But you can’t just give up. You’ve worked way too hard for that, Harry.
Oh? I am. You know, you should come too. I asked Jude and Josh to come too, but I don’t think they are. I’m only here for a couple more days, but still. I’m with a couple of girlfriends, and it’s so much fun. Maybe it’ll help you forget about this mess and loosen up a little. Then you can go back to LA re-energized and ready to get your movie.
I’ll figure something out. I always do.
No thank you. You have fun with your friends. I’ll catch you when you get back.
My apartment is all cleaned and fixed up, but I kind of don’t want to go back to it right now. I’d say maybe I should take a vacation like everyone else is doing, but going alone sounds just really, really sad.
Maybe I’ll just visit home. It’s been awhile since I was back there.
In true Hollywood Star Sam Mason style, he showed up at the office fifteen minutes before I did, talked out of his ass, caused irreparable damage and cost us a deal.
NOTES: The day has come for Harrison to pitch his film to Paramount.
There were a number of things that could go wrong with a pitch meeting. Harrison imagined nearly every possible scenario since the day he’d confirmed his appointment with Paramount. It was said that anxiety made an efficient motivator, but coupled with the inevitable crippling fear of failing that came along with the anticipation was enough to bring even the strongest man to his knees.
The sun rose over Los Angeles just after six o’clock, and his reflection look as exhausted as Harrison felt. Working tirelessly for weeks was finally starting to catch up with him, but Harrison managed to keep his nerves at bay long enough to recite his pitch three more times before he had to leave for the studio’s offices. A quick, cold shower to jolt him with energy and reduce the swelling under his eyes was a necessity, and Harrison could feel his confidence rising as he dressed in a simple suit (snapped a photo for instagram) and headed out to his car.
He’d need to get in touch with Brightyn again soon. Weren’t they supposed to have a driving lesson this week?
And, okay. Perhaps drinking three coffees and a RedBull over the span of two hours may have been his first mistake, but it kept away the near-constant humming in his head. Another necessity. It was an addiction, he was sure. At least Harrison’s dependency on caffeine wasn’t nearly as fatal as many other Hollywood stars (could he even be considered one any longer?).
This meeting was meant to be a solo effort - Sam was missing in action somewhere but he’d hardly contributed to the screenplay anyway - so Harrison was genuinely confused when he drove into the visitor parking lot at Paramount after a half-hour trip and stopped next to Sam’s Audi.
Of all of the awful, devastating scenarios he’d pictured, this was not one of them.
Sam knew nothing about the state of their (Harry’s) movie. He hadn’t spent more than a week in the apartment in months, and had zero time to prepare for this meeting. A pitch was not something Sam could bluff, and there was absolutely no way that Harrison had time to brief him on anything. The foreboding feeling that all of his hard work was for naught was overwhelming and Harrison took three deep breaths to still himself.
Sam was supposed to be in New Orleans.
When had he come home? Who told him about the meeting? Harrison confided Devan and Piper, and neither of them were the least bit concerned with Sam’s whereabouts; he couldn’t imagine either of them letting it slip that he had a meeting. That was by design.
Had he written it down? Texted it to someone else by mistake? Left out his computer or iPhone while Sam was home last week? Days and hours were missing from his memory, and Harrison knew that this was no one’s fault but his own.
It was like watching his life in slow motion when Harry finally pushed through the office doors and into the waiting room. Sam wasn’t there, which meant that he was already inside, and Harrison could feel the bile rising in his throat as he walked across the polished floors.
This was karma, wasn’t it? It was wrong to keep this monumental meeting a secret and now the universe was punishing him for it.
Harrison checked in at the front desk and was almost instantly ushered into a room where Sam and three other men in suits were waiting. Or, Harrison assumed they were waiting, anyway. Sam looked relaxed, but that was nothing new. Mason was never intimidated, and, in fact, his friend reminded him of Simon in many ways; that indestructible, uncompromising persona that covered panic and anxiety. As Harry took a seat at the head of the table next to his roommate he hoped that that easygoing facade translated to the rest of the meeting.
But, as with everything, that fleeting moment of relief and hope was too good to be true.
It appeared as though Sam had already given the group the rundown of the film, which rendered the first quarter of Harrison’s pitch completely moot. He’d slaved for days coming up with an opening with a seamless plot synopsis that sold their still unnamed project as an interesting twist on the classic comic book superheroes.
There were printed and bound pitch books, with scene mock ups and artist commissioned set and costume drawings tucked away in Harrison’s messenger bag.
There were screenplay snippets and casting descriptions and budget estimates.
But when one of the supposed ‘writers’ of a film was ill prepared and the first to arrive, when he relied on thinly veiled charm and charisma, none of that mattered.
Harrison drafted meticulously thought out responses to every question a production firm could ask, but the damage was already done.
Instead of easygoing, confident conversation he’d imagined for the last several weeks there were snipped responses which felt like cold water being splashed in the face of a man who’d worked on nothing but this joke of a film else for months.
There were dry, strained laughs in response to Sam’s attempt good-natured ribbing, and Harrison swallowed hard as the buzzing in his ears intensified.
So that was it, wasn’t it? Time was money, and it seemed Sam’s insatiable need to prove a point cost them hundreds of thousands in funding for their film. His film.
As Harrison stood up to leave, his jaw tightened and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the bottled responses the executives fed him until they delivered the final, searing line that sealed his fate.
Unique concept, interesting plot line. Zero directorial or production experience. Lack of passion from a partner writer.
Shaking hands felt like a death wish, but Harrison pushed through it, his innate professionalism giving him the final push he needed to grit out a thank you for your time before turning on his heel and leaving the office just as quickly as he’d entered.
Harrison didn’t bother stopping and waiting for Sam to catch up and locked his doors the moment he was back in his car. He could feel his heart pounding much more rapidly than it had in weeks, and an overwhelming dizziness was causing his vision to blur as he desperately tried to recall what the fuck had just happened.
Paramount was his only hope. No other studio had shown any interest in #superheroes - in hindsight, it may have been the sad attempt at a working title - and there were no more options.
The bittersweet taste of failure forced Harrison to swallow the lump in his throat, and he shook away the haze before backing up out of the parking lot.
Sam was headed back to New Orleans tomorrow - Harrison had glanced at the schedule on their fridge this morning. With any luck, the motherfucker would stay there.
None of it whatsoever? I was expecting you’d at least remember not understanding lesson one, or falling asleep through it or something, but none is a bad sign. You might want to look into getting your money back, if you’re not getting anything out of it.
It’s not that I don’t understand - the principles are easy enough to apply. I’ll just have to start over tomorrow morning. I’ve decided it’s worth the investment, even if no one outside of University classics departments even care about Latin in the least.
I’ll teach you some fun phrases next time I see you.
I have zero recollection of lesson one, so I think I’m going to have to repeat it before moving on to lesson two. Give me a week or so and I’ll get back to you.
Yeah, but unlike me, you’re not the kinda guy who’s gonna take a bump to get him through the rest of the day. Unless that’s your thing now, and I’m off base or something.
I’ve got work to do until Wednesday afternoon, and after that I’ll have nothing but time. Expect full and complete recounts of any and all Latin advice I may receive.
