Page 5 of Between Then and Now
“Anyway, how’s work, Bonbon?” he asks as we order through the window.
“Terrible,” I exclaim with a dramatic sigh. Ryan raises an eyebrow inquisitively, prompting me to vent further. “I feel like a glorified errand girl. It’s all ‘fetch this type of paper, photocopy that, churn out a dozen copies of this document’. Add a watermark here, grab some props there—you name it. Basically, every task that screams ‘no creative input needed’.” I roll my eyes dramatically. “Not to mention, my boss Natasha is probably Satan’s spawn, or Satan himself in human form.”
I work as a film producer at a local studio specializing in indie films and documentaries. I just graduated so I expected to start small, but I didn’t anticipate feeling so sidelined.
“And don't even get me started on the coffee runs,” I continue, my tone laced with sarcasm. “I'm convinced they send me out just to test my knowledge of every barista's life story within a ten-kilometer radius. Newsflash, I don’t need to know that Dana from the cafe down the road just found out she’s pregnant with twins, and that the smell of coffee is now something that she repels.”
Ryan claims our coffee from the window and hands me my iced caramel latte. “It feels almost wrong to give you coffee now; looks like you’ve already had more than a year’s share,” he says.
“Ry, I buy coffee. For other people. I barely get one for myself.” I shrug as I poke the straw through the lid. I look over to his order and see that it’s a plain black coffee. I chuckle to myself, but Ryan notices.
“Why?” he asks, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Nothing. Just… this is so on-brand for you,” I say, pointing to his cup.
“What is? Coffee?” He glances at me with eyebrows furrowed.
“No, black coffee. It fits the whole vibe you have going on there.”
“What vibe?” His eyebrows now look so confused.
“The whole Count Dracula meets Captain America vibe. You know. Mysterious and quiet. And brooding. Like... Edward Cullen! Yes! That’s exactly who you are.” I snap my fingers in recollection, then I sip some coffee. Some good, sweet, creamy coffee.
“The sparkling vampire?” he asks, his tone flat.
“I’m surprised you know, Miller.” I nod approvingly. “But yeah, that.”
“I know because the guys and I sat through endless reruns of the Twilight Saga with the four of you fighting over vampires and werewolves—none of which looked remotely like the ones usually displayed in fiction. Sparkling. Tsk.” He shakes his head slowly as he takes another sip of coffee.
“For Edward Cullen, you’re quite the complainer.” I make a face.
“I’m not—” Ryan sighs and frowns. I chuckle because it’s too easy to toy with him and annoy him. He looks at me frustratingly and says “Anyway. Enough about coffee judgments and sparkling vampires. Did you ask them?”
“Huh? Ask who about what?” I ask, suddenly distracted. I’m convinced that good coffee is an actual drug that can change the way a person thinks or feels, especially in the morning when the brain doesn’t want to work yet. Although there’s also a very possible reason that I forgot what we were discussing because I have the attention span of a toddler.
“Your bosses. If there are projects you can get involved in.” Right. We were talking about my job.
“Oh yeah, they said I should just wait a while since I had no credible productions yet that they can refer to.” I shrug. It’s annoying how I’m expected to stay on the sidelines because I have no credible productions, but the only way I can get credible productions is to wait for their advice. I frown at the irony.
“Then maybe you can ask them if you can work on one. While waiting for an opportunity,” he says. We stop at a red light, and Ryan adjusts the straps of his watch to fit him better.
“I never really thought of that…” I admit. “Can I do that?” I ask.
“I don’t see why not.” Ryan shrugs. “Besides, if you can’t, then at least you tried, right?”
“Huh. You’re right, maybe I should ask that. I could produce a short film or a documentary of some sort. I have the camera and the editing tools. Yeah, I could do that. To give myself some credibility… I’ll think about it,” I say, more to myself, as if realizing this could be a good idea.
“You’re welcome,” Ryan says and bows his head in a mocking way. “As long as you don’t have sparkling vampires in your film, you’re gonna be golden.”
“I will not tolerate any Twilight slander,” I joke.
We continue our drive, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as the caffeine begins to work its magic. By the time we reach the studio, I feel more energized and optimistic. Ryan pulls up to the entrance and I unbuckle my seatbelt, turning to him with a smile.
“Thanks again for the ride and the suggestion. Edward Cullen would be proud of your chivalry, you know that?” I say with a grin, teasing Ryan one last time before I leave.
He groans playfully. “Don’t start that again.”
“Also, I didn’t spill a single drop. You should be proud of me,” I say, holding up the almost-empty iced coffee like it’s a trophy.
