Page 18 of It's a Love Story

THE NEXT WORDSI heard him say were “It’s trash.”

It was two days later, Friday, and he was sitting next to Nathan in the conference room where I was supposed to be meeting the team for my new film,Star Crossed.He had his back to the view of the partial Hollywood sign, with the lettersHOcrowding the edge of the frame. He looked up when I walked in and smiled that smile like he was glad to see me. It started in his eyes and then spread throughout his face. Batman on Christmas morning. I probably smiled back.

We both had yet to realize that he’d just insulted me and, more importantly, the first script that I was solely responsible for bringing to Clearwater.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him, tucking my hair behind my ear and wishing I’d worn heels.

“You know each other?” asked Nathan. “Perfect.”

Dan said, “No. We just met. About a hawk.” He seemed totally thrown. “I might be working on this thing. Why are you here?” He was seated next to a woman who I would learn was Amy Halstead, an up-and-coming director.

“It’s my project,” I said.

“This?” He slid it away from himself toward Amy, like it was a bowl of cereal and the milk had gone bad.

I shook Amy’s hand and sat opposite Nathan. I needed a minute that I didn’t seem to have. I scanned the big bowl of peanut M&M’s and the sandwich platter. “Nathan said he was hiring a director. What is it that you do?” I was trying to sound even, businesslike.

“I’d be director of photography.” He looked at Nathan and then back at me. “I was just saying I have some thoughts about the script. It’s so crazy that this is you.” Dan Finnegan. Nathan had told me about a cinematographer he’d wanted to get on a project. He’d won an award for an indie film he made with the great Vinny Banks that I’d never seen and Nathan had loved.

“Jane optioned this script cheap, so I’m open to talking about it. We don’t have to green-light it,” said Nathan.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the wordsYes, we dodidn’t come out.

“I read it very quickly,” Amy said, and I didn’t quite know what that meant.

“It’s just a little light,” said Dan.

“Light?” I asked. He’d said “trash.”

“Maybe trite?” he went on.

Nathan laughed and poured himself a green juice from a pitcher in the middle of the table. It’s a wonder he ever leaves the bathroom. “It’s a love story, Dan,” he said. “Trite is the name of the game.”

“No,” I said. “Sweet and emotional is what we’re going for.”

“Please,” said Dan.

“Please what?”

He smiled at me softly, like he was sorry. Like he didn’t want to say what came next, which happened to be: “This isn’t exactlyThe Notebook.It’s insta-love followed by activities with opportunities for hands to touch, followed by— shoot me—a misunderstanding. I’m sorry, Jane, it’s got no heart.”

If there’s one thing you don’t want to get me started on, it’sThe Notebook. He waits all that time and builds her a house? Come on.“The Notebookis i nsta- love followed by activities.”

“The Notebookis not insta-love. It’s attraction leading to love based on mutual appreciation of particular qualities,” he said.

I looked at Nathan for a reaction. I don’t know when I’d ever debatedThe Notebook, but Dan had gotten something boiling inside of me and I was all in.

I leaned forward a bit. “He sees her and immediately climbs the Ferris wheel,” I said.Like a maniac,I don’t add.

“Because Noah likes Allie’s exuberance and sense of fun, that’s not insta-love.”

“You really know yourNotebook,”I muttered under my breath.

“I do. I’m sorry, Jane, I don’t hate love stories, but they need to dive a little deeper emotionally to grab me. This isn’t that.” He slid the script toward me.

“It isn’t what?” I asked.

“I think he’s telling you it isn’tThe Notebook,”Amy said. “Well, of course it’s notThe Notebook.No one ever said it was.”Dan—I suddenly hated that stupid name. Rhymes with “can” and “fan.” Hit a man with a pan. “OnlyThe Notebook’s The Notebook.”My voice cracked—I remember this. And I was annoyed because we could be disagreeing about any movie, it’s only this one that feels so charged. The end of my total lie of a childhood bedtime story. “And the whole twist in that movie, by the way, is a misunderstanding.” Dan let out a breath and leaned back into his chair like I’d just totally worn him out. “It’s not a misunderstanding, Jane. That was sabotage. By her mother.”

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