Because Fat Girl

Chapter Twenty-Two

Things felt tense in the group texts and emails we had for the next ten days, but Francine kept promising me it would all blow over. Chris had insisted that he and I drive together for our meeting with Focus, saying it was important to show up as a unified front. I loathed the idea of spending any time trapped in a car with him right now, but I acquiesced, promising myself I would let my annoyance with Chris fuel my fight for Janelle once we arrived.

“You’re late,” he said as soon as he saw me.

You’re lucky I came at all , I wanted to respond, but instead I silently seethed as I slid into the passenger seat of his pretentious green Porsche.

Chris wove his way through the Hollywood Hills, past the homes of some of the country’s richest and most powerful people, the people who decided which stories defined our culture, who got a voice and who was left out of the conversation. I’d spent so much of my life dreaming of access to these homes and the powerhouses within them, but now I was sitting in the car with one of them, and all I wanted to do was escape.

“You’re shockingly quiet,” Chris said as he pulled onto the 101 freeway.

“I have nothing to say to you,” I replied.

“I thought you’d spend the whole car ride fighting for Janelle as DP,” Chris admitted.

“I’m tired of trying to get straight white men to see things my way,” I explained. “I’m saving my energy for Silvia.”

“You think she’s going to be any better?” Chris laughed without any humor behind it. “Who do you think I’m taking orders from?”

“Don’t act like you’re the innocent victim here,” I rebutted.

“We’re all victims to the machine of Hollywood,” Chris countered as he pulled up to the Lankershim gate. “And none of us are innocent.”

Chris flashed the guard his million-dollar smile and was waved through without having to show his credentials. He drove directly to Silvia’s production office and pulled into a spot that said, Reserved for Chris Stanson and Associate .

That’s what I would always be to him. An associate. That shopgirl who helped out Emmy one day, the Coffee Girl he continually overlooked. But this was my movie, my dream, my day. Yes, Drew and Chris had opened the door for me, but that didn’t mean I didn’t belong in the room. As we got out of the car and walked toward Silvia’s office, I stood tall and strong in my resolve to fight for Janelle, not because she was my best friend but because she was the best cinematographer for this project, and she deserved to be in these rooms, too.

I followed Chris into Silvia’s office, stopping abruptly when I saw her assistant at the reception desk, remembering Chris’s comment that she thought I was cute. I waved at her awkwardly, then went and sat down next to Chris.

“Go talk to her.” He nudged me. “Get laid for all of our sakes.”

“Have you no semblance of decorum?” I retorted as Silvia’s door opened and her assistant beckoned us inside.

Chris turned on his charm, I plastered on my most confident smile, and together we headed into the executive’s office, the professional imitation of a united front.

“We have a problem,” Silvia said as a greeting, turning her computer toward us and showing a graphic image of two people having sex.

“And you lecture me on decorum,” Chris remarked.

Silvia pressed play, and the camera panned out to show the moaning face of a young woman.

“I’ll be damned,” Chris let out.

“Meet Honey DeLucca, a.k.a. Miel Garcia.” Silvia paused the film on a shot of Miel’s ecstatic face. “Obviously, she’s out.”

My heart sank at the idea of replacing Miel. Not only was she great for the role of Mikayla, but she was also a lovely human. Miel had been friendly and kind during casting calls, and a quick search of her online showed an out, queer Latina who was active in her community. She was exactly the kind of person I wanted on set. If anything, being a sex worker made me like Miel even more.

“Who cares if she’s worked in porn?” I asked.

“Hollywood hates porn valley,” Chris explained.

“But Miel is perfect in the role. If anything, this just proves she’s a great actress.” I pointed to her face on the screen. “Because, really, there’s no way she’s enjoying herself that much.”

“I’m sure you want your little friend to keep her job,” Silvia said, “but we can’t have this kind of thing popping up when we promote the film.”

“It’s not personal. It’s business,” I said.

“Precisely,” Silvia affirmed.

“No, I meant I don’t want to keep Miel because I like her personally. I barely know her. I want to keep her because she’s good for this movie.”

“A promiscuous woman is never good for a movie,” Silvia chastised.

“So it’s okay if Chris practically has sex on screen in this film and is considered the playboy of Hollywood, screwing his way through every famous starlet, but Miel has to be a virgin?”

“I don’t make the rules.” Silvia shrugged.

“But you’ll enforce them.” I scoffed.

“Chris, talk some reason into her,” Silvia said, exasperation in her voice.

“I’m actually with Diana,” Chris said, shocking us both.

“You are?” I muttered.

“It’s not personal. It’s business. The reason porn stars don’t usually cross over is because they can’t act. Miel can. She’s perfect for this role. Plus, she’ll bring fans with her.” Chris turned his tablet over. “Look at how popular she is on PornHub.”

“We can’t take the Bible Belt press on this one,” Silvia said. “Replace her.”

“We really love Miel for this role,” I insisted.

“And you’ll really love whoever I get to replace her,” Silvia said. “Now, who do you have for Laura? You’re not seriously considering Kali, are you? That was a joke, right? Because if you think I’m going to fund a movie with that irresponsible, drug-addled shit show as its lead, you’re stupider than you look, Chris.”

Wow, there was so much problematic bullshit in that, I don’t even know where to begin , I thought, sitting there fuming as Chris explained that Kali was doing better now, how she’d gained some weight and would be perfect for this role.

“I said no.” Silvia’s voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “Which means you’re here at a casting meeting with no cast. So what are you doing here besides wasting my time? You haven’t even signed Jennifer Conger yet like I told you to do.”

My heart stopped. Chris hadn’t signed Jennifer yet. That meant there was still a chance for Janelle to be director of photography. “That’s because we’re going with Janelle Zenon instead.” I grabbed Silvia’s laptop, ignoring the look Chris gave me, and pulled up Janelle’s IMDb profile.

“She’s done nothing of substance.” Silvia waved it off. “A few assistant jobs here and there. Why would you go with her instead of an award winner like Jennifer?”

“Budget,” Chris responded, and I shot him a furious glance. I did not want Silvia thinking we were going with Janelle because she was cheap. We were going with her because she was talented and they were going to pay her what she’s worth.

“And I set your budget,” Silvia replied. “I don’t want a nobody. I want Jennifer.”

“Janelle is one of the most talented cinematographers I’ve ever met.” I opened another browser and tried to find Janelle’s sizzle reel online. “If you’ll just watch—”

“I want Jennifer,” Silvia interrupted without looking at the screen.

“And I want Janelle,” I insisted, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m the director. Shouldn’t I get a say in who my right-hand cinematographer will be?”

Silvia stared at me, taking my measure before turning to Chris. “Solidify that contract with Jennifer this week.”

“I would really like you to reconsider,” I said.

“And I would really like you to stop making this all so personal,” Silvia shot back. “This is a business, and we’re in it to make money. Jennifer will make us money, so she’s in. Miel, Kali, and Janelle will not, so they’re out. If you can’t comprehend that simple, basic concept, then maybe you need to be out, too.”

“Got it.” I sat back in my chair, utterly defeated. There was nothing more I could do or say without risking my own role as director on this film, one I’d desperately wanted since I was a kid, and one I needed now that I’d quit Roussard’s. I couldn’t keep fighting for Janelle and Miel if I lost the only power I had. My hands were tied. I had to sit back and wait for another chance for all of us, hoping it came.

…

The rest of the meeting was a barrage of details, the little boring things that you don’t think of when you’re fantasizing about making a movie: catering budgets, production assistants, and whose trailer needed to go where to make this all happen. The sketches of the sets were coming along, and it was surreal seeing a backlot transformed into my little hometown. We’d have to do a few shots in the field, but mostly we’d be filming on a soundstage at Universal. Any other time, these details would have sent me into ecstatic excitement, but my dream for this film had always included a diverse cast and crew, and that dream was dwindling with each meeting we had.

“Chris, a moment alone,” Silvia said as we were packing up to leave.

Chris nodded me on, and I didn’t have the energy left to protest that I should be included in their conversation if it involved this film. Instead, I waited outside, watching people come and go, some carrying equipment, others dressed like zombies or store clerks. I thought I saw America Ferrera, but she disappeared too quickly for me to be sure.

“Let’s go.” Chris emerged a few minutes later, not waiting for me as he strode toward the car. I followed him, my emotionally exhausted body flopping into the passenger seat.

“What did you and Silvia talk about?” I was afraid to know the answer but had to ask.

“Budget stuff,” Chris replied dismissively.

“Anything I should worry about?” I asked.

He started the car. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You sure?” I prodded, unconvinced.

“I said I’ll take care of it,” he responded, his voice angry.

“Okay.” I put my hands up. “I’ll drop it.”

“Put on some music, will you?” Chris said as we left the Universal lot. “I’m tired of hearing my own thoughts.”

Not sure what had gotten into Chris or what kind of music he liked, I put on Lucy Dacus’s cover of Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark,” a song I turned to when life felt overwhelming and I needed a reminder that I’ve got this.

I put on boygenius’s self-titled album next, and we let the music wash over us, singing along when we knew the words, which Chris surprisingly did. His voice was beautiful and in perfect pitch, reminding me that he got his start in musicals. It gave me flashbacks to Cecily playing his songs over and over again as a teen. My voice was not great, but I didn’t care. I sang along anyway, not wanting to let my brain wander back to Silvia’s office and what she might have said to Chris.

We made it through most of the album before Chris pulled into his driveway and parked next to my Subaru. He turned off the car, ending the music as he did. The contrasting silence sat heavily between us. I could tell he was readying himself to say something, and I dreaded what it would be. He took a deep breath, and let it go in a sigh. “Silvia said you’re out.”

I should have expected this. I should have known that’s why they’d met without me. Still, Chris’s words hit like a sucker punch to the gut.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t get enough oxygen to my brain to think about what this meant. For me. For my movie. For my dreams.

I started gasping for air. I needed out of this car. I needed away from Chris.

Panicking, I opened the passenger door, falling down as I tried to get out, running away from it all, running away from Chris, the man that I’d stupidly thought for a brief moment today was in this together with me, a united front.

Of course that’s what Silvia had wanted.

Of course Chris had agreed.

Of course I was out.

I was never in to begin with.