Falling into Forever (Falling into You) - By Lauren Abrams Page 0,1

sitting in a chair outside of a glossy conference room that’s decked out in rich mahogany. I manage to extract myself from Jeff’s grip and I rush towards her. Her face lights up when she sees me; she knew my trepidations about this silly meeting and probably figured I wouldn’t show up.

Jeff gives her a long, lecherous look up and down before turning his attention back to me. “You two probably need a minute to talk. But don’t take too long. I’m not used to being kept waiting.” The flash of his smile reveals even rows of too-white teeth.

Again. So gross.

I shake it off and turn to Eva, who wraps me in a tight embrace.

“Hallie.”

“You clean up well,” I say, eyeing the red suit and elegant chignon.

She means business, then. She looks nothing like the woman in blue jeans and a ratty sweatshirt who sat for long hours with us on our porch, talking about characterization and prose and the need for more action and less talking.

That was three years ago, I realize suddenly. It feels like yesterday and a lifetime ago at the same time.

“How are you holding up?” she whispers, putting a strong arm around my shoulders.

“I’ll be fine.” It’s true. I will be fine, just as soon as I can get out of this hellhole.

“Look, I’m going to play hardball a bit in there. FFG wants this screenplay so badly that they’re practically salivating for it. This, my dear, is because they know it’s going to be the next blockbuster. They would be fools to let us walk out of the door without locking you down for the whole enchilada.”

She’s looking at me like she expects some kind of reaction, but I give her my best stony stare instead, which makes her laugh.

“Hallie. Do you even care about any of this?”

I don’t think she actually wants to hear my answer to that question.

Undeterred, she continues, punctuating her words with a little smirk. “Just to recap, in case you forgot the details or neglected to read any of the thousand memos that I sent you, FFG wants the rights to the first book and they want to take the screenplay as is, although they’ll probably add another writer. They’ll want to make it more commercial, to add the taglines that will be printed on the merchandise. That’s how these things are done.”

I nod, but I don’t think I’m doing a very good job of pretending to care, because Eva’s checking my face carefully, as if she wants to make sure I’m not going to crumble right in front of her. I stand up straighter and try to focus on her words.

“They want the rights to the rest of the trilogy, too, but they’ve been fuzzy on the details so far. Lightgate is offering a guarantee that they’ll make all three movies. We can meet with them tomorrow, if we’re not getting what we want here. And you know that there are other offers on the table, too.”

My eyes glaze over. “This has to be over today. No more meetings.”

She gives me a wicked little grin. “Well, maybe if my favorite client even tried to look at any of the contracts I send over, she would have some idea of which deal she actually wanted. Maybe then, we wouldn’t have to schedule so many meetings.”

I frown. She raises her eyebrows. This is an old dance between the two of us. And probably a good illustration of why you shouldn’t do business with friends.

“I do read the contracts,” I say, a little too defensively. Kind of. I definitely took a good look at the cover of the last one. Right before I threw it into the trash can.

“Sure.” She’s still skeptical, so I give her my best innocent face, which elicits a small grin. “We’re talking millions and millions of dollars, Hal. Maybe more than that, if we play our cards right. It’s wise to make sure that we’ve considered all of the options.”

“I know, Eva. And I’m grateful for your help. I really am. I just hate New York and I’m being a giant baby about this whole thing.”

“You won’t get any argument about that from me.” Still, her face softens slightly. “Did you at least manage to get a decent meal last night? We do have some of the best restaurants in the world, you know.”

I had ordered room service and stayed in my room with only bad reality TV for company, but I don’t tell her that.