‘But I guess she still feels bad about dumping me,’ he says. ‘One of her producer friends was looking for someone to do this stint on a film and she mentioned my name, not in an official agent capacity. And it turned out he was a fan of my first film so … they offered me the job.’
‘Did you tell them you couldn’t do it because you had a job already?’
‘We’re still officially on trial,’ he says.
‘That’s not the point, Art!’ I say. ‘I thought you’d … I thought you were committed toNorthside!’
‘I told you I was committed to getting these anniversary episodes done,’ says Art. ‘But this is afilm, Annie! You know I couldn’t dismiss working on a film again.’
‘Is it a good film?’
‘The script won the Promises Award,’ says Art.
It takes a moment before I remember that’s the prize hisGrand Musicscript won before it sold to a producer.
‘Oh well, then ithasto be good,’ I say.
‘It’s got potential,’ says Art. ‘It’s … interesting.’
‘So why didn’t you tell me about it?’ I say. ‘If it’s so interesting?’
‘Why do you think?’ he says.
‘I don’t know, Art!’ I say. ‘That’s why I’m asking.’
‘Jesus, Annie, we’ve been in crisis mode all month!’ says Art. ‘It’s been one disaster after another. I didn’t want to add another issue into the mix. And most importantly, I didn’t even know if I was going to take the job.’
‘Well, you were hardly going to say no, were you?’ I say. ‘Not to afilm. Not after you’ve been slumming it atNorthsidefor three whole weeks. They should give you another award just for putting up with us plebs.’
Art folds his arms. ‘You’re not being fair.’
‘I’mnot being fair?’ All our squabbling up until now has been like a pillow fight in comparison to this. The irritation I felt when he read my script or when I discovered he was too embarrassed to use his real name is nothing to the rage I’m feeling now. I’ve been bottling up my emotions all week and I can’t stop them coming out. ‘I’m not the one who was banging on about what brilliant work we’ve been doing and how greatNorthsidecould be, while all the time you were planning to fuck off to America without saying a word! You found out about this offer nearly two weeks ago, Art. Twoweeks! You couldn’t have found an opportunity to tell me over the last two weeks?’ I suddenly remember something. ‘You were reading it in the office on Friday morning, weren’t you?I saw you reading a script and you slammed your laptop shut. You could have said something then!’
Art doesn’t deny it. ‘You don’t understand,’ he says. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘No, I understand perfectly,’ I say. ‘You never wanted to work atNorthside. You were so ashamed of it you didn’t use your own name. Well, now you’re free. You can be the pretentious, arrogant old Art Sullivan all the time now. Good for you.’
‘Yeah, good for me,’ says Art. ‘Do you really think this is an easy decision?’
‘Of course I do!’ I say. ‘Were you even going to tell me about it, by the way? Or was I just going to show up for work one day and realise you were never coming back?’
‘Jesus, of course I was going to tell you! What do you take me for?’
‘I dunno,’ I say. ‘I’m starting to think I was right about you all along. Back when I used to call you Director Dickhead.’ I practically snarl the last two words.
Art’s eyes widen. ‘When did you dothat?’
‘In college,’ I say. ‘When you literally laughed in my face for wanting to write for soaps. I thought you’d changed since then. But clearly not.’
I’m so angry I realise my hands are clenched into fists.
‘Right.’ Art looks back at me, his jaw set. ‘Any more insults?’
I furrow my brow in mock thoughtfulness. ‘Nah,’ I say. ‘That’s about it.’
‘Great,’ says Art. ‘Then I’m going home.’
‘Good idea,’ I say. ‘Unless there’s anything else you’ve been keeping from me?’