Page 54 of Penalty Shot

“We’re down three to zero in a best of seven. One more win for Miami—we’re playing in their arena again—and it’s done.”

“When is the game?”

“Tomorrow. Look, as talented as you are with pep talks, that’s not why I called. Distract me. Tell me about the play. How are rehearsals? Did you fix the lighting?”

I’m touched by the detailed questions. Randall is a great listener.

“At this point, rehearsals are in a cycle of repeat, repeat, repeat.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I guess.”

“Elise? What are you not telling me?”

How does he do that? How does he intuit the inner workings of my mind with barely a hint, with nothing more than the briefest hesitation?

Suddenly, I have no choice but to unleash the nagging mind fuck that has kept me up at night.

“There’s one scene that I want to revise. It’s when Joy—that’s my lead—sees the ghost of her mentor. It’s supposed tobe a moment of fear and reckoning, but I want to infuse it with something different. Slow it down. Give it more context that I didn’t realize it needed when I wrote it.”

“What do you mean?” He asks eagerly.

I hear the ruffle of cloth from his end, as if he sat up on a bed. It’s late, after all. Nearly midnight, which is when we’ve usually found the time to connect.

Randall on a bed. Sprawled and eager. What a thought.

“Tell me. Get it off your chest.” His solicitous tone jars me from thoughts I shouldn’t have.

“I want to adda sequence that shows the beginning of their relationship as an older white woman taking a young Asian girl under her wing as they, um, as they face the brutal corporate world of Wall Street,” I blurt in a rush.

He makes sounds likeuh-hmandgo on.I continue.

“What makesthisrelationship so special is precisely that the dynamic between women in the workforce, especially in the eighties, was unique. They don’t have a boys’ club; they have each other. I want to step back from all the somber gloom that has been looming over the tragedy. There has to be a jarring shift in this scene. A completely new setting in tone and appearance. I want the moment torelivewhat was fresh and affectionate and playful about their original collaboration. I want it to be light in the middle of the dark. An alternative that was snuffed out by greed and competition and pressure. Something special co-created by women wasalwayspossible. For a while, these two women pushed against the dog-eat-dog world of the men. They had a collaboration that didn’t duplicate patriarchy’s brutal mindsets. I want to provide a glimpse of that authentic connection, fleeting but real.”

I’m running my mouth like there’s a rabbit I’m chasing and if I don’t pounce on it, the rabbit will disappear back under cover. My idea has been buried under my impulse to follow rules, to fitin, to please everyone. Adding something now is the opposite of that impulse.

“Randall?”

“Jesus, Elise. That fucking blew me away, baby.” His voice has lowered yet intensified, full of quiet intimacy. My body shivers with the pleasure of his praise.

“In a good way?”

“In a great way. I know you’re inspired by Shakespeare and all, but what I love most is the way it doesn’t just sayfuck youto the boys’ club of eighties corporate America, it’s kind of a fuck you toMacbeth,too, isn’t it? Or am I getting that wrong?”

I’m bursting. Truly, my heart is going to explode because I’m thrilled by how much Randallgetsit.

“Yes! Yes, that’s exactly it! An alternative to the tragedy, right in the middle of the tragedy.”

“Do it. It’s so fucking smart. Just do it.”

“Rewriting a scene is one thing.Addinga new one with a setting change and tone shift is flirting with disaster.”

“You’re a good flirt. Hasn’t led to disaster, as far as I can tell.”

I ignore the innuendo of our brief fling because, to be honest, I don’t mind it. I love how he can let me be serious and playful, thoughtful and casual, all at the same time.

“Haha, you say that to all the directors, I’m sure.”