There’s not long to go now.

It’s been ten days since Olivia collapsed. Parker still hasn’t found Olivia’s father which means it’s looking more and more likely that I will need to be the donor.

I’ve started preparing. I debated whether to tell Mom and Dad. Parker’s insurance will pay for everything, but I’m going to need regular liver function tests for the next few years, and I’m still on Dad’s health insurance so he’s bound to notice.

They didn’t take it well. Regardless of my good intentions, all they heard was that their daughter was agreeing to undergo a risky operation for her boss’s kid. I left out the bit about me being in love with the boss; they can only handle so much information in one day. They think I’m being foolish, and I can’t blame them for feeling that way. It doesn’t make any difference.

Tami knows the full story and she has my back. I told her everything, partly so she understood why I was doing this, but also so that she’d stop thinking of Parker as a killer. She’s a little nervous too, although I keep telling her that the operation is low risk for me. I’ll be under general anesthesia, so I’ll drift off to sleep and when I wake up it will all be over. Alright, there might be a bit of discomfort for a few weeks, but fortunately, I have a sympathetic boss who is happy with me taking time off work.

I haven’t been in to see Olivia today. I’ll go in later this afternoon. First, I have the small matter of a meeting with an agent.

This should be a huge moment. As a writer, the hard part isn’t selling your script, it’s getting an agent. Agents are like the gatekeepers. Once you have representation, it’s like a sign that you are worthy and people will listen. Even if I don’t end up selling my script, an agent will almost certainly get me a job as a screenwriter on a television show. That’s nothing to be sniffed at.

And yet, I hardly care. I don’t prepare at all for the meeting, and I’m almost late because of traffic. That’s not like me, but it’s hard to be excited about a job when Olivia is in the hospital. Especially because it might mean I can’t be there for her when she recovers.

I’m tempted to skip the meeting right up until the moment I walk into the restaurant where we’ve agreed to meet. The only reason I don’t is that Parker would be pissed at me if he ever found out.

“Kelsie?” I say as I approach a woman sitting alone at a table.

“Yes, hi, Carly. So glad you could make it during such a tough time.”

“It’s not a problem,” I reply. It’s almost like I’m doing her a favor and not the other way around. God knows how Tami managed to arrange this. She denies all involvement, and I didn’t push it too far. She doesn’t know that I haven’t gotten around to sending the script out yet, and she’s the only person who has a copy. I just wish she’d sent out my latest draft.

“I’ve read the script,” Kelsie says, after we’ve ordered drinks. “Obviously, I love it or we wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m sorry about the mistakes. The version you have isn’t the finished product.”

“I don’t care about a few typos. I care about the story, characters, and dialogue. A good movie needs all three of those and they’re equally important. Typos, formatting, and scene construction can all be easily fixed. I’m in the process of finishing my markups, but it’s nothing drastic.”

This is all too good to be true. Every book on screenwriting I’ve read says that you have to write and rewrite your script until you’re sick of it, and even then you won’t get an agent to read it, let alone pick it up. They also say that connections are everything, and apparently, Tami has connections, even though she doesn’t get much work herself.

I’ve somehow stumbled onto an agent who loves my story even with a load of mistakes. I’ve struck gold.

“Is there a chance my script will get picked up?”

Kelsie nods. “Yeah, there’s a chance. This is where I tell you that there’s still a long road ahead of you. The script has to get noticed—that’s where I come in—but it also has to be financed, produced, and released. Those three things should not be taken for granted. Some of the best scripts I’ve ever read have struggled to get financing, or gone through ten directors until the movie studio gives up and pulls the plug.”

“This is never going to be a blockbuster,” I admit. “It’s a low budget movie that might make it to theaters. I don’t have high expectations.”

“That’s where you might be wrong. This could be a big hit, but you’d need to change one major thing.”

“The sex scenes. It needs to be PG-13.”

“Nope,” Kelsie replies. “Films can be R-rated and still make bank these days. With clever marketing, it can even be a selling point. I’m talking about the ending.”

The ending is my favorite part. I made a huge change after my first round of drafts. That’s why I sent Tami back a revised script—I wanted to get her opinion on the ending.

“What’s wrong with the ending?”

“It’s too dark. I mean, it’s brilliant, but it’s dark. If you keep the ending as it is, the movie has a limited audience. That will put a lot of studios off the project.”

“Do you want me to change the ending?”

“The movie will have more chance of getting financed and making big bucks if you give it a happy ending.”

“It wouldn’t be realistic.”

“Since when have movie-goers cared about realism? It’s all about escapism. Give them what they want.”

“I don’t know. Life is dark sometimes. There isn’t always a happy ending.”

“And you don’t have to write one,” Kelsie says. “It’s not a dealbreaker. If you keep it as it is, I will still take you on as a client, and I will work hard to sell your script.”

“But….”

“But it could take a while. And you shouldn’t expect to get paid a life-changing amount for it. Here’s what I’d advise—change the ending. It will still be a good movie, and there’s nothing more exciting than hearing your lines read out on the big screen. You’ll also stand to make more money and then your next project can be darker.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course. Take a few weeks. Wait until all your personal issues have blown over.”

“Thanks.”

“Have you given any thought to television work? I could use this script to get your foot in the door at a couple of networks.”

“That would be good.”

As soon as the meeting is over, I hop in my car and drive over to the hospital to see Olivia. She’s asleep when I show up. Parker is by her side as always. He has to be dragged out of the hospital at night when it’s time to go home, and he’s there again in the morning before she’s woken up.

Olivia has her good moments and bad. She constantly looks tired and doesn’t understand why she has to stay in bed the entire time. We’ve told her it’s something all children do to make sure they’re well enough to go to school like big boys and girls. That has her excited.

“Hey,” I say quietly, as I pull up a chair next to Parker. “How have things been?”

Parker’s about to answer when his phone vibrates in his pocket. “That about sums things up,” he replies wearily, as he takes the phone out of his pocket.

He’s barely been in to the office since Olivia became ill, and he’s passed over as much work as possible to his colleagues. Unfortunately, he’s the boss, and for a sale as big as this one, he needs to sign off on a lot of the disclosures. There’s only so much he can delegate.

“Not long now,” I reply. I’m referring to the sale of the business, but hopefully the same can be said for Olivia. The two weeks are nearly up and Parker hasn’t come close to tracking down Johan Contra, despite putting a few detectives on the case. It’s like he doesn’t exist. If it weren’t for the checks being banked every month, I’d assume he’d given a fake name.

“I’m just grateful electronic signatures are a thing now,” Parker says. “If I had to print this stuff off, I’d have to bring the printer in here with me every day.”

“Are you signing stuff already? I thought you had another week.”

“I do. But assets need to be moved around before the sale can go through, and property transfers need to be authorized in advance. I’m effectively just tidying up before the big transfer of the corporate stock.”

“Good thing you have competent employees. You suck at tidying up.”

Parker smiles and holds my hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” Parker squeezes my hand and I squeeze back. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about Johan?”

“No. Nothing.”

“It’s okay. We don’t need him.”

I hear Parker take a few deep breaths. He’s not used to relying on other people like this. At work, sure, he has people he can count on. However, when it comes to Olivia, he thought he’d be able to keep her safe by himself.

“I can’t ask you to do this,” he says.

“Good thing you’re not asking, then. Anyway, I’ve told my parents now, so we have to go through with it. Otherwise, they’ll think I’m chickening out. Hell, even if you find the father, I’m still having a bit of my liver cut out. I’ll never be able to face them at Thanksgiving otherwise.”

Parker laughs, but only briefly. It’s better than nothing.

“They’ll always hate me,” Parker says. “I’ll be the man who made their daughter have an operation.”

“The second they meet Olivia, they’ll understand. It’s impossible not to help her.”

“She is adorable.”

On cue as always, Olivia stirs and wakes up. Parker slides his phone back in his pocket and ignores every vibration until a nurse comes with her dinner.

I’m ready. There’s not a single doubt in my mind. I’m going to do this.