, you can’t expect much more.”