Page 141 of A Lucky Shot

“What’s—”

“Shh!” Terry scolded from the seat behind her.

The curtains parted, the screen flickered to life, and Cass’s breath lodged in her chest.

Brynne sat in a director’s chair, long legs crossed, with a wand-like microphone clasped delicately between her fingers.

Josh sat at an angle, wearing a tight black tee shirt and a scowl. Her favourite scowl. The one that telegraphed him talking about something personal. And now he was about to do it in front of a literal audience.

Cass tilted her face to Libby, who made a twirling motion with her finger to indicate she should look back at the screen.

“So,” the towering projection of Brynne said, face drawn in overly serious lines, “Sirius Darker has been a passion project of yours for some time.”

An obvious silence was edited short. Then, “Yes.”

“You need to do better than that.” Brynne’s smile was already threatening to break through. For such an incredible actor, she was going to make a terrible SNL host.

A muscle jumped in Josh’s cheek, and he huffed out his nose. “I am a fan of the book,” he said mechanically.

Brynne tipped the microphone closer to Josh. “Pretend you’re talking to Cass.”

“Fine.” He recrossed his arms and looked into the camera. “I read the book for the first time when I was thirteen years old. Every part drew me in. The characters, the message. Every time I reread it I get something new. Even back then, I saw shadows in my mind of the film it should be. Nothing bright, just”—he closed his eyes and tilted his face to the ceiling, searching for the words—“raw sketches. I started to write an adaptation when I was in university, but never finished.”

“But you got there eventually,” Brynne said. “What changed?”

“You could say I met a wave of inspiration.” The corner of Josh’s mouth twisted up. “Also, Stephen told Melanie Westwood that I was working on a draft. If it wasn’t for him, none of this might have happened.”

Cass turned her eyes to Stephen, who smiled and squeezed her hand.

“This inspiration led to one of the most frenetic weeks of my life,” he continued. “A piece of work I had started a decade prior and mostly ignored for the better part of a year was suddenly finished in a week. And I knew exactly where it came from.”

“And where was that?” Brynne pressed, waving the mic around like it was a sparkler.

“I met Cassidy St. Claire, and she changed my life.”

The faded screen blurred in front of her eyes, and Libby passed her a tissue already in her hand.

Cass turned to her best friend. “You knew about this?” she asked thickly.

“Shh. You’ll miss the good part.”

His scowl had melted. “From the moment I laid eyes on her, I couldn’t get enough of her. She is bright and generous and has a way of getting through to me that no one else does?—”

“Like when you are screaming at the grips on set?”

“Hey, I stopped yelling after?—”

“After Cass told you to stop being a—” The last word was bleeped, but Josh shrugged.

“She was nicer about it than that, but yeah.” He paused. “She was so dedicated. She didn’t have to, but she read the book, and when she read my script, it was like she could see inside my head. She dug into internet archives and found fan art I had drawn years ago. And made it better. She knew my vision and made it better. She makes everything better.”

“What is happening?” Cass asked again, but she thought she was starting to know. She stood and twisted around to scan the few occupied seats in the theatre.

He stood in the doorway, arms crossed and face tight. The Josh on the screen was still talking, but Cass felt her feet moving until she stood in front of the man in real life.

“I’m trying to show you how much I love you, but you’re not watching,” he said, a nervous smile creeping up the corner of his mouth. “Will you watch?”

On-screen Brynne was walking through wardrobe with Cass’s assistant. The shot cut to Dawson, saying he’d never felt more comfortable away from home, that he had been able to sink into the role because he felt like he inhabited the skin that Cass had created for him …

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