Page 54 of Faking the Pass

Dream Project

R osie

A few days later, Elka Herwin called me. I didn’t remember even giving her my number, but maybe Iris had?

“Rosie, it’s Elka. We met at the Cosmo Gala, remember?”

I laughed a little, surprised once again at her humility.

“Of course I remember you. How are you?”

“I’m great,” she said. “Even better now that I know you’re out from under that Cinderella sequel.”

“You heard about that?”

“ Everyone’s heard about it,” she drawled. “I have a script for you.”

“What? For me?” I asked even though, duh , she’d just said it.

“I think you’re going to love it. Can you come to my house in Beverly Hills today and talk?” she asked.

I was already grabbing my purse, heading for the door. “I can be there in an hour, traffic-gods willing. Just give me the address.”

Driving through the open gates of the director’s mansion felt like an out of body experience.

I didn’t think I’d ever parked more carefully, terrified of overshooting the courtyard stones and damaging the expensive landscaping. A single one of those exotic plants probably cost more than my old beater car.

As soon as I got out of it, Elka appeared in the front doorway of the house.

Walking toward me barefoot in a pair of cutoffs and a crisp, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, she looked cool, comfortable, and very, very rich.

“Rosie,” she exclaimed in a happy sing-song voice. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

As if there was any chance I’d ever say no to an opportunity like this one.

“I was so happy to hear from you,” I said. “Ecstatic actually.”

“I’m sure you were pretty happy a few nights ago, after that Ophelia special aired. I know you’re under an NDA, so I won’t ask you about it. We’ve got better things to talk about anyway. Have you had lunch yet?”

“No actually.” I’d literally run out of the apartment as soon as I’d hung up the phone, and now that she mentioned it, I was hungry.

“Good. I’ve got a spread out back by the pool.”

She motioned for me to follow her, and we went inside, walking through the gorgeous mansion toward a set of doors that opened to the back yard.

It was even more impressive than the front with a sun-drenched patio and sparkling pool surrounded by palm trees and lush tropical plants.

“I wasn’t sure if you were a vegan, carnivore, or somewhere in between,” Elka said, opening one of the back doors for me, “so we have a bit of everything here.”

“Sounds amazing. I’m not picky.”

Also, my stomach was churning with excitement—not sure how wise it was to fill it to the brim.

Not until I settled down a bit at least.

Randy’s house and grounds had been nice of course and had definitely looked like the estate of a rich person, but it had also been kind of cold and impersonal.

Elka’s home had so much more warmth and charm and appeal—like her.

She took a seat at the shaded poolside table and invited me to do the same then began filling her plate from the various platters.

“I’ve been working from home all morning,” she said, “so please excuse me if I inhale this without chewing.”

I laughed. “Inhale away.”

After we’d both dug in and enjoyed a few bites, Elka started telling me about the project she had in mind for me.

“After meeting you at the gala, I read the Margaret Oliphant book you suggested. Fabulous.”

It had actually been Presley who’d suggested it to her, trying to help my career, but I simply said, “It really is, isn’t it?”

Nerves were popping and firing all over my body in anticipation of what was coming next.

“I had a couple of writers work on an adaptation with me,” she said. “I think we’ve come up with something special, and of course, I want you for the project. If you’ve really read it that many times, no one knows Lucilla better than you.”

“I really have. In fact, I’ve read it a couple more times since I last saw you.”

We both laughed.

“Well, I’d love for you to take a look at the script and see if it’s something you’d like to be a part of. I think it has Academy Award potential.”

“You don’t have to persuade me,” I told her. “I already know I want to work with you, and I don’t think you know how to do a bad movie. This one is literally my dream project, like, the film of my heart, you know?”

She beamed at me. “We’re going to make one hell of a movie together.”

I smiled back, so big it kind of hurt my face. “Yes, we are.”

We talked for a while about the project, finishing lunch (which I actually did fill myself to the brim with.)

Already, I felt more comfortable working with Elka than I ever had with Randy. She acted like a colleague rather than a Machiavellian mentor, as he had.

This project would only be my second film, but I had no doubt the experience of working with her as a producer and director would be a vastly different—and probably infinitely better—experience.

I could hardly wait to get started.

As we sat and enjoyed the sunshine and warm breeze, the conversation turned personal.

“So what happened with the quarterback? If you don’t mind my asking.”

That Presley-shaped hole in my heart started aching.

“I don’t mind.”

It wasn’t like she’d brought up a sore subject or something—I’d already been thinking of him during our chat.

One, because I always thought of him, and two, because I literally would not have been sitting here discussing my dream- come-true movie with my dream director if not for Presley and his belief in my abilities.

“It didn’t work out,” I told her sadly. “The way we got married—so fast—we really never stood a chance, I guess.”

“That’s too bad. He was super cute.”

Elka studied my face for a second, taking a sip from her iced tea glass.

“You seemed like the perfect couple to me. He must have been a real covert asshole for you to leave him.”

“Oh no, he wasn’t. He was amazing,” I said. “We just weren’t good for each other.”

More like I wasn’t good for him . My baggage was too much to lay on even a super strong guy like Pres.

“Besides, he didn’t love me. Not really. Honestly, it was a marriage of convenience,” I confessed.

Elka’s brows shot up to her hairline.

“If that’s the case I need to hire him for my next film because he’s a hell of an actor,” she said. “Anyone who saw your wedding video and watched you two together at the gala would believe without a doubt that he loved you.”

It was the exact opposite of what Randy had said.

But then Randy was a proven liar, wasn’t he? Elka had apparently looked at our fake marriage and thought it was real.

Had it been?

“I don’t know,” I said, responding to Elka as well as my own internal question. “The whole thing’s been kind of confusing, and the end was a disaster.”

“Been there,” she said in sympathy. “You sure it was the end?”

I sighed. “Well, I handed him divorce papers—which he signed—and when I called him a few days ago after the Ophelia special, it went straight to voicemail. He hasn’t called back.”

She nodded. “Well that doesn’t sound great , but as you know, I write scripts and tell plot-heavy stories for a living. There could be all kinds of explanations for him not calling you back.”

“He might have lost his phone,” she suggested. “He might be out of the country.”

“He might hate my guts,” I said sourly. “All I did during our marriage was take from him. He didn’t really get all that much out of the arrangement.”

Elka smirked. “The man I met that night didn’t seem like a guy who thought he was getting a raw deal.”

I thought about the scorching night we’d spent together in the hotel after the gala. Presley had certainly seemed satisfied.

And the things he’d said at the courthouse about me being “the one”...

Remembering it, I sighed, and that achey hole in my heart stretched a little bit wider.

If it got much bigger, it would swallow me.

Looking back on that morning in court now, I could see that I’d been so freaked out over Randy’s threats, I’d plunged into fight-or-flight mode—with both feet.

Unfortunately, I’d chosen flight instead of staying to fight for what Presley and I had together.

“Maybe you’re right, but I messed it up,” I said to Elka. “I got scared and gave up on us. I’m the one who ended it, saying it was for the best.”

Going back to my favorite justification, I said, “Maybe it was. His career has thrived without me.”

Her face softened in sympathy. “I walked away from some good guys myself because of fear.”

“You did?”

“Oh yeah. Anyone who had potential to actually be something real, anyone who made me feel vulnerable, they had to go,” she said, hooking a thumb over her shoulder.

“And who knows, maybe my career thrived because of it?”

She waved a hand toward the mansion, which was perfect in every way.

“But you know what? I’m living in this big old house alone. And I’m tired of being alone. I wouldn’t even admit that to myself until recently.”

I was riveted, nodding as she continued.

“But I’ve been doing a lot of work on myself the last year or two and finally noticed my pattern,” she said, “which has done nothing but keep me isolated and full of regrets. I not only hurt those men by holding myself back and eventually leaving, I hurt myself by keeping my walls up. Extreme independence is a trauma response, you know.”

A lance of self-recognition pierced my heart.

“So what are you doing differently now?” I asked.

She smiled.

“I’ve decided my new policy is going to be choosing faith instead of fear. You wouldn’t be sitting here otherwise.”

“I chose faith when deciding to hire you for this film,” Elka said.

“That’s what I plan to do next time I meet one of the good guys.

I’m going to have faith in him, but more importantly, faith in myself that I’m enough to keep him and not spend the whole time I’m with him waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I’m going to choose to believe there is no shoe and let myself be fucking happy for a change. ”

I was stricken by the suspicion I’d done the wrong thing in surrendering to my own fear and leaving Presley before he could leave me.

My lack of faith had caused me more pain than I’d ever felt before, even when Randy had deceived me. Even when I’d lost my mom.

This time there was no one to blame but myself.

“I made the wrong choice, didn’t I?”

Elka shrugged. “Only you can say for sure. What does your intuition tell you?”

Just then a very clear internal YES ricocheted through my brain. It was so loud I almost wondered if Elka had heard it too.

“I didn’t invite a plus-one to the Academy Awards,” I said. “But I’m about to. I just hope I can reach him in time.”

“And if you can’t?” she asked.

“Then I’ll choose faith over fear and fly to Rhode Island the day after the Oscars and talk to him in person.”

“That’s my Lucilla,” Elka said. “There’s a reason you read that book so many times. I think you were gathering inspiration and courage to rewrite your own story… and save your own damn self.”