I approached Cate only to have Henrik shake his head at me. A warning. I started to walk away, but Cate’s voice stopped me. “I already know, Iris. You didn’t manage it.”
I turned around. “How?”
Cate peered at the sky, one hand shielding her eyes. “Because if you had succeeded at the studio, you would have busted into my trailer last night to tell me.”
Why did she have to be right about me all time?
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice gruff. “The poem was… It was too hard.”
“Everything is too hard,” she said. I waited for her to elaborate. Too hard for the movie? For women? What? But Cate was distracted by the reporter clearly trailing our conversation. “Her name is Grace Lee. She’s freelance. A veritable spy for the producers of Elementia.”
“Catherine,” Henrik warned.
“Don’t you ‘Catherine’ me, Henrik. I know what’s going on, and they don’t treat this production well enough for me to paint pretty lies for them to peddle about!” Her voice rose, her temper teetering on some cliff’s edge. She growled and walked back to the water.
Henrik took a deep breath, and we both watched Cate place a shielding hand over her eyes again. It wasn’t that bright out; she was trying to hide her expression.
“What’s wrong?”
“In a word? Everything.” Henrik closed his notebook and played with the short brim of his floppy hat. “New budget complications, and we’ve been getting bad press. And Cate talked on one of Eamon’s YouTube blogs about the lack of support from the studio. She’s not wrong, but Jesus, she can’t be honest like that without a backlash.”
“Cate suffers no fools,” I said. “It’s what I like about her.”
“She suffers, Iris. A lot.” He motioned to the reporter with a nod of his head. “The powers that be over at Vantage have sent her to pronounce the film dead. The sentencing will come out through the media, and then the producers can shut us down with a shrug. It helps them save face.” He looked at me. “It would have helped if you’d recorded that song. We would have been able to spin it as though your family was having a part in the production.”
As if I couldn’t feel worse.
Henrik looked like he might apologize, but shook his head and walked away instead. After a moment, I left, not realizing that Cate was stalking after me until I felt her hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry I pushed you,” Cate said, surprising me so much I stopped walking.
“You don’t seem like you apologize very often.”
“I try not to do anything that requires an act of contrition.”
I glanced back at the crew members and the most picturesque lake I’d ever seen. “What’s happening? They aren’t going to shut down the film, are they?”
“Maybe. We’re over budget.” Cate stared and I thought I’d see the fire, brimstone, and mobster side of her again—at least that’s what I wanted. It was not, however, the side that was waiting. Her eyes drooped in the corners, her mouth doing something similar. “I won’t give up, Iris. I’ll die trying to get this right. I won’t give up or back down.”
Henrik reappeared and put an arm around her waist. It looked friendly, but he took most of her weight. “Cate needs to eat, Iris. And drink water. And take a goddamn break before tonight. This is the most important scene in the movie, Cate. Remember?”
She nodded, pushed Henrik’s arm away, and started walking toward her trailer. I watched Grace Lee’s eyes trail after her as though they were snapping paparazzi pictures.
“Cate works every minute,” Henrik said, worry creeping into each word. “Sometimes she sends me off for the night, says we’re done, and then I wake to find she’s reworked all the dialogue and reprinted the sides.” He shook his head, and I could tell how much Henrik loved Cate. Her pain left him in pain, his expression creased. “You’d think the studio would applaud her for facing the budget constraints by taking on additional crew positions herself. Instead, they send spies to document her exhaustion and say she’s not strong enough.”
“Would they say the same things if you were in charge?”
Henrik knew what I meant; this was—at least in large part—because Cate had matching X chromosomes. He took off his hat and rubbed a hand through his thinning, dark hair. “If I were in charge, we wouldn’t be over budget, but the dailies would look cheap. She puts the art first. The story. It’s what makes her and this adaptation brilliant. If we can make it to the cutting room floor, it’ll all be worth it. If we can only make it…”
“What can I do to help?” I asked, the words surprising but real. First, be honest.
“Do you mean it?” he asked. I nodded. Henrik pointed to the reporter. “Will you talk to her? Say something optimistic. Anything. She doesn’t have photographic permission, so you don’t need to worry about your image being taken. I’ll set it up if you’re serious.”
“I am, but…I can’t speak on behalf of the Thorne family.” I was already pulling back, already doubting my first step. “My dad will kill me.”
“Why don’t you speak for yourself?”
I actually laughed. When he frowned, I said, “That’s, uh, not something I’ve been encouraged to do before.”
He scrutinized my face. “That’s crap, Iris. Believe it or not, people care what you think.”
• • •
I sat at a picnic table at the center of the production trailers, waiting for Henrik to bring over Grace Lee. It felt like I was inching forward on my own two feet for the first time in my life… Toward what kind of cliff, I had no idea.
I texted Julian, replaying his talk about “my family’s fans.” I needed that to be real.
Wish you were here. Things are getting worse.
It was in the middle of the night in LA, but maybe I’d hear back. Julian was never away from his phone, but then maybe he
