Chapter 46: Third-Rate and First-Rate
Bruce's blunt reply stripped away every shred of Bob's pretense, stabbing straight into the darkest corner of his heart.
The fake smile and forced "concern" vanished from Bob's face; it flushed crimson as he shot up from the couch, glaring at Bruce with long-bottled malice.
"Ha! Kindness thrown back in my face! Bruce White!" Bob's voice turned shrill, dripping with undisguised contempt. "Who do you think you are, taking yourself so seriously? Offering you work is doing you a favor! With your mediocre skills?"
He stepped closer, almost nose-to-nose: "What have I always said? Huh! Bruce, you'll never make it as a screenwriter in this industry! Was I wrong? Look at you now—hanging around some tiny coffee shop with these no-name..." (he pointedly swept his eyes over Joey and the others) "...people, not landing a single decent project!"
When Bob finished, Joey and Monica beside him spread their hands and widened their eyes in an "it's-not-our-fault" look of innocence.
But Bob kept up the venomous attacks, savoring a warped "I-told-you-so" satisfaction: "You'll always be a third-rate writer! At Wildcat Productions, in New York, and in Hollywood you're even less than that! Think scribbling a few low-budget scripts makes you a writer? Dream on! Getting you a Miramax interview is pure charity—get it?"
"What—Miramax? You're saying the job's at Miramax?" The name made Bruce ask immediately.
Seeing his tirade fail to upset Bruce, only prompt what he viewed as an irrelevant question, Bob felt dismissed and grew angrier: "Dream on—you've blown it. Now you won't even get the lowest-level script reader position."
Bruce smiled. "But if I walk into Miramax and ask for an interview, there's nothing you can do to stop me, right?"
Bob was momentarily speechless, then snapped back: "Without my referral you'll never land an interview! Give it up, Bruce—quit the business and go work at some greasy spoon diner!"
"Hey," Monica cut in, "that's enough. You're the one who should switch careers—people like you will never write a good story; your heart's filled with envy, deceit, arrogance, bullying, shamelessness, flattery, and hypocrisy. In short, you're a jerk. And FYI, even if Bruce became a chef, he'd be a damn good one!"
"Bob, maybe you should leave—you're not welcome here," Ross said firmly.
"You think I enjoy hanging around with people who associate with Bruce White? Get a job—it's a weekday!" Bob sneered, turning to leave.
He hadn't taken two steps before Rachel called from behind the counter, "Bob!"
He hurried over, beaming at Rachel: "Right, Rachel, how about coffee this afternoon? In Hollywood I knew tons of stars—Tom Hanks and I were practically best friends. Every day at three, even mid-shoot, he'd stop for coffee. Ever since we met he'd invite me for 3 p.m. coffee breaks. Let's have our own 'three o'clock coffee'—I've got loads of Hollywood stories—"
"Bob," Rachel interrupted with a smile, "I just meant you forgot to pay for your coffee."
"Oh, right." Bob slapped down a five. "Keep the change—for your tip. So, I'll pick you up at two tomorrow?"
"Sorry, Bob, I'm one of those people who 'associate with Bruce White'—I'm not worthy of your Hollywood tales," Rachel said coolly.
"Suit yourself—your loss!"
Once Bob was gone, Monica exclaimed, "Oh my God, Bruce, how do you even know someone like that?"
"He came back from Hollywood having learned nothing but Hollywood arrogance—though he was already an insufferable jerk before," Bruce replied.
Ross was still stinging from Bob's comment: "I took a day off—why does he assume I'm unemployed?"
Joey perked up: "Hey, Bruce—he works at Miramax. Want to come with me in a couple of days?"
"Absolutely. In his rage he let slip he works at Miramax—so I'll drop by and see how this 'first-rate writer' operates," Bruce said.
Three days later, at Miramax, Bruce accompanied Joey to sign his contract and do his screen test.
The studio was blazing with lights. Quentin sat behind a monitor adjusting equipment; spotting Bruce and Joey, he waved them over. As Bruce approached, Quentin said excitedly, "Hey, Bruce—great news: Juliette Binoche just agreed to play Shosanna!"
Bruce's eyes lit up. "That is great—but she's in France; how'd you close the deal so fast?"
"Besides Inglourious Basterds, we're also prepping the epic The English Patient, produced by Harvey's brother Bob Weinstein. He'd been courting Juliette forever and finally got her to fly to the States yesterday!" Quentin lowered his voice, still thrilled. "So while the French beauty's in New York, Harvey and I gave her both our Inglourious script and The English Patient—guess what happened?"
"She took both films?" Bruce asked.
"No—scheduling conflict; she could only pick one. She read both scripts and preferred Inglourious Basterds—found Shosanna the most challenging heroine she's encountered. So she's our leading lady!"
Bruce froze. Because of him, this timeline would lose Juliette Binoche's performance in The English Patient—the very film that had won her an Oscar in the original timeline. The butterfly-effect shock left him stunned, fragments of the original movie flashing through his mind.
"Bruce, earth to Bruce—where'd you go?" Quentin broke his reverie.
Bruce snapped back, masking his lapse with another question: "If Juliette chose us, won't Harvey's brother be upset?"
Quentin shrugged it off. "Not our problem—it's all Miramax money, he profits either way, and Bob's already scouting new talent for The English Patient. Okay, Joey—you're up! Let's see how killer you look swinging that baseball bat on camera!"
Quentin turned his full attention to the eager Joey.
Bruce stepped out, sank onto a couch in the hallway, and tried to process the massive change: Juliette Binoche's Oscar-winning performance in The English Patient would never exist—because of his script. The thought felt surreal and unsettling, as if he'd somehow stolen an Oscar from her.
Just then the door of an office across the hall opened. A sharp-looking blonde in a power suit stepped out, followed by Bob—his arms piled high with teetering folders—Bruce's "old friend," screenwriter Bob Smith.
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