Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 151085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
Each of her physical features is remarkable.
And completely irrelevant.
If all it took was a pretty girl, I could have cast this part six months ago. Dessi Blue requires more than a pretty face.
I want that light Neevah lets out when she sings. I want that conviction behind every word she spoke onstage. I want that little volcano of a woman to erupt on my set. I want everything she has to give because I knew immediately she was one of those who gives everything. And I’m the man to get it out of her. The right director (me). The right story (mine). And she’ll be touted as a rare talent. It didn’t take me all night to know that. I knew it right away.
And it’s never happened to me before. Not like this.
“Her ass won’t tell my story,” I respond after a few seconds. “The studio wasted all that money and time looking for Dessi the last six months and I found her making her Broadway debut. Randomly.”
“Not sure they’ll agree. What did Mallory think?”
“Let’s just say she’s skeptical. She’s never heard of Neevah, so of course she’s got reservations.”
“You mean that Galaxy won’t trust a budget that big on an actress no one knows on the strength of . . . what? Your gut?”
“Don’t underestimate this gut.” I pat my stomach and wink. “It knows. And, yeah. The studio will give some pushback.”
“Forget the studio. You won’t get it past Evan.”
He has a point. Evan won’t be feeling this, trusting the project of a lifetime to an unknown with little to no movie experience.
“You let me worry about Evan. Once he sees her, he’ll agree with me. That’s why I want Mallory to come out here immediately. Catch Neevah onstage this week before that other chick returns from vacation or whatever. Then get a screen test with her as soon as she’s back to doing standby. I don’t want to throw too much at her when she’s got this Broadway thing going on.”
“This Broadway thing is her dream. Were you not listening?”
“Were you? Performing is her dream. That’s what I heard. So you telling me I offer her the starring role in a Black biopic with a monster budget and me directing, and she turns it down to play backup on Broadway? Shiiiiiiit.”
“Do you know you’re a narcissist?”
“Of course. Narcissism comes with the territory. You aren’t the dude who believes he should get millions of dollars to tell a damn story if you aren’t just a little bit of a narcissist.”
“The only thing that saves you from being a complete asshole is your mama raised you right.”
That she did.
Whenever I’m smelling myself, as Mama used to say, her voice in my ear is the dose of humility that reins me in. She tethers me to my past. She prepared me for my future. Everything, anything good in me, Remy Holt put there. Thanks to my first documentary, everyone knows it.
I took all that footage Mama captured, all her sunsets and soliloquies, and bundled them into The Magic Hour, my first professional documentary. It took the grand jury and directing prizes at Sundance. I sailed through that awards season with her as the wind at my back every time I accepted a new, unexpected honor. It was her indomitable spirit that inspired audiences all over the world. Her fierce commitment to art even when her body betrayed her. It was her sage advice lit by the golden hour setting the world on fire that year.
I only wish she’d lived to see it.
“So Mallory is coming,” I say, needing to shift this conversation from something I’m emotional about. Over the years, I’ve become an expert compartmentalizer. This life requires almost unsustainable, singular focus. My therapist earns his keep.
“When’s she flying in?” Monk asks, linking his hands behind his head.
“Her daughter has a recital tomorrow, but goes to stay with Mallory’s ex this weekend. So she’ll come then and can still catch Neevah before she goes back to being understudy.”
It’s criminal, that woman being anyone’s backup, but that’s okay. I’ll fix it.
“You want me to let Neevah know you guys are coming?”
“Hell no. Imma find the darkest corner of the theater to hide in. I don’t want her to know we’re there. Why do you think I ignored her all night?”
“We covered this already. You’re an asshole.”
“That, too, but mostly I didn’t want her to know I noticed her. She would have started auditioning. She would have started acting again. I wanted to see her being.”
“Neevah is fantastic. I don’t think you’re wrong about what she could do with the role. I’m just surprised that since this movie is already a huge financial and commercial risk, you would, on the strength of a single performance, not even on film, cast her in the biggest movie you’ve ever directed.”