Chapter 3 of She Gave My Life's Work to Her First Love

The damage-control interview was Narelle's idea. She'd arranged for it to take place in the reception room at Sanchez Group headquarters.

I sat in front of the camera and watched the reporter lob her first question.

"Director Cox, there's been widespread speculation about the copyright ownership of Director Tanner's award-winning documentary. What's your take on that?"

I thought about it for three seconds.

Narelle stood behind the camera, her gaze locked on me.

"I personally shot that footage. That's a fact no one can change."

Her eyelid twitched.

"But I signed the licensing agreement myself, and within the scope of that contract, Oscar Tanner's use of the material is legal."

She exhaled.

"Then why does the public feel the stylistic signatures are so consistent between your work and his?"

"Because a director's style is always connected to the source material. There's nothing strange about that."

After the interview wrapped, she walked over and looked at me, her expression unreadable.

"What did you mean by that last line?"

"Exactly what I said."

"Blake, are you threatening me?"

I leaned back in my chair and looked at her.

Three years ago, she'd stood behind Old Mr. Sanchez, eyes bright and shining, and told me I was the most talented person she'd ever met.

I wanted to know now whether she'd meant that for even a single second.

"Narelle, what do I have to threaten you with? I've got nothing left. What leverage could I possibly use?"

The color drained from her face for an instant, but she pulled herself together just as fast.

"Stop being dramatic. Oscar won the award. That's good for the Sanchez family, good for you, good for me. You ride that wave, and the road ahead only gets smoother."

I studied her for a moment.

"Narelle, do you actually believe what you're saying?"

She went silent for two seconds, then turned and walked away.

The copyright controversy online kept fermenting for close to two weeks.

Screenshots from my interview got clipped and remixed into every version imaginable, circulating widely across the industry.

Some people said I was a live-in son-in-law the Sanchezes had wrapped around their finger. Others said my spine had gone soft a long time ago. Others said I deserved it.

Narelle called me three or four times a day. One minute she was coaxing me, the next she was berating me, and the minute after that she was telling me how hard Oscar had it, how difficult things were for him.

I picked up every call, listened until she finished, and hung up.

One day she brought Oscar to my studio.

He stood in front of the wall covered in my field notes and turned to Narelle. "Your Director Cox really is formally trained. This stuff is the real deal."

Narelle smiled. "Of course. He's always been very dedicated to his work."

I was at the counter making coffee, my back to them.

Dedicated.

Sure. Dedicated was one word for it.

I'd spent three years climbing mountains and getting drenched in freezing rain at fifteen thousand feet, and all it earned me was Narelle Sanchez telling someone he's always been very dedicated to his work.

Oscar suddenly spoke up.

"Director Cox, I've always thought that your footage combined with my distribution channels could produce something far beyond just one film. Would you be interested in talking it over?"

I turned around and set a cup of coffee in front of him.

"Mr. Tanner, your channels and my footage. That framework sounds perfectly fair."

I paused.

"But I'm not interested."

Oscar smiled faintly and didn't press.

Narelle's expression darkened.

"Blake, can you please think bigger for once?"

"My vision isn't big enough."

"You—"

"I've got footage to review. You two go ahead."

I went back into the editing room and pulled the door shut behind me.

A long time passed before I heard Narelle's voice on the other side, low and muffled.