Her intelligent eyes study me, searching for something, and then I remember who she was expecting to meet today. She’s only ever seen me as Jane Eyre, so I let Jane’s steady gaze meet hers. She smiles, satisfied.
“This is exciting,” she says, almost to herself, then leans forward, elbows on the desk. “So, Galatea. What do you think?”
“It’s a great script. Perfect. And I think it’s perfect for now.”
She nods as I speak. “You’ve watched the movies we sent?” Her brow crinkles as she waits for my thoughts.
“I did. And I remembered watching the Rex Harrison version as a kid. It’s a fun film, but obviously of-a-different-time,” I add pointedly. “And from what I can gather the film is pretty much the opposite of what Bernard Shaw wrote. I guess something like Spike Jonze’s Her is actually closer to what Shaw wrote, in terms of the object becoming the subject. The ideal becoming a living breathing autonomous reality who can suddenly choose for herself.”
A bright smile flashes across Kathryn’s face as she slams a palm down enthusiastically on the desk. “Yes. This is why I wanted you. This. Yes. This is good. And you’re right that’s the kind of ending we want. The teacher educates the student, she learns everything he teaches her then works out she’s too good for him. That’s the story. A new kind of makeover movie. Sandy puts on her Lycra catsuit and realizes she can definitely do better than Danny Zuko, the man who wanted her to change in the first place, and instead she heads off to find a real equal.”
I fleetingly think of how George left me for someone cooler, someone prettier, someone younger, and I feel my confidence wobble beneath me.
Get your shit together, Mia, I tell myself. Because, if you remember correctly, George sat around the house in his underwear for most of November.
Kathryn is still talking, oblivious to my momentary internal flutter. “So let me tell you the production plan so far.” She pulls a portfolio across the desk and opens it between us.
“I want a female director and a top-notch female crew. We’re tying down a director today, oh, and there’s an offer out on Professor Higgins.” She looks up excitedly. Her energy is infectious: any remaining nerves I may have had fall away. “You wanna know who we’ve asked?”
I scooch forward in my seat to better see the portfolio before her. “Of course!”
She grins and spins the book to face me, her index finger pressed below a name.
“Top secret of course.” She grins “And it’s only an offer, so we’ll see.”
A shot of pure adrenaline shoots through me as I read the name printed above her finger. Oh my God. I look straight back at her.
“Will he do it?” I blurt.
She grins. “Maybe. He’s very picky these days—he hasn’t worked in two years—but he likes the idea. A lot. That’s all I’m going to say.”
I feel my cheeks flush and my head lighten. If he says yes, and if I somehow pull off this meeting, then—
I need to calm down. I take a gulp of ice water and Kathryn chuckles.
“I had the exact same reaction,” she says. “Anyway, what I want to do, Mia, is get you to test for this.”
I immediately sober. Oh God, no, not testing. The never-ending marathon of testing. First screen testing, then a chemistry reading, then waiting to hear, then retesting, then studio executives opining, and then the possibility that after all that, it falls through as it so often does. But Kathryn’s already ahead of me.
“Wait, before you go down that road, hear me out. I just want you and him testing. Just a chemistry read, both of you in a room, on film. This isn’t an open call. Listen, I’ve seen your stuff; I know what you can do. And I’ve sent him your stuff. It’ll just be you and him, in some scenes together, and we see how it goes.”