Page 8 of He's The Reason Why

“I’m not just a good friend, I’m yourbestfriend.” Marshall bared his teeth. “I have to put up with all your shit and help you hide the bodies, and in exchange, I get to enjoy your suffering. It’s in the contract.”

“I don’t remember signing anything.”

“It’s verbal and completely binding.” Marshall stood and pulled off his shirt. “Forget about Rachel. You get to record in your own clothes in an air-conditioned studio next to a Bellamy Babe. What’s so bad about that?”

“Your fixation on the AC is not helping.”

“I had a total crush on her in high school, remember? She was smokin’ hot. That dark hair and those eyes…damn. I’m a sucker deep brown puppy dog eyes.” Marshall tossed his shirt on the lounge chair, then sat down to pry off his shoes and socks.

“It’s an animated movie, it doesn’t matter what she looks like.” Blake drained the rest of the water in his bottle and tossed it into the trash. “The point is she’s never done anything like this before. We’ll spend more time teaching her how to act than actually recording. It’ll slow the whole project down, which means ours will be stuck in development hell.”

Marshall snapped his fingers. “Hey. You can introduce me to her. Take me with you to the reading.”

“Hell no.”

“Come on.” Marshall kicked his shoes out of the way.

“It’s a closed set. Besides, the last thing we need is you trying to charm the room. You’ll disrupt everything and then we won’t get the reading done.”

“Me, disruptive?” Marshall put a hand on his chest and blinked with wide-eyed, complete bullshit innocence. “Never.”

“Be serious, man. The faster this movie gets done, the fasterwe get the green light onConned.” Blake drained the bottle of water and stood up. “Enjoy your swim. I have to get cleaned up.”

“Yeah, well, be sure to practice your songs in there,” Marshall called out.

“You know it creeps me out that you still listen to me singing in the shower,” Blake shouted over his shoulder.

He lived only ten miles from Day Dreams Studios headquarters, a sprawling campus in Glendale where the core animation work was done, which meant it took him almost an hour to get there in the cursed LA traffic.

The read-through was being held in Building Two, which contained several large studio spaces for recording motion, voice-overs, and action sequences, along with three theaters and several floors filled with offices and editing suites.

Five ivy-covered buildings surrounded a central courtyard that featured a large three-tiered fountain, a basketball court, park benches, and lush, carefully tended gardens. Artists had crafted tributes to all the legendary Day Dreams animated characters out of the greenery to greet visitors, and small sculptures waited among the vegetation to surprise and delight.

It felt like walking into a theme park, without the tourists.

Once he was past security inside Building Two, he followed the signs to a large studio space with black walls and a black ceiling with tracks running across it in a grid pattern. The floor in the center of the room was painted black, and along the edges ran with the type of exit indicator lights used on airplanes.

Tables formed a square big enough to serve dinner at Hogwarts on the black portion of the floor with chairs that indicated at least ten people per side. Each place featured a name tag,a copy of the script, a box of pens, bottles of water, and a bowl of M&Ms.

More chairs formed a gallery of sorts along the walls.

They’d gone out of their way to make this a special occasion, he noticed. There was an ice sculpture of a dragon at one end of the table and another of a compass at the other. In between was enough food to keep an army full for a month.

Several tables huddled along one side held computers he thought were probably used for animation. He pictured what they might do in a space this large and realized this must be where they did their live-motion capture.

“Blake!” Paul Lester, the producer, rushed toward him beaming a smile that could power a fleet of electric cars.

He was a gray-haired man with enormous sideburns who wore an untucked turquoise shirt with neon-pink flamingos all over it.

He grabbed Blake’s outstretched hand in both of his. “I’m so glad you’re here! When they told me you said yes I about fell off my chair. I’m a huge, huge fan. It’s great, you coming on board like this at the last minute. Thought we never were going to break ground, especially after Charlie bailed like he did. Thought the whole deal was cursed.”

Paul pumped Blake’s hand up and down with enthusiasm. “Can’t wait to see what you do with our rogue prince. Diane’s worried you’ll try to play it too cool, but I told her no way. You’ll do right by her baby.”

Paul paused, hands still clutching Blake’s, momentarily distracted by something in the distance.

Blake pulled his hand back before Paul could start up again. “Diane’s the writer?”

Paul waved at someone in the distance. “Good morning! Be sure to check the table. I made sure there was plain yogurt just for you.” He turned back to Blake and leaned in to whisper, “Not sure why shewanted that because she just loads it with fruit. Why not buy the kind that has it already in there, I say. Anyway, where were we? Oh yes. Diane. She’s an amazing writer. Fantastic. Fresh. A go-getter. The story has spirit, you know? She’s captured a real swashbuckling fearlessness. Reminds me of when I was a kid watchingThePrincess Bride, except not quite so campy. More modern, with a kick-ass couple to really add punch. Not thatThePrincess Bridedidn’t have that. But this has more edge, you know? Can’t believe this is her first production. Wait until you meet her. She’s going toadoreyou and Piper. Where’s Piper? What time is it?” Paul checked his watch. “Dammit, I swore we’d start this on time. We’re already fifteen minutes late.”

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