Although wouldn't it be great if you could have more than one engagement ring and then just wear whichever one matched your mood? Maybe I could get that started as a trend…. Focus, Brooke!
«You mean the screenplay you're writing about my life,» I say, looking him dead in the eyes.
«I mean the screenplay about my wedding and how I invited my ex-girlfriend,» he says, returning my gaze. «See, Brooke, it's really my story to tell.»
«Isn't Ava the star of the movie, not Leo?»
«Well, yes,» he says, picking at an imaginary piece of lint on his jacket.
«So, then, it's really
«Look, Brooke. I just need something more to really make the story solid,» Trip says. «So, help me out, would you? It'll be just like in law school when we used to collaborate together all the time.»
What he means to say is:
«Where's your engagement ring?» he asks, doing a half-stand out of his chair to get a closer look at my hand. Which has the effect of making me immediately cover my left hand with the right.
«Oh,» I say. «That. Yes, well. It's at the cleaners. I mean, the ring cleaners. You know, the jewelers. You know what I mean. Since when are you so interested in jewelry?»
Must get the ex-boyfriend out of my office, stat!
He shakes his head and settles back into the chair. «So, were there any other complications in being an unmarried girl going to your ex-boyfriend's wedding? Anything else you haven't told me?»
«No,» I say, with a clipped tone, turning to my computer. I begin to check my e-mail, hoping that he'll think that I'm too busy to talk to him and just leave.
An e-mail pops up on my screen:
From: «Vanessa Taylor»
To: «Brooke Miller»
Subject: Do it!
Did you fess up to Trip yet???
Vanessa Taylor
Gilson, Hecht and Trattner
425 Park Avenue
11th Floor
New York, New York 10022
*****CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE***** The information contained in this e-mail message is confidential and is intended only for the use of the individual or entity named above. If you are not the intended recipient, we would request you delete this communication without reading it or any attachment, not forward or otherwise distribute it, and kindly advise Gilson, Hecht & Trattner by return email to the sender or a telephone call to 1 (800) GILSON. Thank you in advance.
That girl's timing is uncanny. I look over to Trip, sitting in my visitor's chair like a sad little puppy, his pad out, ready to jot down any words of wisdom I may spew out.
«I just feel like I'm missing something here,» Trip says, tapping his pen against the side of the pad. «What the script really needs is something to bring it all together. It needs more comedy. More of a love story.»
«How's this,» I say, throwing him a bone. «I
«Right on, right on,» Trip says. Even though he's originally from Connecticut, he certainly has adapted to being a left-coaster. If he says «bitchin» I'm kicking him out of my office.
«Okay, so great,» I say, standing up. «If I think of anything else, I'll call you!»
Trip stays planted in his seat.
«I'm sorry,» he says. «I don't mean to be bugging you. It's just that there is so much pressure on me to make this thing great. It just needs a little oomph. Something to make it stand out from all of those other romantic comedies out there. This means a lot to me. And to Ava.»
And just like that, I begin to soften. I was so busy trying to one-up Trip that I forgot that there are things that I actually like about him. His determination. His stick-to-it-ness. For a moment, I remember how devoted he could be to something he believed in. Which is probably what makes him such a great agent. Seeing him work so hard at something really makes me feel like I want to help.
And I
But just as I am about to tell him the truth, the thing that will make his movie truly great and prove that I am a self-confident woman who doesn't care what anyone else thinks, he says: «That's it. I just figured it out.»
«What?» I ask, curious to hear what fabulous plot point he's come up with. See, Trip was right-collaborating
«Why you're not wearing your ring,» he says. «That's it. I've figured it out.»
«Figured what out?» I say back very quickly, suddenly squirming in my office chair. This will be so much more embarrassing if he's figured out what I've done before I get to fess up to him and maintain at least one tiny shred of dignity.
«You're pregnant!» he says, jumping up from his chair and running around my desk to give me a hug. «That's why you're not wearing your ring! I knew you looked a bit bloated today. But, you're pregnant, aren't you? Aren't you?! You can tell me.»
Note to self: Must go home immediately and burn this entire outfit. And then murder my ex-boyfriend.
«I. Am. Not. Pregnant.»
«Oh, man,» he says, arms falling down to his sides as he releases his grip on me. «Are you sure?»
«Oh, yes,» I say. «I'm sure. Not pregnant, just bloated.»
«I don't know what to say, Brooke.»
And with that, those old feelings are gone.
«Get out,» I say, and Trip finally leaves my office.
Chapter Five
“What’s great about this film is that I don’t have to lose weight for the part,” Ava says to Rachel Star of
Rachel Star nods back knowingly. I can just picture the two of them out to dinner now-
“Now, that sounds like my kind of shoot!” Lara says and she and Ava break out in giggles.
My ex-boyfriend’s wife is on
You can catch it when it comes out on the big screen, but please just do me a favor and don’t tell me if you go.
Oh, please. As if you’re not
