Page 13 of Second Act
Violet shook her head. “No, but there could be. All she does is try to survive and not let him kill her, once she knows what he’s done. I could add a love interest,” she said, thinking about it.
“You can add that later if you want to. You have all the strong points in the book.”
“I feel like I should be paying you, not you paying me to type my own book.” She smiled at him.
“I’ll bill the producer for it,” he teased her. Suddenly they were friends. They had a project that would save them both if they could find a producer and a screenwriter. The producer would do the rest, line up the director, the financing, and the actors. He already had some thoughts about who to call.
Violet looked at Andy gratefully as they sat in the library together.
“I think what they did to you was incredibly unfair, and how they did it,” she said softly.
“It was ugly,” he admitted, “but it’s the nature of the industry. Icame in on the heels of the previous CEO when AMCO bought the studio nineteen years ago. Now it’s someone else’s turn. I was the youngest studio head in the business. Now I’m old and I’m out. They flip it on a dime. The new owner’s son wanted my job, and he got it. They paid a small fortune for it. And who knows, maybe he’ll be good at it.”
“And what will you do?” she asked, worried about him. He had just offered to do so much for her, he had touched her deeply. No one had ever done anything for her before. She had been struggling alone for a long time. She no longer had a family to turn to. Her mother had died of cancer when she was in college, and her father of a heart attack a year later, brokenhearted after his wife’s death.
“I have no idea,” Andy said about his future. “That’s why I’m here. To figure it out. But for now, we’re going to try to get you off and running with your story. I’m going to make some calls tonight,” he promised. Violet could already sense that he was a man of his word, and she knew he would do what he said. And even if he changed his mind and didn’t do it, she would be no worse off than she’d been before. She was used to having people disappoint her and hurt her. Nothing surprised her anymore. That was what Andy saw in her eyes. He could see it in the way she looked at him. She had been wounded. She didn’t say it, but he knew. “Trust me, Violet. Something wonderful is going to happen. It may take time. Hollywood moves slowly sometimes, but they’re hungry for what you’ve got,” he said, pointing to the folder she’d brought him with the rest of her manuscript. He couldn’t wait to read it.
She stopped typing at five o’clock, and he looked at her after Mrs.MacInnes left. “Do you want to stay for something to eat? I don’t know what’s in the fridge. Probably half a lemon and a banger sandwich,” he said, and she laughed.
“Why don’t we go to the chippy in town? Do you like fish-and-chips?”
“I love it.” They sat and talked for a while longer about the development of her story and the last chapter she hadn’t finished yet, and at six o’clock, he put her bike in the Land Rover and drove her into town to the chippy at the end of the high street. It was exciting to be part of a project that wasn’t even born yet, with someone as new and fresh and talented as she was.
“Do you have family here, Violet?” he asked her. She seemed too sophisticated for this tiny village.
“No, I don’t have family anymore. My parents both died when I was in college. They weren’t very old. My mother died of breast cancer, and my father had a heart attack a year later and died too. I think he couldn’t live without her. They had a wonderful marriage.”
“So did mine,” Andy said nostalgically. “Where did you go to college?” It was on her CV, but he’d forgotten.
“I went to the University of Westminster and majored in journalism, and got my graduate degree in journalism from the London School of Economics. I grew up in London. And after LSE, I got the job atThe Sunday Times,and not long after, I got married and moved here.” She made it sound very simple and had an excellent education.
“And you don’t want to go back to London?”
“I might one day, but I can’t afford to right now. Life is much cheaper in a village like this.” She seemed resigned to her fate anddidn’t complain about it. But it was obvious to him that she didn’t belong there. She had been brought up and educated for a much bigger life.
“You’ll be able to move back after this,” Andy said confidently. “What have you been living on?” It was an impertinent question, but he felt protective of her, and she could sense it. The loss of her parents had touched him. And he could see how brave she was.
“Odd jobs. The bookshop. You, now. I take care of a few people’s summer cottages for them. They don’t come here in the winter, so I check on things, and have leaks repaired, and burst pipes. I get by.” Listening to Violet made him realize again how fortunate he was, how blessed he had been all his life, with parents who had provided for him and protected him, good jobs as a screenwriter, and then an extraordinary opportunity as a studio head for almost twenty years. He had never been in danger as she was, living hand to mouth, with no family and no one to protect her or be a safety net for her.
“Do you have children?” she asked him, as they ate their shared dinner out of little cardboard boxes.
“One. A daughter. She’s happily married with two very sweet children and lives in Connecticut. She and her husband are both in publishing. She’s close to your age. She’s thirty-two.” Andy felt paternal toward Violet now. She was becoming his protégée.
“Thank you for the compliment,” Violet said, and looked worldly-wise for a minute. “I’m thirty-eight.” He’d seen it on her resumé and forgotten her exact age.
He smiled at her. “I was your age when I became studio head at Global. And now I’m fifty-seven, and I’ve felt like I’m a hundred for the past month.”
“Sometimes I feel that way too,” she said, and looked wistful. “Loss is a hard thing to adjust to, but you get used to it,” she said, as though she’d been there.
“It’s a job. I’ll get over it,” Andy said, trying not to sound weak to her. He didn’t feel right complaining to her. Her life was a great deal harder than his.
“It’s still a lot to lose. There must be a lot that goes with those jobs,” she said, and he laughed.
“Yeah, a plane, a title, a fancy car, a big office, and everyone kissing your ass. I got very spoiled in nineteen years. This has been humbling. Maybe I deserved it, and it’s good for me. You get to feeling very important. No one is ever that important.”
“Maybe you’ll find something you like better,” Violet said.
“It’s hard for me to imagine right now, but maybe you’re right. I don’t know what that would be. I loved my job every day, who wouldn’t?” He sounded sad, like a little boy who had lost his favorite toy.
