Page 3 of Love Unscripted
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Aaron had been having the same argument with Ray for forty-five minutes, and it had gone nowhere.
Ray stood near the window of the production office, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, phone face down on the table as if daring it to ring. Aaron sat opposite him, rigid, arms crossed, jaw set so tight it ached.
It was now eight days after the audition with Camille Carlucci. They had held auditions with countless other actresses eager for an opportunity to play Esther, but no matter how pretty, or how talented, or how famous, or how Christian, Ray was not impressed or interested. For him there was only one woman who could play Esther.
“It’s Camille Carlucci,” Ray said again, measured but relentless. “She’s the answer to every problem this project has.”
Aaron exhaled sharply. “She’s the beginning of several.”
Ray turned, resting a hip against the desk. “Let’s be clear about what we’re arguing. I’m not talking about vibes or instincts. I’m talking about facts.”
He ticked them off on his fingers. “She has star power. That’s not a theory. It’s a fact. The woman pulls audiences, and that reassures the studio. Second, she can act. She’s got awards, nominations, critical acclaim. No one disputes that. Third—” His mouth curved slightly, unapologetic. “—she looks the part. Esther was chosen because she was beautiful. Camille sells that without effort.”
Aaron leaned forward. “Esther was chosen for more than her face.”
“And Camille can convey more than her face,” Ray shot back. “That’s my point.”
Aaron opened his mouth, closed it, then asked, “What about her salary? I hear that presently she’s worth something like ten million per movie. Can we afford that?”
Ray smiled, his light blue eyes lighting up. “I spoke with her agent, Liv West. Liv says that Camille is willing to take less money than she’s used to.”
“You aren’t the least suspicious about that?”
“No, I’m not. What exactly is your problem, Aaron? After that audition even you admitted that she was great. Now you’re backpedaling. What’s going on?”
Aaron didn’t respond immediately. He reflected that while he had agreed that Camille was great, he had felt an uneasiness—quiet at first, but persistent. It had sharpened a few nights later when he was flipping channels. There she was—this hypnotically beautiful woman, commanding a fantasy series with elaborate cinematography, political intrigue, moral ambiguity, violence… and moral darkness. He knew the narrative: she’d left the show because she had become a Christian. Yet, he wasn’t sure that was the real reason. What about the rumors about the relationship with her married producer? The relationship that, according to the rumor mills, had for some reason gone south. Some people were saying that was the real reason she walked out on the show.
“Why does she want to do this film, Ray? This is not a Hollywood blockbuster.”
Ray folded his arms. “She’s stepping away from secular roles. She wants to do faith-based work.”
“So she says,” Aaron said.
Ray’s gaze sharpened. “Yeah. So? You think she’s lying?”
“I think,” Aaron said carefully, “that people rarely abandon multimillion-dollar contracts for purely spiritual reasons.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” Ray shot back.
Aaron knew that Ray was referring to how he had walked away fromJohn Gray. He knew it had been surprising to many—in fact he had been called foolish for walking away. The film had done so well at the box office the studio had offered him a contract for two more in the series. But by that time, he had found God—or maybe it was truer to say that God had found him—and even though the figures they were throwing around tempted him, the conviction he felt to honor God with his film choices had been stronger.
“She’s not me. And there weren’t serious consequences for me walking away.”
Ray’s expression hardened. “You’re referring to the lawsuit.”
“I am,” Aaron said. “She walked off a show mid-season and now the producer is threatening to sue her into the ground. That’s not a small thing, Ray. That’s publicity we don’t need. It raises questions about her dependability. What’s going to stop her from walking away from this role if something happens she doesn’t like.”
“That’s crazy, Aaron. She walked away fromShadow Peakbecause she found God. And actually, what you just said makes her claim more compelling than ever. Why would you walk away from a show paying millions—where they are threatening to sue you—if it wasn’t because of moral convictions?” Ray asked.
Aaron had to admit that he had a point. Yet he wasn’t willing to concede his feeling that while faith was part of her walking away, it wasn’t the entire story.
Silence settled between them, dense and uncomfortable.
Ray pushed off the desk. “Even if you’re right—and that’s a big if—it doesn’t change the reality. The studio is already nervous. You’re an excellent director, Aaron, but you’re not yet a guarantee. They want insurance. Camille is insurance.”
“So we compromise the integrity of the film to appease the studio?”
