Chapter 94: Daily Work Routine 2

Chapter 94: Chapter 94: Daily Work Routine 2

Over the next few days, Irene Coppola’s feet barely left the preparation base in Burbank.

On Wednesday morning, the moment she walked into the stunt vehicle testing grounds, her leather shoe landed in a half-dried oil stain. Sunlight slanted across the modified wide-body of the Mini Cooper.

The head of the mechanical team was crouched beneath the car, adjusting the brake lines. When he saw her approach, he stood at once. "Director, the three delayed cars are all tuned. Would you like to test the brake response?"

Irene bent down and tapped the reinforced roll cage, her fingertips brushing the hood, which was still warm. A trace of exhaustion edged her voice. "No need for a test. Just give me the braking data. It has to be filed by this afternoon."

The preparation for The Italian Job was more involved than all three of her previous films combined. Lately, every night before bed, she ran through the day’s work in her head to make sure nothing had been overlooked. Her dreams had been restless because of it.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. The name "Adelaide" flashed on the screen. Irene stepped to the corner of the grounds and answered. ℴℴ𝘮

Cheers poured through the receiver, almost drowning out the crisp pop of a champagne cork. "Irene! Forty-seven million in the opening week! Hitting a hundred million is just a matter of time. We’re throwing a celebration party next Friday, and I’ve already booked the venue!" Adelaide’s voice was radiant with elation.

After all, Earth Battlefield, led by Beard, had been a disaster. It was pulled from theaters before it finished its run. The losses left his face dark for two solid months, and it wasn’t until Mean Girls opened that things began to improve.

And for Adelaide Griffin, Irene’s Mean Girls had been her first project after stepping into her new role. A twenty-million-dollar investment with a North American box office on track for at least a hundred million was the kind of result that let her hold her head high in the company.

Irene watched the stunt cars practicing drifts in the distance. The corners of her mouth lifted almost imperceptibly before she smoothed her expression.

"I can’t make it to the celebration party." She cut Adelaide off, her tone calm but firm. "Venice just added new clauses to the filming permit, and the art department still has to revise the set construction plans. I can’t get away."

"Are you crazy? This is worth celebrating!" Adelaide’s voice shot up.

Irene closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her temples. Her nerves, taut from days of work, throbbed at the volume. "I know it’s important, but we only have a seven-day window for The Italian Job. After we finish the Venice scenes, we’ll have plenty of time to celebrate."

Before she hung up, she heard Adelaide mutter, "What a workaholic." Irene shook her head, helpless. By the time she turned around, focus had settled over her face again, and she walked briskly toward Anna, who was waiting with the concept drawings.

"The sample for the driving suit is ready," Anna said, holding out the hanger, her eyes bright with anticipation.

The stitching along the pocket’s edge was loose, at odds with the sharp, streamlined feel of a racing suit. Irene’s brows knit instantly. She prodded the stitching. "This needs to be resewn. Reinforce it with nylon thread. The props will shift during action scenes, and we’ll get continuity errors."

Anna started to explain that "the factory was in a rush," but Irene picked up a marker and drew a straight line across the sample. "Re-edge it here. I want the revised version by tomorrow morning. It can’t interfere with the actors’ costume fitting." Her tone left no room for argument. Anna swallowed her words and nodded quickly.

At six in the evening, Vera Cecil checked her phone. "Director, Adelaide sent another message. She says the celebration party can be rescheduled."

Irene nodded. Fox was also an investor in The Italian Job. They had no reason to sit back and watch her shoulder the work alone, much less hold her back.

She swiped to the Venice shooting schedule and pointed to a line. "Move the actors’ costume fitting to the afternoon of the day after tomorrow. Make sure it doesn’t conflict with Martin’s equipment testing."

"Understood."

"Want to grab dinner together?" Irene suggested. She had been busy lately and usually ate on the run. It was only six. Still early.

"Uh, I..." Vera hesitated.

A thought struck Irene. "Finally going on a date? Got a boyfriend?"

Vera waved her hands at once. "No, no, no, I don’t. What do you want for dinner, boss? How about a Hong Kong-style tea restaurant? I’ll book a table." She turned away with her phone.

Seeing that guilty look, Irene couldn’t help but find it amusing.

But after the amusement faded, she sighed softly. Vera already had a boyfriend.

Come to think of it, Vera’s job was far busier than her own. Irene was responsible for decisions and issuing orders, while Vera ran between departments, turning each idea into reality. The workload wasn’t even close.

Yet somehow her love life was running smoothly. Not only had she found a boyfriend, but one who didn’t complain about her schedule at all.

Looking at herself, Irene couldn’t help but sigh. Had the matchmaker forgotten to tie her red thread?

The two drove into a familiar restaurant.

Steam rising from the shrimp dumpling baskets fogged the window glass. The clamor of voices, wrapped in the aroma of soy sauce and garlic, rushed toward them. For the first time in days, the tension in her nerves eased.

"How’s work lately? Any problems?" Irene picked up her teacup, her tone softer than it was in the office.

Vera’s hand paused mid-order. A complicated look flickered in her eyes before she spoke frankly. "Overall it’s been smooth, but I was frustrated yesterday when I coordinated with the location manager for the Los Angeles exterior shoot."

She stirred the lemonade in front of her, unwillingness in her voice. "I sent the filming requirements list three days in advance, but when I got to the site, they hadn’t cleared it as requested. They even said, ’Female directors are always this particular.’ The implication was nothing but perfunctory."

Irene’s brows drew together slightly. This kind of implicit bias was something every woman fighting her way through Hollywood might encounter. She’d just been lucky enough to have the Coppola name shielding her, so she hadn’t faced much of it.

"Don’t waste your anger on them. Next time, drop my name directly, or have Charles handle it. They won’t dare brush off a producer."

"Honestly, it’s understandable. Female directors make up less than a tenth of Hollywood," Vera sighed.

Then she perked up again. "But thankfully, the USC alumni network is reliable. The last time I needed a location coordinator in Venice, I reached out through the alumni group. As soon as they heard we were from the same school, their attitude changed immediately. They even helped us secure extra filming time."

At the mention of USC, warmth filled Irene’s chest.

"Our school’s resources really are a treasure," she said, setting down her teacup. "Have you ever thought about it? A lot of our female alumni still face real difficulties. Maybe you could pull some resources together." After all, anyone who got into USC had a solid foundation, even at their lowest.

And there were even more who had talent but couldn’t find a mentor.