The Priceless Script

"Can I get one almond milk cappuccino, please," a smoky voice asks.

I look up and see a gorgeous woman dressed to kill. She's holding a pile of papers and puts them down on the countertop.

"Would you like a slice of a red velvet or a croissant with that," I asked while glancing at the papers.

"How did you know red velvet was my guilty pleasure? I'll have a slice."

I didn't want to be nosy but at the same time found it impossible not to ask. "Is that a movie script," I asked abruptly.

"It is indeed."

"May I ask what is it about?"

"It's some apocalyptic thriller based around mutated deers ready to attack humanity."

I keep a serious face, not sure whether she's joking, not knowing what to say.

"That sounds--"

"Ridiculous? I agree. I can't believe people waste their time on such projects. Like, have a little respect for yourself, you know?"

I start slicing up the cake, "Yeah, like at least use a different animal. There's a reason why there are no movies about mutated deers. I mean, seriously?"

"Well, I work for Tomaski Studios, and it is now my responsibility to make this script less awful."

"There are so many other stories worth producing on a bigger scale, stories that inspire people, break stereotypes, spread awareness. Why did they choose this one?"

She smiles, "I agree. Do you write?"

"I once wrote a script for a feature film but never really did anything about it. It was more of a hobby for a while. I'm an actor. I mean, at least that's what I want to be doing instead of foaming milk one day. Clearly, I'm not very successful just yet."

"What was the script about?"

"It was about the struggle of not being able to be yourself and a desire to reach what others consider impossible."

"I'd love to have a read."

"Really," I asked incredulously, almost spilling the coffee on the counter.

"I need to have a look at something fresh. I will drop in tomorrow around the same time. I'm quite an old-school soul, though. Could you print the script out for me?"

"Of course," I said while handing her the coffee and cake.

She points a finger on my name tag, "Milo's a cool name. I'm Jane."

After my cafe shift, I got back home, ready to work on my script. I have never shared it with anyone before. I've never even typed it out on my computer. I only had a handwritten copy in my little black notebook. I sat in front of the laptop and started typing everything out. I spent the entire night making tweaks and improving the story. By 3:30 am, I finished the draft and was so ready for my four hours of sleep.

*

The next morning, before work, I ran to print out my script as requested by Jane. I open the door to the print shop. The smell of new books and magazines is palpable in the air.

"Hi Joe, I need you to print something for me," I said, panting.

"Another audition?" For what show this time? How did the callback go the other day?"

I hand over the USB drive to Joe, "Well, they never called back again so, I assume not so great."

"Don't worry. I have a feeling that this is going to be the one."

"This one's not for an audition. Someone I met at the coffee shop was interested in reading a script that I wrote a long time ago."

"I didn't know you're a writer as well." The pages start popping out of the printer.

"I just thought I'd give it a go."

"You know what, one day you'll stop popping in to print those audition script sides, and I'll think to myself, I wonder how Milo is doing, and then on my way home, I'll see your face on a massive billboard up the road, and I'll know that you're doing just fine. And I'll be convincing myself that this little print shop was a massive contribution to that success."

"You always know what to say, Joe. Thank you."

Joe piles up my pages, staples them, and handles me the script, "Go get them, kiddo."

I'm standing at the counter wearing my barista apron. The script is shyly leaning out from one of the bar's bottom shelves, ready for Jane to collect it.

Suddenly, I see her entering the cafe, "Almond milk cappuccino and a fabulous script, please."

I hunched to grab the script, "Here it is. My phone number and email address are on the front page, in case you need it. Cappuccino's coming."

"Can I ask you something, Milo?"

"Surely," I was as nervous to hear what she had to say as I was excited.

"What do you want? What's your biggest goal?"

I stopped foaming the milk for a moment, "I want to be a part of something special, whether as an actor or maybe even as a writer. I want to create stories that change people's lives."

"I like that. Looking forward to reading the script," Jane said, grabbing the coffee cup out of my hand.

Watching her leave, I felt at that moment as if anything was possible.

It's already evening time, warm colors of sunset enter the cafe. The rest of my shift went by really fast. I started cleaning up the fridges when I heard my name.

"Milo!!! Where are you," Jane screamed.

I looked up to see Jane walking towards me, holding a document and a briefcase in her hands, "Jane! Hi. What are you--"

"Read it," she says while putting the document down on the counter.

"What is that?"

"A twenty thousand dollars contract."

"Is that for--"

"Your script? Yes. The executives loved it. It is exactly the type of story they were looking to produce. They offer you twenty thousand dollars in cash for the rights to your feature film draft."

I read through the contract and then opened the briefcase full of money, "Wow... Twenty thousand? I don't even know what to say..."

"They don't do that often, Milo."

"And if I sign this I..."

"The money is yours. We'll talk about the details tomorrow. Are you free for a meeting at noon? The executives want to ask you a few questions."

"Sure. Of course. I'll be there."

Jane pulled out an extra copy of the contract from her bag, "The address is at the bottom of the page. Here's a copy for you. I need to call within an hour to let them know your decision. I know it all feels a bit hectic, but you have to decide now. Are you going to sign?"

I don't know if it was the money or Jane's energy, but I could not resist. It felt like an opportunity of a lifetime. I signed the contract.

"Fabulous. The money is yours," Jane grabbed one of the copies and moved towards the exit.

"Hey, Jane! What should I prepare for the meeting?"

"Nothing creative. The executives will ask you some questions and give you more paperwork to sign," she said enthusiastically.

The doors shut, and I immediately thought, "Oh, no. They don't need me. They only want the script." Owning twenty thousand dollars felt good but losing the rights to my script left me feeling empty.

The next morning, I get off the bus and head towards the address on the envelope. Suddenly, I find myself in front of a massive gate with a Tomaski Studios sign.

A security guard asks for my name and who I'm meeting and lets me in.

I see Jane waving at me from the office entrance. I follow her upstairs to a conference room. A bunch of folks is sitting at the table.

"Everyone, this is Arlo. The author of My Little Mirage."

"Hello, Arlo. Well done on the script! Have a seat," said one of the guys.

We started looking through the rest of the paperwork. Surprisingly, the questions that the executives were asking were purely money and contract-based. Not even one question was about my script. I felt like I needed to say something, so I did.

"The contract is clear, and your offer very generous, especially considering I am not even a professional writer." I paused, unsure how to break it to them, "Let me get to the point. I want to play Arlo in the film. I wrote the script based on my own struggles and experience. The story of Arlo is very personal to me. I am a professionally trained actor. It would mean the world to be able to play an active part in this production."

"Unfortunately, we already have someone in mind for the role of Arlo. And he's an, well, an A-list actor. As you mentioned before, we offer you a generous proposal," said one of the executives.

"What if I give you the money back? I don't need to get paid for the script, as long as I'm the one playing the leading role. I don't require the money. All I want is to play Arlo. I can audition here and now with Arlo's monologue from the script."

Everyone exchanged quick looks. Finally, one of the gentlemen sighs and says, "Right. Let's see what you got then."

I stood up and walked away from the table to the back of the room. It was the only chance to impress them. I took a deep breath and started.

"All this time, you pretended you didn't see me. You know what? Forget everything I said. I don't need you, and you know that. And now what? Am I supposed to sacrifice myself? For who? For you? After years of you being awful to me? There's only one person that you care about, and it's you. You made me hate myself. You made me doubt everything unique about me. And now you dare to ask for help? I need to learn to say no," I swallow the tears and continue much more confident, "So, no. You don't deserve my support. I somehow survived without yours for seventeen years. Find help somewhere else. Maybe one day, you'll finally realize that there's absolutely no point in living life with no love. Perhaps then you'll change. For now, you're hopeless."

I finished the monologue. Everyone is silently staring at me.

"We would like to speak in private now," said one of the executives, "Would you mind waiting outside for a little while?"

"Not at all." I grabbed my bag and left the room.

I sat in the corridor thinking, "I should've said that instead. It was more powerful the last time I did it. What if the producers hated it? It's too late. All I can do now is wait."

Minutes feel like hours. I am so nervous I can barely move.

Finally, Jane opens the door with a serious face, "They're ready for you."

I walk in and take a seat in the same spot.

One of the executive producers starts speaking, "It's a shame--"

My heart stopped.

"It's a shame for that coffee shop. They'll lose a great employee."

I'm too nervous to understand, "What do you mean?"

I see Jane smiling at me from the back of the room.

"You just got the role, Milo. You will play Arlo in My Little Mirage. Keep the money for the script. There's a lot more coming for your acting!"