The message makes me smile, and I walk to work with a new bounce in my step. I tap out a reply: Amy’s book review – ‘bitingly witty and hole-some.’
At work, once the whole team has assembled, I call everyone into the downstairs meeting room. Callum hovers at the door, offering to go and make tea, but I beckon him in.
‘Callum, get in here, we can live without tea. Now, I know we’re under time pressure,’ I say. ‘The pitch is in eleven days and we haven’t settled on an idea yet. I’m sorry I haven’t been more present in the office, I’ve had some personal issues to deal with, but I’m here now.’ I pause, surveying the room. Trey looks exhausted, though he’s wearing a cheerful sequinned tank top, with matching beret. Michael is buttoning and unbuttoning the top button of his waistcoat. Dominique and Leon look up at me with wide-eyed expectation, while Callum just looks thrilled to be here.
‘So, I’m counting on you to help me translate this idea into a workable show, but I wanted to tell you about this game I play with my son. It’s like the floor is lava but it’s not just the floor that’s going to get you, it’s everything in the house. The airing cupboard is a dragon’s lair, a waterfall’s coming down the stairs, the kitchen is a cave of killer bats.’
‘ “The House Is Going to Get You”,’ says Dominique.
‘Yes, exactly. I haven’t worked out a format, but I like the concept of turning places we know into the location for an adventure, using household objects to defeat monsters. Can you work with that as a jumping-off point?’
The energy in the room slowly shifts, as everyone starts talking, all keen to contribute.
‘Scene! The office is filling with water,’ says Leon, jumping onto his chair. ‘We need a boat, but all we have is . . .’ He looks to Dominique, and she hands him an imaginary object.
‘This giant stapler.’ Everyone laughs as he and Dominique mime stapling together a boat out of pieces of paper, climbing into it and then slowly sinking. They take a bow then head back to their seats, but Michael says, ‘No, keep going.’
Leon and Dominique carry on their game, imagining disasters befalling the office, which they overcome using office equipment.
‘How are they doing this so effortlessly?’ I ask.
‘They’re in an improv troupe together,’ Michael leans in to tell me. ‘A talented bunch.’
Trey slams a hand on the desk, as though he’s just thought of something brilliant.
‘We could do 4D VR mapping on the kids’ houses. You’d see the monsters right there in hologram, as though they’re coming out from under the bed, or the wardrobe or whatever.’ Trey opens his drawing pad.
‘Could we make the monsters the real ones that the kids imagine – if they could draw them for us?’ Callum asks, nervously.
‘I love that idea,’ I say, and his cheeks flush pink.
‘There’s this new programme – CGH5.8. It could be perfect for something like this,’ says Trey.
‘Can you show us?’ I ask, and Trey’s fingers dart around his screen at incredible speed.
‘This will be rough, but okay, describe a monster to me,’ he says.
‘A disgusting blue blob with an iron for a head, and electric eels for arms,’ says Leon, grinning.
‘Don’t make it easy for me, will you, mate,’ Trey says, shaking his head, but he pulls out his digital pen and sketches what Leon’s described. Then from his tablet, a 3D hologram of the image shines out into the room. It’s impressive.
‘Wow, that is so gene,’ says Dominique.
Trey keeps scribbling, and the hologram monster moves its arms up and down. ‘It will be even better when I have time to prepare,’ he tells us. ‘I can do more detailed drawings. With more cameras, we could present it in 4D.’
We all clap Trey and he blushes, then adjusts his beret. As we explore the idea, everyone in the room has something to contribute and a palpable buzz starts to build around the table.
‘This is it,’ I say, looking at Michael.
‘This is it,’ he agrees.
That afternoon, Trey asks if he can use my office – it’s the only room big enough for him to experiment with this new technology – so I decide to go home early and work from there. Now that we have a concept, I want to write everything up, try to hone the format.
But once I’m set up in my home office, I look down at the picture of Sam on my desk and my mind fills with thoughts of him, of his body, of his hands running up my back last night before we were interrupted. Knowing he is just twenty yards away in his studio proves to be a major distraction. As I’m trying to write a pitch document, my mind wanders to Sam’s lips, Sam’s hand, Sam’s . . . Maybe I’ll just go and say hi to him, then I’ll be able to focus, then I can start to work properly. Yes, that’s definitely the mature thing to do.
‘Hey, I brought you tea,’ I say, knocking as I open his studio door.
Sam looks surprised to see me but takes off his earphones and smiles, running a hand through his thick hair. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, exposing his lean, toned forearms, and a dark smattering of hair. What is it about good forearms on men? Like, I want to arm wrestle him and I want to lose. With his sharp jawline and ready smile, he’s ridiculously attractive. Even though he’s tired, his eyes always seem to play somewhere on the edge of mischief. ‘Sorry, I’m interrupting.’
‘You’re not interrupting,’ he says, taking the mug from my hands.
‘So, I pitched the idea, and everyone loved it. There’s plenty to do, but it feels good to have something to work on.’
‘That’s great news, well done.’ He grins up at me, and I loiter at the door, unable to make myself leave.
‘Can I stay and watch you work for a bit, see what it is you do?’ I ask him.
‘Sure, be my guest,’ he says, indicating a leather armchair in the corner of the room. Then he pushes his sleeve up and shoots me a bashful look over his shoulder. ‘I’m self-conscious now.’
‘Pretend I’m not here.’
He turns on a screen and a scene from a movie starts to play. A man and a woman are holding hands, confessing their love for one another beneath a night sky full of dancing green auroras.
‘What’s this?’ I ask.
‘Meet Me in Oslo, a romantic comedy I’m scoring. This is the climactic scene where the leads confess their feelings for one another. I can’t get the tone right.’
‘I rarely notice the music in movies,’ I admit. ‘Is that bad?’