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“You like my work?” Penny twisted her hands before her body. “Are you just saying that?”
Roman gestured toward the chair. “Take a seat.”
She exhaled a breath through pursed lips. It was working. Her plan would be worth every moment of careful preparation. All Roman had needed was a gentle touch in the right direction to get the wheels spinning. And that light touch had been a teensy white lie about a screenplay.
“Your writing is good,” Roman said finally, pulling his glasses from his face and setting them gently on the desk. “Very promising work, Penny. I’m impressed.”
Her heart leaped like a jackrabbit. “You’re just saying that!”
“Why would I lie to you?” He spread his hands wide. “I promised you honest feedback. Now, there are plenty of things to improve—”
“Oh, I know it’s not perfect.”
Roman smiled patiently at Penny’s interruption, then picked up his glasses and slid them back onto his nose. “I hope you don’t mind, but I printed out the first half and redlined some of it for you. In terms of the bigger, global changes, I thought it might be best if we covered those with a conversation. The red pen is so impersonal.”
Penny nodded, holding her breath.
“Now, Penny, now is the time for you to take out that dreaded notebook and begin scribbling away.”
She spent the next half hour, right up until the start of class, scribbling nonsensical notes into said notebook. Roman offered her candid suggestions to improve pacing and structure. He broached the idea of a big cut at the beginning and a bigger twist at the end. Penny nodded along like she knew exactly what he was talking about.
“I’ve got to get class started,” he said. “However, if you’d like to revise and send it back to me, I’d be happy to take another look.”
“I would be honored,” Penny said and then realized she sounded stupid. “I mean, that’d be awesome.”
Not that it mattered what Penny said, because she wouldn’t be revising anything. It wasn’t exactly her script to revise. She didn’t know what the hell Roman was talking about when he told her to cut the second scene or add suspense leading up to the first twist. Because she hadn’t written a word of it.
But none of that mattered. Some things were more important than the truth. And what really mattered was that her borrowed piece of art had gotten Penny face time with the elusive Roman Tate.
“It’s my pleasure. Moments like this are what roped me into teaching in the first place.” Roman leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Finding inspired students, helping them to discover their creative paths. This industry is bloated with actors, writers, producers who are so focused on the money, the fame, the business. It’s a breath of fresh air to meet someone like you.”
“That’s how I feel! And it’s why I love your class.”
“It’s a challenge to find someone who values the artistic aspects as much as I do. I think we have a lot in common.”
“Oh my God, yes. You know, we even have the same taste in books. I actually own half that shelf there.” Penny waved a hand toward his wall. “The one by Marguerite Hill was a game changer for me. It’s actually the straw that broke the camel’s back.”
“How do you mean?”
“It’s the very thing that prompted me to move out to Los Angeles and”—Penny paused for a dry titter—“you know, Take Charge of my career.”
“Ah, then what I’m about to say next will come as an even better stroke of luck.” Roman stood and shifted his long legs before turning to stare at the book Penny had referenced. “My wife is a publicist. She’s worked with a lot of these authors you see here, including Marguerite Hill.”
“Seriously? That’s amazing. Your wife sounds awesome.”
Roman exhaled, a complex look crossing through his eyes. “That would be one way to describe her.”
The complex look passed, to Penny’s annoyance, as Roman continued listing off his wife’s impressive accolades.
“In fact, my wife is starting her own company and is looking for new clients,” Roman said. “I won’t make any promises, but if you carry on with your work, maybe I can tempt her into taking a look at your portfolio.”
“That would be incredible.”
Penny’s curiosity was piqued. She wanted to know more about Roman Tate’s wife. The woman who had taken Penny’s unsung hero off the market. And if it led to more face time with Roman, so be it.
A mere second later, Roman’s hand landed on Penny’s shoulder and brought her soaring mind back to earth. She was trapped somewhere between head and heart, feeling lost in the messy swirl of it all as Roman leaned close to her.
A funny thought crept into her mind as Roman pushed the script back to her. Poor, poor Ryan Anderson. Maybe Penny should pass along the notes on his script. It was the least she could do for taking creative license and pretending Ryan’s work was her own.
