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When the phone rang, I was ready for it. I settled myself at my desk, with my list of ideas and requests in front of me, just to make sure I had all of my ducks in a row. I wanted this movie to reflect the book as much as possible, and not become just another bastardized “based on” piece of shit. And I wouldn’t back down on that.

“Dominique Marceaux,” I answered, deciding to keep my pen name rather than divulging my real name.

“Ms. Marceaux, this is Peter Bruce, I’m Head of Productions at Warner Brothers,” a very stiff voice replied. He sounded rather young to have such a prestigious job, but the hard edge in his voice told me he’d probably earned it. “We’re on a conference call with Marcus Johnson, the producer we want to handle the movie, and Orlando Bloom, the actor we have in mind to play Jesse.”

I stopped short, wracking my brains. Orlando Bloom was British, wasn’t he? Jesse was in no way British, although Bloom did have the looks I’d been hoping for. I decided to hold my tongue and see where this went.

“My pleasure, gentlemen,” I said, summoning all of that charm school crap my mother had tried to force down my throat for years. “What can I do for you today?”

“We’d like to talk to you about your book,” Mr. Bruce said, getting right to the point. “I’m sorry we couldn’t meet in person, but we were told you’re under heavy deadlines.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” I said, matching his professionalism. This guy was not going to be easy to work with, and I didn’t want to give him the slightest advantage by sounding unprofessional. “I don’t have a lot of time, so I’d like to get right to the details.”

“Certainly,” another voice said, I’m assuming it was Marcus Johnson, because he didn’t have an accent, like I knew Orlando Bloom did. “The bottom line is, we really love your book, and we’d like to make a summer blockbuster out of it.”

“A blockbuster?” I repeated dumbly, the word barely penetrating the fog in my brain. I’d expected maybe a little indie film to give some hotshot street cred, but never a blockbuster. I cleared my throat to hide my surprise. “I’m listening,” I said.

“We think this story has everything we’re looking for, and we really don’t want to change a whole lot,” Marcus went on, excitement creeping into his voice. “There are some small location changes, for practical reasons, and obviously some things will have to be cut, but we plan to maintain the heart of the novel and give it the attention it deserves.”

“And who are you planning to have adapt the script?” I asked, looking at my list. That was my number one concern, who would be butchering my manuscript.

“Your agent has informed us that you get full script approval, Ms. Marceaux,” Mr. Bruce said gruffly. “So nothing goes on-screen that you don’t approve.”

I put a check mark beside that concern, knowing that it was already taken care of.

“And we were also informed that you want actor approval as well,” Marcus said, somewhat hesitantly. “That’s why we wanted Mr. Bloom to sit in on this conversation, he he’s our top choice for Jesse.”

“That’s fine,” I said, not sure what else to say. So far their top choice hadn’t said a damned word, and it was starting to bother me, like he couldn’t speak for himself. “Mr. Bloom, what do you think of Jesse?” I asked, to bring him into the conversation.

When he answered, he sounded very far away, like the connection wasn’t good. “Jesse is very complex, Ms. Marceaux,” he said in that smooth accent. “I think he needs a delicate touch, because he’s vulnerable, but he’s also somewhat dangerous, so that has to come across as well.”

I hadn’t expected him to give me such a decent answer. I’d certainly have to flush out more details from him, but he’d essentially nailed Jesse’s psyche.

“There’s just one problem,” I said firmly. “Mr. Bloom, no offence, but you’re not American, and Jesse certainly is.”

“We have a dialect coach already lined up,” Marcus broke in. “Orlando has done an American accent before, and he’s eager to do it again.”

“Can’t the man speak for himself?” I sighed, before I could stop myself. I heard someone gasp slightly, but then there was a somewhat pleasant chuckle.

“You’re right, Ms. Marceaux,” Orlando said, still chuckling. “I can speak for myself. I’m willing to work on my accent, to make Jesse as American as he can be.”

“But, and again, no offense, Mr. Bloom, your past roles haven’t exactly been overly dramatic, have they?” I said, feeling my face flush as I questioned the man’s acting chops. He was known for his epics, but I’d never really seen him handle real drama, without a sword in his hand or huge special effects to back him up. There would be nothing like that in this movie, as the book didn’t require them, and I was unsure if he could handle it.

“I’ve done some smaller projects that have given me a chance to stretch myself,” he said, and he didn’t sound at all offended, just eager to please. “And I’ve done some stage work as well that required a lot of hard work and diversity. I think if you give me a chance, I can show you the Jesse you’ve written.”

“As lovely as that sounds, Mr. Bloom, I’m still a little wary,” I said. I moved on to questions about shooting locations and some of the other actors they were looking at, not wanting to come right out and tell Orlando Bloom that I didn’t think he had the ‘chops,’ so to speak, to carry someone like Jesse. I figured I’d tell Olivia later, and she could pass it along. I didn’t want to hurt the guy’s feelings myself.

The phone call lasted an hour, and by the time we were ready to hang up, my whole list had been dealt with, except for Orlando. He’d thrown in comments here and there throughout the conversation, but I really wasn’t any more sure about him than I’d been initially, and that bothered me. He sounded like a perfectly nice man, and he was definitely polite when he addressed me, but something about him just didn’t click with Jesse.

“Well, Ms. Marceaux, do you have any more questions?” Mr. Bruce asked at the end of the conversation. “If so, now’s the time to ask, because I’m faxing this contract to your agent as soon as we disconnect this call.”

“I think we’ve covered everything,” I said, skimming my notes again.

“Peter, Mark, is it okay if I have a few words with Ms. Marceaux alone?” Orlando cut in, just as I was about to hang up. “I don’t think she’s quite sold on me yet, and I’d like to talk to her more about the character.”

“Of course, Orlando,” Marcus said. “Ms. Marceaux, feel free to call me any time if you have questions. We want to keep you very involved in this production.”

I said thank-you and there were two very loud clicks as the two men disconnected themselves from the call.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bloom,” I said immediately, not wanting to waste any more of his time. “I’m sure you’re a great actor, but I just had someone different in mind for Jesse.”

“Call me Orlando,” he said, and I could tell he was trying to get me to let my guard down, to give him a chance, which I wasn’t about to do. I didn’t want him to be Jesse, he couldn’t handle it, and that was that.

“Okay, Orlando,” I said, more firmly this time. “I don’t think there’s anything you can say that will change my mind.”

“Fair enough,” he said. His voice had become louder now that he was the only one on the line, and I was getting a better idea of what it sounded like. It was quite pleasant, though still too delicate for Jesse. “At least let my try, okay?”

“Fine,” I said, leaning back in my chair. I knew I wasn’t going to budge, but it had been an hour already, what was another few minutes?

“I’m getting a rough draft of the script in a few days,” he said. “I know you’re in London right now, and since I am, too, why don’t I stop by and do a bit of an audition for you?”

I froze. He wanted to come to my flat? There was no way in hell I’d allow that. I didn’t even know the man, and I certainly didn’t want him to see that the glamourous Dominique Marceaux was really about 50lbs overweight and scarred on quite a bit of her body.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’ll work for me,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

“Then why don’t we meet somewhere?” he suggested, sounding slightly more desperate at my flat-out rejection.

“I don’t have time,” I said, making sure I sounded forceful, like he was bothering me. I desperately wanted to get off that phone and hide in the comfort of my bedroom with the TV on and a pint of ice cream on my lap. Just the very idea of going out to meet him, or of having him see me at all, made me extremely nervous.

“Please, there’s got to be a way I can convince you that I’m right for this part,” he said, a pleading tone in his voice now. “This is the best book I’ve read in a long time, and I think it’ll be a fantastic movie. I just want to be a part of it.”

I sighed. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and I hated to be so harsh. “Can you do an audition over the phone?” I asked.

“The phone?”

“Yes,” I said, rolling my eyes at his dull response. “When you get the script, call me back, and you can do a reading over the phone.”

“But that’s not really showing you anything,” he protested, confused. “It’d be so much better if I could actually show you what I want to do.”

“No,” I said. “It’s the phone or not at all. I can get an idea of what you’ll do just by hearing the words come out of your mouth. If you want me to accept you for the part, that’s what you’ll have to do. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it, I suppose,” he said, coming off as a bit unsure. “I guess I’ll phone you when I have the script.”

“Fine, I should be here,” I said, knowing full-well I would be.

As soon as we hung up, I called Olivia.

“I want a copy of the script, and I mean yesterday,” I said as soon as she picked up.

“I’m guessing that’s a good thing?” she said slowly, and I could hear her shuffling papers.

“That hotshot actor you mentioned wants to audition for me,” I said, the words sounding silly as they came out of my mouth.

“Why?” she said, puzzled. “He’s already auditioned for the studio, and from what I’ve heard, this guy doesn’t need to audition for anything right now.”

“Do you even know who he is?” I asked, noticing that she hadn’t mentioned his name once.

“Not exactly,” she admitted.

“Orlando Bloom, Olivia,” I said. “They want Orlando Bloom to be Jesse. And I’m not buying it so far.”

“Hmmm, he’s not my first choice, either,” she said, “But he’s a big star, and if they’re planning a massive release, as the contracts indicate, then he’s what they’d need.”

“I just don’t see it,” I said, shrugging. I went into the kitchen for some juice, tucking the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I went. “I mean, he’s cute, sure, but he’s too safe, too little-boy-ish, for Jesse. And he’s out of his element, because there’s not a sword or a bow and arrow to be seen.”

“Come on now, be fair,” she scolded. “He’s done other stuff, too. Nothing as widely known as the big trilogies, but still fairly decent. And a friend of mine saw him on stage last year, when he did some theatre work here, and she said he was actually good.”

“Well, be that as it may, he’s just not my first choice,” I said, putting the juice away, grabbing my glass, and going back into my living room. “But I agreed to let him try to win me over, which is why I need the script.”

“There’s one coming through the fax now, actually,” she said, sounding surprised. “They must have thought you’d want one. The contract is here, too.”

“Nice move, by the way, guaranteeing me script approval,” I said, sitting on the sofa again. “And actor approval was a nice touch, too.”

“I just didn’t want to hear you bitch and moan when they put someone you didn’t like in the damned thing,” Olivia chuckled. “And no author should waive script approval on their books. It’s just wrong.”

“Now all I have to do is convince Orlando Bloom that he’s not right for this movie, and we’ll be all set,” I said, but even as I said it, I knew it would be easier said than done.