"What do you plan to do next?" Roy asked her.
Hearing a hint of deeper meaning in his tone, Laila countered, "What do you think?"
"I just feel this whole situation won't do you any good."
"Go on," Laila smiled and gestured for him to continue.
Roy thought for a moment, organizing his words. "There aren't many women in Hollywood's film industry, but there aren't that few either. Among directors, you're at the very top. No one denies that you earned your honors through sheer ability. But if this gender discrimination scandal blows up, every award you win afterward might be questioned—whether you got them to 'balance things out' or to avoid criticism of discrimination."
Laila's heart tightened. She had already thought of this when reading the news, but hearing Roy say it out loud still surprised her. And he was right. On the surface, more awards might seem like a good thing—but for her, any award handed out like a consolation prize would feel more poisonous than rewarding.
If it ever came to that, she might very well refuse to participate in any award shows altogether.
Someone as proud and confident as her could never tolerate winning trophies based on gender rather than merit. Perhaps some who had never won awards would see her attitude as pretentious, but she knew herself well: if she were to accept such awards and feel smug about it, her filmmaking career would essentially be over. A director without dignity or pride—could they truly create great films?
Seeing her fall silent, Roy continued, "If this narrative takes hold, even your past awards may be questioned. You're still young for a director—barely at the industry's average starting age. Why have you already won so many major awards? If people believe it's all due to award bodies trying to boost female representation in the industry, that's not something to celebrate."
He wasn't wrong. Laila closed her eyes briefly, exhaling slowly before saying, "You're right. I can't let the Golden Globes be permanently labeled as a case of gender discrimination."
She paused, her gaze drifting to Roy with interest. "Looks like you've adapted well to Hollywood's way of thinking. Ever considered doing something besides acting?"
Roy froze for a second, then raised an eyebrow and smiled. "What do you want me to do? Be a crew assistant on your set again?"
Laila chuckled, remembering how she'd brought him to Hollywood not long after they first met. Back then, he wasn't yet comfortable around film crews. To burn off his excess energy—and keep him from causing trouble—she had him do menial work on set.
"You were so obedient back then. Whatever I asked, you did."
She couldn't help laughing. Back then, she'd never have believed they would end up like this—married with a child. Sometimes, reading reports describing their romance as a fairytale made her think there was some truth to it. If fate hadn't arranged for him to crash into her life, given how their worlds were so far apart, they never would have crossed paths, much less built a family.
Roy also smiled, nostalgic. "That was a great experience—it taught me a lot. Especially learning martial arts with the Rush Hour crew—it helped me tremendously. Without that training, I wouldn't have the skills I have now."
Their conversation gradually veered off-topic, leaving their earlier discussion behind. In truth, Laila had been impressed that he could so quickly see the long-term risks this Golden Globes situation posed to her. She was even considering having him take on a role at her company.
Don't be fooled by how obvious the issues with the Golden Globes seemed now—most people wouldn't have seen through the layers as he had. The fact that Roy could read the deeper implications showed he had grasped Hollywood's unwritten rules. Her company needed someone like him, someone who could speak up and ensure smooth operations.
But since Roy was still in his prime as an actor and had plenty of room to grow, Laila decided not to press the issue for now.
As she pondered how to resolve this situation—for her own sake, and the sake of all female directors and women in the industry—her phone rang. The call was from the Golden Globes.
"Hello, Director Moran."
The caller introduced himself as Michael, representing the Golden Globes, hoping to have a "discussion" with her.
Laila quickly guessed his intentions. "Hello, Michael. What can I do for you?"
Hearing her calm voice—with none of the anger his colleagues had expected—caught Michael off guard. He had mentally prepared himself to become a punching bag for her rage, yet she sounded completely composed.
This made things trickier for him. If she'd been angry, he could at least figure out what exactly she was mad about and offer some sort of compensation accordingly. But with her this calm, he was at a loss.
"Director Moran," he ventured cautiously, "what are your thoughts on the media's recent claims of 'gender discrimination'?"
Laila's lips curved into a faint smile, though her voice remained perfectly even: "It's quite lively."
Michael nearly choked. Quite lively? What kind of answer was that? Was she treating this like some juicy tabloid drama? How was he supposed to respond? She had effectively shut the conversation down.
Of course, Laila was doing it on purpose. She did harbor resentment toward the Golden Globes. How could she not, when Blood Diamond lost Best Screenplay and Leonardo's Oscar-worthy performance had been reduced to a mere nomination at this unprofessional Golden Globes? Of course, she was angry!
Now that someone had come knocking, she saw no reason to be polite. She wasn't going to lash out directly—but she wasn't going to make it easy on them either. Subtle, roundabout jabs were far more effective. After all, Easterners excelled at circling their prey—sometimes so much that they could even confuse themselves!
After a long pause, Michael finally found his voice again. "Director Moran, I want to state clearly that the Golden Globes did not engage in any gender discrimination."
Laila already knew that—even if they had, they wouldn't dare make it too blatant. Otherwise, the current public outcry would be nothing compared to what they'd face.
"Let's not beat around the bush, Mr. Michael," she said suddenly, catching him off guard. "Why exactly are you calling me?"