“They gave the green light to film the rest of the season.” Margot beamed, a sudden shift that appeared to require some effort. “Perfect timing, then, for you to return rested and ready to go. The next few weeks are going to be intense, very time-consuming. You’ll need all your strength, plus your sharp wit and perfect camera face, two attributes Network particularly loved.”
I swallowed. “Actually, I’d like to talk to you about the schedule.”
Vic tried crossing his legs but gave up in the limited space. Avery kept his eyes on the floor.
“We’ll get to the schedule in a moment,” Margot said. She positioned a pair of reading glasses onto her long nose and looked through them at a clipboard on the desk beside her. “First, I want to be clear about the contract.”
“Actually, I want to talk with you about the contract.” I swallowed, getting ready for the nitty-gritty. “You’ll remember I have an escape clause I can invoke at any time.”
“An oversight, I’m afraid,” Margot said, looking at me over her glasses. “Every person on set has signed an airtight contract that commits them to all thirteen episodes but you, Charlie. We were willing to waive it for the first few weeks because Avery insisted you’d be more comfortable if we gave you some space. Less likely to be scared off, if you will.” There was the tight smile again. “Now that we’ve gotten to know you, we know that you are certainly not a fearful woman.”
Vic snorted.
“In fact,” Margot continued, one eyebrow up, “I know now you are a woman who has worked a long time to get to this level and you’re not about to throw it all away.”
I reached for the much-rehearsed phrases I’d practiced that morning in the shower. Something about work-life balance? Or the bit about needing time and space for true creativity? Working only between the hours of noon and midnight, no more fifteen-hour shifts, or extra takes at the end of the night? My thoughts bounced and ricocheted too long because Vic chimed in.
“Charlie, I’ll put this to you plainly. You are the star of this show, and Network wants to fast track what we’re doing so publicity can get a solid jump on a fall release.”
I felt Avery tense next to me.
“The success of the show going forward hinges on you. You drive the plot line, you interest the audience, and the camera loves you.”
“Avery is fantastic, don’t doubt it.” Vic’s tone was placating. “You’re brilliant, Avery, really.”
Avery gave me a wry smile.
“However,” Margot interrupted, “Avery plus Charlie equals something altogether different. In fact, Network specified that shooting can continue only if you, Charlie, are on board and committed to staying there.”
Avery slumped in his chair. I felt my breathing becoming shallow.
Margot removed her glasses and leaned toward me. “You have the potential to do something spectacular here, Charlie. This contract spells it all out.” She pointed to the document topping the pile resting on her clipboard. “You agree to another month of filming and a selection of promotional events associated with marketing the show, and, in return, you receive a hefty check, an opportunity to renew for a second season depending on the ratings, and my personal favorite: an initial investment and licensing for a personal line of bakery products.” She turned to Vic. “Wouldn’t she be perfect on little cupcake liners or scone mixes? The earning potential is huge here.”
“Hold on,” I interrupted. “What about my job? Here, at Thrill? The work is what brought me to Seattle, not a TV show.”
“Of course,” Margot said with a shrug. “You can keep your job. You’ll need it for the show. And,” she said more carefully after seeing the set of my jaw, “after this contract expires, you are free to continue in your role as head pastry chef. You can think about a second season when the time comes, but you can work all the hours you want at Thrill when we are not filming. Correct, Avery?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” His voice shook slightly before he cleared his throat. “Charlie, you know your job here is secure. It can be the beginning of something big, or the final piece. Whatever you want.” Then, as an apparent afterthought, he added, “You and I are a team. A great team. No strings attached.”
I let my eyes linger on him, troubled anew at his willingness to be a chameleon, to change according to whatever wind blew through the room.