The First Plan

She spent the entire afternoon confirming that none of the story outlines she had in mind were registered with the Writers Guild.

Then she headed to West Hollywood's biggest bookstore. After searching carefully, she still hadn't found any trace of the works she was looking for. That was undeniably good news—it meant she could save a huge sum on rights.

She still had little idea how much it cost to invest in a film, though. She might have to ask Francis for some advice.

That evening, after returning to the estate and having dinner with her family, she sat in her room, sorting through her options. She still hadn't figured out what to do when a friend called.

"Hi, sweetheart! It's me!" It was Britney. She sounded a little breathless, and faint piano beats could be heard in the background.

"I've been calling you all afternoon, but your aunt said you were out. Why didn't you take your phone? How was graduation yesterday? I'm so sorry I couldn't make it. You're not mad at me, are you? Did you get my present? Did you have fun yesterday? Tell me everything!"

"Slow down, Brit. Yesterday was great, and I got your gift. It's a pretty little piano charm that plays music. I really love it. But it would've been even better if you'd been there."

"I know, I know." Britney's voice fell, guilt creeping into it. "I'm sorry, darling. I really thought I'd be able to get the time off. You know how it is."

Before she could finish, the line went quiet. Two seconds later, someone on the other end called out, "Thirty seconds, Britney!"

"Brit? Are you still there?"

"I'm here, I'm here! They're on my case every single day. It's either vocal practice, dancing, or rehearsals, over and over again. My legs are about to fall off!" Britney complained loudly, though there was a hint of sweetness in her voice.

A thought suddenly struck Irene. "Are you working so hard because the company's going to release a song for you?"

"Ah! How did you know?" Britney's voice lit up. "Irene, you're incredible! The record company said that if everything goes well, I'll have my own album by next year at the latest, maybe in the spring!"

Irene knocked on her own head. She'd been so caught up in thinking about making movies that she'd completely forgotten: Britney's debut album was due to burst onto the scene the following January, launching her straight to stardom. But now, she had to pretend she knew nothing about it.

"Oh my God! Really? Brit, that's amazing! You're going to be a superstar!" She could almost picture Britney jumping for joy on the other end of the line.

Britney suddenly lowered her voice, sharing the same secretive excitement they'd had as children when whispering secrets. "Hey, listen. Once I'm really famous and make my first big pile of money, we'll carry out that plan. Remember?"

"Which one?" Irene laughed, playing along. "The surfing trip to Hawaii?"

"Come on, of course not! We're driving to Las Vegas and hiring a whole squad of male models! They'll dance around us, doing those, you know, raunchy dances!" Britney's voice brimmed with eager anticipation.

"Sweetie, I hate to rain on your parade, but you'll probably have to wait a few years before you can openly hire male models to entertain you." She teased her on purpose.

"Hey, don't be such a buzzkill. Seriously, Irene, I need you." There was a faint note of dependence and vulnerability in Britney's voice. "This world... it's a little scary, but it's so exciting! We can't graduate together, but we can conquer the world together. What do you say?"

Irene's heart melted. She loved Britney so much. In her previous life, after learning about what Britney had been through while lying in a hospital bed, she'd made a point of getting to know her when she was still young. She'd always been afraid to make any big moves, worried she might interfere with Britney's path to fame. Now, at last, Britney had confirmed she'd be making her debut.

"I'll always be here, Brit." Her voice was soft but utterly certain. "You're going to make it, I know it. I'll buy ten copies of your album. No, a hundred!"

Laughter came through the phone, then cut off abruptly. Britney hurriedly said, "Oh, no! I really have to go! Love you! Remember our male model plan!"

Click—click—click.

The line went dead.

Irene slowly put down the receiver. Suddenly, she thought of a better plan than making a movie directly, one that could bring her in front of the public sooner: making the music video for Britney's debut album.

She remembered how Baby One More Time had caused a sensation as soon as it was released in her previous life. The girl with blonde pigtails, wearing a modified school uniform and a short skirt as she danced, instantly became a fashion icon that teenagers around the world rushed to imitate. If Irene changed the kneeling and caressing moves in the video and toned down the controversy, she might even help Britney win the Best New Artist award she'd missed out on that year.

But she didn't know anyone at Jive Records. How could she convince them to give a newcomer like her a chance?

Her gaze fell on the business card.

"Hello, this is Shelly Ovitz. I'm unable to take your call at the moment. If this is urgent, please leave a message after the tone, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"Hello, Mr. Ovitz. This is Irene Coppola. I'm sorry to bother you so late. My father said I could contact you if I ever needed anything, and I think I've found that 'something.' If you hear this message, I hope you'll get back to me soon. Thank you."

Aside from Britney, Irene had almost no connections in the music industry. Even if she had an idea for a music video, she had no way to get an introduction. People at Jive wouldn't take an unknown "Coppola" seriously.

Why hadn't she thought of this sooner? Plenty of famous Hollywood directors had started out making music videos. The so-called "explosion junkie," Michael Bay, and Zack Snyder, whose oil-painting aesthetic had wowed the film world, had both started with commercials and music videos.

After making enough of them, directors naturally got offers to helm mainstream films. She could start that way, too.

Besides, Michael Bay was already making a name for himself. Next year's Armageddon would bring him enormous acclaim and show even more people what music video directors could do. She could ride that wave.

By the next day, she still hadn't received a call back from Ovitz. She decided not to put all her eggs in one basket, so she left the estate with Francis, who was going out to meet a friend, and headed for Century City in Beverly Hills.

She knew Britney was training at a rehearsal studio nearby and hoped to learn more about Jive Records from her.

At that moment, she missed the "search engine from her previous life" more than ever. Computers were around now, but the old clunker was painfully slow, and she could never get used to it. Google wouldn't officially be founded for some time yet, making it incredibly difficult to look up information in advance.