Because Fat Girl

Chapter Fifteen

A combination of intense nerves and giddy excitement washed over me as I drove up to the Lankershim gate at the Universal backlot and handed my ID to the guard.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” He handed my driver’s license back to me and turned around.

Panic sank in as I realized today was the first of April, and I wondered if this was all some kind of twisted April Fool’s joke Chris and Drew liked to play on naive screenwriters. How stupid I had been to think two major movie stars would want to produce my film. How idiotic to think I could get a meeting with an executive so quickly. Shame filled me as I put my car in reverse, hoping to flee the scene before someone could come out with a camera and tell me I’d been punked. Just as I was starting to pull away, the guard handed me a paper map with two X s marked on it.

“Your meeting has been moved from the Carl Laemmle building to this backlot bungalow.” He pointed to one X , and then the other. “You need to enter at this gate here, then you can park here. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

With a giant sigh of relief, I thanked the guard and made my way to the other security checkpoint. I belong here, I reminded myself as I handed my ID to the other guard, who waved me through quickly and wished me a good day.

I found the parking area easily enough, but the bungalow was a bit more difficult to pinpoint, and I wandered around trying to look like I knew where I was going, the heels I’d stupidly let Cecily talk me into wearing painfully digging into my feet. Finally, I found the bungalow marked on my map, took a deep breath, and headed inside.

“Hi,” I said to a busy-looking receptionist typing away on her computer. “I’m here to see Silvia…” Shit, I’d forgotten her last name.

The receptionist looked up from her screen and appraised me. “Are you an agent?”

“No, I’m a writer and director.” She gave me a Who isn’t these days? look. “I’m Diana Smith. She’s expecting me.”

“Why are you wearing a suit?” She tilted her head to the side, like I was something interesting to analyze.

“Why, what?” I looked down at my outfit, confused, wondering if I’d spilled something on it.

“Only agents wear suits. Lose the jacket, and wait over there.” She nodded toward a group of chairs tucked into the corner of the room.

“Thanks?” I didn’t know whether that tip was helpful or insulting, but I took off my jacket anyway before sitting down, suddenly very self-conscious. Minutes before, I’d felt powerful in this outfit. Now it felt like a flashing sign that I was basically a kid playing dress-up with no idea what I was doing.

The office was small, about the size of a studio apartment, and I was nervous sitting there under the receptionist’s watchful eye. My stomach gurgled loudly, reminding me that I’d never eaten the protein bar Cecily had thrust in my hand when I left the house. I wondered if I had time to go back and get it, but decided my car was parked too far away and my feet were hurting enough as it was in these shoes. I kept fidgeting with my papers, my skirt, the chair, anything to keep my mind busy, annoying the receptionist enough for her to look over and ask if I needed anything.

“I think I’ll wait outside.” I stood and got out of there as fast as I could in heels, trying to find a bench to sit on and wait.

A black Tesla pulled into one of the reserved parking spots across from the office, and Drew got out. My stomach did flips seeing him there. Somehow his presence made this all feel more real. Drew stopped and greeted someone—I assumed a sound guy from the equipment he carried—and they embraced like old friends. I stood there awkwardly watching their interactions, waiting for Drew to look up and see me, wanting desperately to appear poised and professional when he did.

The backlot was a big attraction for the Universal Studios amusement park, and a tram full of tourists drove by, stopping to point out Drew, who smiled, waved, and posed for photos. He looked completely at home there. Meanwhile, I was nervously sweating and spinning my thumbs in circles around each other, unable to tell if I needed to run, vomit, cry, or laugh.

At some point, Drew would make his way over here, and then what? A couple months ago he was some actor on the screen that I never dreamed of meeting, and now he was…what? My boss? My colleague? My friend? Some guy I maybe almost kissed? Since meeting him, he’d taken me to a kitschy putt-putt golf course, a fancy restaurant for his mother’s birthday, and his gorgeous home in the Hollywood Hills. In a matter of weeks, Drew had been able to arrange the kind of meeting I’d been waiting five years to get. How was I supposed to act around someone with that much power?

Drew looked up and saw me staring at him. He smiled and offered a friendly wave before a sporty, dark green Porsche revved into the spot next to him. Chris Stanson got out and immediately embraced the sound guy, then Drew, patting them both on the back and laughing about something I couldn’t hear. I stood there waiting awkwardly as they chatted, hyperaware of my toes being squashed into the ends of my heels. Never again , I vowed as Chris and Drew said goodbye to the sound man and headed my way.

“Coffee Girl,” Chris greeted me. “You ready for this?”

“Born ready,” Drew and I said in unison.

“Look at that. Already in sync.” Chris smiled cockily. “That’s good. You’ll be spending a lot of time together these next few months. You’ll need that synergy.”

“And you?” I asked, trying not to think about what spending months intimately working with Drew would feel like. “What’s your role in all of this?”

“I’m going to get us the money,” Chris said, then raised his arms open toward the woman walking our way in impressively high heels and a dangerously tight skirt. Drew straightened up, and from the wide grins both men plastered on their faces, I assumed this was the studio executive walking toward us.

“Silvia!” Chris pulled her into an embrace and kissed both her cheeks. “Looking gorgeous as always.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Chris,” Silvia replied.

“You know Drew, I assume.” Chris pointed to his friend.

“Only by reputation.” Silvia extended her hand to Drew. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“The honor is mine,” Drew said.

“And this must be your writer,” Silvia questioned, turning to me.

“Diana Smith. Meet Silvia Cortez.”

Cortez! That’s her last name , I thought as Silvia gave me a firm handshake.

“Now,” she said, letting go of her vise grip on my hand. “Let’s go inside and talk about this little film you’ve brought me.”