Chapter 49: Sour Cheese

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Mia told them about her afternoon.

The night before, Lisa had called the motel and said she planned to visit several producers who might be interested in the script. She wanted the writer there with her.

That morning, Mia took time off from the supermarket. By noon, she was at Lisa’s office.

The producer meetings took only three hours. With the afternoon open, Mia followed Lisa downstairs into Century City for manicures, then shopping.

Mia had barely bought new clothes in two years. After Nolan’s father left the family with crushing debt, life had become smaller, tighter, and more humiliating by the month.

Lisa saw all of it.

She bought Mia a salon card, took her through stores, and did it carefully enough not to make it feel like charity. Everything, Lisa insisted, could be counted as an advance against the script’s future payment.

Mia tried to refuse.

Lisa was very good at not being refused.

By dinner, the two women had become startlingly close. They were near the same age, both single mothers, both carrying work problems and private disappointments. Mia cursed Nolan’s father. Lisa complained about Rice. One topic led to another, and by the time the evening ended, they sounded like old friends.

"At our age," Mia said, eyes closed, "every day is work, bills, and survival. Meeting someone you can actually talk to is not easy. We met because of the script, but even if we never work together again, having her as a friend is already rare."

To Mia, the script had brought them together.

Nolan knew the real reason was him.

Even so, he did not think Lisa would spend an entire evening with Mia only as a tactic. Most likely, they genuinely did get along.

That made the situation more complicated.

"Oh," Mia added, "Lisa said that after the season, we should all go to Hawaii together."

Nolan glanced at Katherine.

Thankfully, she did not look upset.

"She also said Nolan should come to her office tomorrow," Mia continued. "Something about discussing commercial sponsorship possibilities."

That was not a discussion.

That was an application process.

"Be on time," Mia said. "She is incredibly busy. I think she took thirty calls today. If it works out, Katherine might benefit too."

"I do not have Nolan’s talent," Katherine said, embarrassed.

Nolan understood what Lisa was doing.

Soon, Lisa would not merely orbit his life. She would begin entering Mia’s and Katherine’s.

The advantages outweighed the drawbacks. Lisa was successful, connected, and capable of opening doors that no one in the motel could reach.

The price was that she would appear more often.

Her role would also change.

That did not sound entirely bad.

If anything, it sounded more dangerous.

More exciting too.

...

Nolan brought up another matter with Mia.

"Food companies?" Mia asked. "I do not have contacts like that. I know a hot-dog vendor who sells outside Disneyland sometimes. He also parks near the supermarket now and then. Why?"

"The school approved a charity sale under the team’s name. We need food. We also need drinks and portable coolers."

"Those backpack coolers usually carry beer," Mia said. "You may be better off with drink dispensers at the stadium. There is a small restaurant beside the supermarket. If you want to use their equipment, they will probably charge rent."

"Mia, this is charity," Nolan said. "What happened to society? Are people this cold now?"

Mia laughed despite herself.

"Then you can persuade them."

At least the sale goods had a starting point. That was only the first step. Nolan had other classmates to meet tomorrow.

Katherine asked more about the script.

Mia said one development executive from a video distributor had shown stronger interest than the others.

"He is trying to convince the company," Mia said. "If that goes well, they may buy it directly. But I would have to revise it. They want me to expand the sex worker’s storyline, make that case central, include at least five minutes of direct scenes, add more nudity, make the younger detective a woman, push an affair with the older detective, include at least two sex scenes, and change the ending so the victim is the older detective, not the person whose death breaks the younger detective."

Nolan understood at once.

They wanted to turn a prestige crime thriller into a blood-and-skin cult title for the video market.

That version might sell quickly. It might even bring cash faster.

It would not make Mia’s name.

Nolan only knew fragments about the future version in his memory: major actors, director, reputation. Not enough to reconstruct every industry move.

’How could he convince Mia and Lisa to keep looking for a better buyer?’

...

"Mia stopped writing because her morning sickness with you was brutal," Lisa said the next day, chin propped on one hand as she watched Nolan. "That was nearly twenty years ago. She has not done creative writing since."

Lisa knew the exact reason and timing.

Mia really had talked.

"In other words, she is a new writer," Lisa continued. "A first-time writer whose first script has a distributor willing to consider buying it. That is enormous luck. I have shown it to at least fifty producers, people I know and people I barely know. I can swear on my career: right now, this is the best option."

Lisa thought Nolan objected to the price.

"That said, interest is not a contract. We do not know whether they will commit or whether Mia’s revised draft will satisfy them. I will keep reaching out. I will push for the best deal I can."

"I do not doubt your effort," Nolan said. "I am grateful for what you are doing for Mia. For me too."

Lisa’s expression softened.

She had not done it for payment. Still, his gratitude made the work feel worth something.

"That is enough."

She rose, locked the office door, and sat on the sofa near her desk.

Nolan noticed the darker black nylon stockings first.

Then she slipped off her shoes and rubbed one foot.

"I spent the morning walking between a Grisham publishing call and a studio meeting," Lisa said. "Never wearing heels this high again."

She caught his gaze and smiled.

"Come here, big boy."

Nolan did.

"Come on."

Her voice went softer.

He sat beside her.

Lisa placed both feet in his lap.

"You were staring," she said. "Take responsibility."

The silver designer pumps were beautiful and clearly murderous. They also trapped heat. When Nolan leaned close, the smell was sharp, rich, and embarrassingly specific.

Sour cheese.

His mind supplied cheese-flavored Doritos before he could stop it.

"Hungry?" Lisa teased. "Want a snack?"

Nolan tickled the sole of her foot.

She broke into laughter.

The laughter shifted quickly into something warmer. They were pressed close when someone knocked.

An unexpected visitor.

Rice.

Lisa’s panic was immediate. She had not decided how to introduce Nolan to her son.

She shoved Nolan under the desk.

Rice entered and began unloading the disasters of his week.

"Dad is in trouble," he said. "You know the oil operator tied to the BHHS drilling site? The one my father works with? He got connected to the education group through the athletic director. They were college friends. The athletic director took his hospitality all the time..."

Rice spoke in broken pieces. Then he mentioned that he had hit a "deer" the previous night.

Under Lisa’s relentless questioning, the truth came out.

After a party, Rice had driven drunk, hit a person, and fled.

Lisa’s disgust turned into a roar. From the way she sounded, this was not the first mess Rice had dragged to her door.

In the end, just to make him leave, she told him to call her lawyer.

Before going, Rice added that he planned to return to the team soon.

He also intended to watch Nolan’s next game.

When the door closed, Lisa stood still for several seconds.

"This is the last time I help him," she said. "I am so tired of that idiot."

Then she looked at Nolan.

"You are ten thousand times better than him."

The interruption had not cooled her. If anything, it had sharpened the hunger in her.

She guided Nolan into the chair.

"Hold the arms," Lisa said, giving him a small wink.

Then she went down to her knees.

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