Page 86 of Made for You
“To be honest, nothing,” I say. “Unless you have a cure for cancer?”
Ally makes a pained face. “Sorry, I don’t have that. But seriously—name your price. I can’t guarantee anything, of course, but at least give me something to work with. A number to shoot for. I’m dying to do this project with you. Dying.”
That, I got. I’m very aware of how lucrative the documentary would be for Netflix. And the truth is, we could use the money. For a crazy second, I consider saying yes, right here in the bakery parking lot, with Josh just feet away. It would probably take care of all Rita’s medical bills. Then I imagine cameras in the house. Production schedules and interviews. While Rita is dying. While I’m having a baby.
“Can I be honest with you?” I say, pushing my sunglasses on top of my head so that Ally and I are eye to eye.
“Of course.”
“I do need the money. But family comes first, and right now, my family needs space. We have a lot of change coming, and I can’t in good conscience add another stressor to our lives.” I shrug. “I’d say call me later, but with Josh’s mom sick...”
Ally is taking it in stride. She flashes me a big smile. “Listen, Julia. I’m going to keep calling you, because that’s what I do, and I’m still really hoping that one day you’ll say yes, because you have a fascinating story and it truly deserves to be told. But I very much respect your decision. I promise not to harass you for at least a few months.”
“I may never want to do it. I’ve kind of had my fill of cameras.”
Ally raises an eyebrow toward the film crew, which is closing up the back of the van, as if to point out that I invited these guys in, so why not her?
“Temporary compromise,” I say, sliding my sunglasses back down.
Josh has rolled down the window and is patting the side of the vehicle, clearly impatient. I give him the one-minute signal.
“Keep me in mind is all I ask,” says Ally.
“Nice talking to you.” I extend a hand, which she shakes.
The brief temptation of the money is fully extinguished as I walk away from her, my hair fluttering in the breeze. Josh wanted his little slice of the American Dream. A house, a yard, a little family in a nest. That dream drew us together, and even though we haven’t exactly achieved it yet, no part of that dream included a long-term film crew.
Not even the money is motivation enough to invite that kind of fresh invasion into the lives we haven’t even had a chance to build.
NOW
After hanging up with Christi, I look at the phone in my lap. Obviously, I can’t just call Andy or Eden and ask for the truth. What I need is a third party. Someone impartial. Someone who can dig shit up.
“Ready for a sandwich?” Bob calls up. The stairs creak under his tread.
“One more minute!” I call out. There’s a short silence, then the creak of his descent.
I have the feeling of stacking the deck for myself in these precious few moments in Bob’s house. These are the crucial minutes of preparation that could make me or break me once I leave here.
I reference my handwritten contact list and thank my lucky stars I included Ally Buoncore. As a documentary producer, she should have no problem doing some simple research—especially if I dangle the prize.
“Hello, this is Ally,” she says after the third ring, in the same breathless voice she’s used on the dozen voicemails she’s left over the past year.
“Hi! This is Julia.” There’s a brief silence. “Walden.”
“Oh my God. Julia. I can’t believe—I’ve been watching the news and—”
“That’s actually why I’m calling. Listen. I know I’ve been putting you off about the documentary—but I’m having a change of heart. I think maybe this is the time.”
“Oh?” Her surprise is tempered with the slightest whiff of caution.
“I just need something from you first.”
“Anything!” She laughs, then adds, “Within reason, of course.”
“Is information on Andy Wekstein and Eden Jeliazkova within reason?”
She pauses. “Um...what kind of information are we talking about?”