Page 16 of The Rom-Commers

“A writer,” Logan said. “I’ve brought you a writer.”

Charlie wasn’t following. “How did you ‘bring me a writer’?”

I tried to assess their relationship. There was something in Charlie’stone—nice, but not warm—that made it seem like Logan was trying too hard.

“Outside,” Logan said. “A rom-com writer. To work onIt Happened One Night.”

“You brought a writer here? To my house? Right now?”

And then I knew.

Charlie Yates had no idea I was coming.

Oh, shit.

Whatever was happening right now, it was not Charlie Yates approved.

I held my breath. Once I knew it, I couldn’t unknow.

“Yes,” Logan went on, clearing his throat like it was beading with flop sweat. “She’s here right now. She’s here—and she’s ready to help.”

I could tell Logan thought that if he made it all seem reasonable enough, it would actually justbereasonable.

But this was Charlie Yates. He wasn’t going to be Jedi-mind-tricked by his manager. And he had exactly one syllable of response for this situation: “No.”

“No?”

“No. I don’t need help.”

“Of course you don’tneedit,” Logan backtracked. “Just to make things easier.”

But Charlie Yates wasn’t buying it. “Working with other writers never makes things easier.”

“A consultant. Of sorts. It’s my friend. The one I told you about last time.”

“I don’t need a consultant.”

“Of course you don’t. More like a secretary. A typist.”

A typist!

Logan was trying to push past this initial resistance. “I’ll just bring her in, and we can—”

“No.”

“No?” Logan asked.

“No.”

“Doesnomean—”

“No means no. No, I don’t want you to bring her in. No, I don’t need help with the screenplay. Or a consultant. Or even a typist. I know how to type. And how to write a screenplay, too, by the way.”

Yep. He’d offended him.

“I don’t need anything,” Charlie went on. “Not from you—or anyone. Especially not some amateur writer friend of yours.”

Ouch. But fair.

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