Page 90 of Director's Cut
I smile, electric pride sparking in my chest. “No. I’ve also been teaching a couple of courses at USC. On music and movies, adjacent to my dissertation.”
“So, no one except for the students in your classes gets to see that side of you, Valeria the professor. When my producers and I were talking through discussion topics, we thought maybe it’d be fun to do something a little different and ask you to give a little intro lecture.”
I nod, my blood pumping. “Just for you.” I laugh a little. “Promise, it’ll come around to relate to Oakley in Flames.”
By the time I finish recording my mini lecture and the rest of the interview, it’s 3:00 p.m. in France. Maeve is probably still on her morning run. The timing isn’t exactly as romantic as I would’ve wanted, but time zones are a bitch. I sit outside a Cannes venue knowing Mason, other producers, and Important Hollywood People are waiting for me. But as I dial Maeve’s number, I’m hoping that she makes me very late for this party.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
“Hello?”
I heard her voice only a few days ago, but somehow she sounds softer. A subtle change that feels monumental now. She sounds softer, and I’m starting to wonder if she was always this soft-sounding and gentle and I let my anxiety fill in the gaps and turn her into something closer to Emily.
“Hey. Can you check your email when you get home? I made some filler for today’s class.”
“When did you make filler? What does that even mean?”
Her breath is quickening, and I assume she’s trying to get back to her apartment faster.
“I made an introduction for the lecture as part of this interview I did at Cannes. I know you love having an extra ten minutes to get psyched up, and I know today’s class is so important. Plus, the interviewer was nice.”
“Wait. You recorded for lecture at a Hollywood interview? Your people must be—”
I find myself chuckling. “Annoyed? Maybe, but who cares. You’re still my number one on your important day.”
“Jesus.” She pauses. “Is that what you called about? To tell me to queue a video five hours before class?”
I swallow, my throat suddenly thick. “No. I called because I know you like to be informed of things in advance. Charlie’s still ready to do the lecture, but he’s also on standby to head to Cannes.” I pause. “I can do the lecture here over Zoom. We had incredible feedback on this class last semester and it’s perfect to showcase you. I couldn’t miss being your supporting act. The switch might cost Goodbye, Richard! 2 a few financiers, but Mason tells me the movie will stand on its own if it’s meant to be made.”
“Wait, are you—?”
“Giving you the choice. Who you want to do the lecture with. Either option is cleared with Ashlee.”
Another pause. “Val…”
Val. Not Valeria.
It might be nothing, but it gives me the hope I need.
She sighs. “Yeah, I’d love to have you there.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I’m riding high after Maeve’s and my Zoom class—she absolutely killed it, and I know she’ll get this grant. I’m riding so high, in fact, that the party I attend that night as I track Charlie’s flight feels amazing. I even manage to charm and be charmed by some billionaire when he pauses the bullshit to tell me about his gay daughter and how much movies like this meant to her. Charlie, brave soldier he is, arrives at our hotel a little past noon on Friday, our premiere less than ten hours from then. I apologize to him for the crunch, but he shrugs it off and starts caffeinating.
And once Charlie is in France, everything becomes very real. I wish they’d given us more of a break before the screening, but at least I’m not having a panic attack when I walk into the theater where Oakley in Flames will make its world premiere at eight forty-five that night. I feel present. I can smell the expensive perfume and champagne and really soak it in—my movie got into a prestigious festival. It might get bought this week.
On top of it, I feel so me. My hair is looking tousled and bad boy, plus blonder because Charlie and I did the stupid lemon bleach on our tips when he was supposed to be taking a nap this afternoon. Combined with heavy makeup that emphasizes the angle of my cheekbones, dark rose lipstick that hugs the curves of my lips, and eclectic silver necklaces, bracelets, and rings accessorizing an otherwise figure-cutting black suit, I look incredible. Hell, with my lacy black bra in full view and my black pumps, I’ve never felt happier with a look nor looked hotter. It’s perfect.
And as much as I want to fixate on Maeve, on the fact that she didn’t say anything to me after the lecture, the fact that I don’t know if Ashlee and the department are going to give her that grant, I push it away. I push it away and head on to the red carpet alone. Take pictures alone. Ignore the questions about where my professor girlfriend is. It’s going to be okay.
One last breath and I step into the theater. I beeline right to Charlie, Mason, and my family, who are conveniently clustered in an area near the front of the stage where we’ll do a Q&A later. Mason stuns in a shiny silver suit, her black hair cut into a sharp bob. Charlie went for a standard black suit like me.
Gwyn springs into action first, pulling me into a hug before even Mason gets the chance. And Mason likes to hug.