I smiled and turned back to my packing. I really hoped my time away would make him reconsider his crush. I jammed the last few items I thought I needed into the old suitcase, which was just about everything but the kitchen sink. I was the type of traveler who never knew what mood might strike my fancy, so I had a tendency to over pack. But now, I couldn’t get the zipper to close, so I had to reevaluate. When I opened the suitcase again, I discovered a wad of lacy underwear shoved into a corner.
“What’s this, Clara? A minute ago you were throwing this kind of thing out of my packing pile.” I held up a pink satin bra covered in sheer black lace.
“I changed my mind. Just in case you want to do a little side work while you’re there,” Clara said with a wink.
“I told you, it’s not like that,” I said, drawing out the last words, and wagging my head in her face, like, “duh.”
“Yeah, Chelsea isn't like that.”
I turned and looked at Zach. He was eyeing the pink bra with a strange mixture of longing and a frown on his face. I shoved the racy lingerie back into the suitcase and forced the zipper closed, hoping neither of them noticed, but they did. Clara laughed. Zach just glowered.
“Go, have fun, we’ll be here when you get back,” Clara said.
I clamped shut the lid of my laptop and shoved it inside my carry-on tote bag. Clara crushed me with a big hug as Zach grabbed my bulging suitcase. I followed Zach out the door with the picture of my new employer, the “silver fox,” burning an image in my mind. As I crossed the threshold, a twinge of doubt stung my gut. Clara had better not be right about all of this.
Chapter Three
Alex
“Just resend the pages from the last three scenes.”
I leaned back in the leather chair, crossing one leg over my knee. “We’ve got a team here ready to fix the ending. We’ll let you know when we’re ready to move forward,” I said as I tapped a finger on the dark, mahogany wood of the conference table.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. I swore I heard the director grind his teeth before he snapped, “You expect us to reshoot the entire ending? That’s months of scheduling, not to mention all the special effects editing. I have another commitment coming up.”
“Sorry. You’ll have to give it up. We can’t have the franchise die because of one film.”
I raised my eyebrows and turned my palms up to the team around the conference table. They all nodded in agreement as my father spoke up, “I’m sorry, Jim, but Alex is right. It’s just the way it has to be.”
“Henry, we go back a long way,” Jim said to my father. “You know how it is. If I’m not available for the start of the other project, then I’m out.”
“You heard him, Jim,” I said. “It’s just the way it has to be. The rocket has to miss, no matter how many storylines that unravels. Wait for our decisions, then get it done.”
I leaned forward, and pressed the button that ended the call. The small team around the conference table let out a collective sigh, everyone that was except for my father. He stood, straightened his perpetually perfect tie, and buttoned his suit jacket. I knew he was tallying the costs in his head.
“The story needs integrity in order for it to have a sequel,” I insisted. “The ending has to be changed, otherwise anything that comes after won’t make a bit of sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense to me is all this fuss over the ending. Don’t be so idealistic, Alex. The ending isn’t what people come to see. Our viewers are in it for the experience, and that’s what’ll keep them coming back for more. I know what I’m talking about. In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been making hits for years.”
My father, Henry James Silverhaus, was the head of Silver House Productions, and he prided himself on his business acuity. The films he made were about the money. An emigrant from Holland with nothing in his pocket, my father had taught himself exactly what audiences wanted, and he delivered it without apology. Lack of content, character, or cohesiveness never bothered him, because Silver House Productions created blockbusters. Details didn’t stack up next to the ‘wow’ factor he always put first. It was what made him such a wild success.
I stood as the other team members gathered up the various laptops, tablets and smartphones they used in business meetings. My father used nothing to take notes except an occasional small calendar/planner he kept in his inside suit jacket pocket. He believed in keeping his creative mind unencumbered with too much organization, lest it put a damper on his next big idea.