Page 44 of Bad Reputation

“They’d only be a stranger for a few minutes.”

“Everyone’s a stranger to me, except maybe Cole. He’s a marshmallow, that guy, and I love him like a brother. That’s why I took this part for him, to help with his career, even if I loathe so many things about it.”

Maggie could see the love and concern between them. Now, knowing more about Tasha’s history, she was even more stunned by it. “It’s one of the most sincere acts of friendship ever.”

“I expect my fucking Nobel Peace Prize to arrive any moment.”

But because no one knew about what had happened with Vincent, no one except Maggie would ever appreciate how much sacrifice had been involved.

Maggie shoved the thought away. It wasn’t her job to mediate Tasha and Cole’s friendship, or make sure Tasha got credit for how brave this performance was going to be. It was her job to protect Tasha on set—and today had been an object lesson in why that mattered.

She’d worried that if she didn’t go back to high school teaching, she’d never find a job that felt that important again. But Maggie had been very wrong.

This job was every bit as crucial.

“Okay, let’s set up meetings with wardrobe and makeup and find a rehearsal space and a window for you, Cole, and I to get to work.”

Chapter 11

INT. COFFEE SHOP

Dinna fashwas driving Cole up the wall. He’d figured out that it meantDon’t worryand was interchangeable withNae bother. But did that mean his request was a bother but a small one he shouldn’t worry about, or that it was actually no bother?

Scotland was incomprehensible.

The man behind the counter of the coffee shop handed Cole a drink caddy with a few more words of Gaelic—which raised another possibility: Cole was on the receiving end of some well-earned teasing.

“Who’s the second coffee for?” a soft, familiar voice came from over Cole’s shoulder. He turned to find Maggie Niven smiling at him.

“Hey, I didn’t see you come in.” Cole tried to arrange the two to-go cups and the white paper bag of scones on the caddy. “My driver.”

“Doesn’t he normally get coffee for you?”

“Nah, that’s not his job. And he’s doing me a favor.”

“That’s kind.” She gestured around. “I see Merrit shared the good news about this place with everyone.”

She had indeed. “That woman ought to run the United Nations.”

“Not enough of a challenge.”

“Tropical Storm Tasha is more her speed,” he agreed. “But always trust Merrit’s recs. I don’t know how she does it, but she finds the bestplaces in any city. If you need to buy a case of plastic pink flamingos or eat the best tapas, she’ll know where to get ’em.”

“Pink flamingos?”

“Don’t ask. But speaking of Merrit’s boss, I’m glad you and Tash are getting along.” They’d all had a conversation the day before that had been so smooth and friction-free, he’d almost asked his best friend for identification. “Did Merrit manage that too?”

The guy behind the counter delivered Maggie’s coffee and wished her a good day in totally comprehensible English. So the barista had been messing with Cole. Well, he was an American strolling in to play a Scottish literary hero. They could mock him if they wanted to.

It was good Zoya wasn’t making the American actors do accents on the show. Cole would never have heard the end of it.

He and Maggie headed toward the door together.

“I wish I could take credit for the change,” she said, “but it worked out because Tasha decided it should. I’m as shocked as you are.”

If her words were a little careful, Cole decided to leave the matter alone. They had a blocking rehearsal on the books for Monday, and that would be the sink-or-swim moment for Tasha and Maggie.

“That sounds about par for the course, then.” They stepped out into the street. “What are you up to?” The production had the day off. Depending on the weather, this likely wouldn’t happen often. The schedule had them filming two pages of the script per day, and they didn’t have many free days if they were going to nail that.

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