Page 57 of Take 2
“Can you open with that next time? Shit. You’ve got me sweating here!”
She gives me her best Pilates instructor, calm smile. “The interest isn’t where we were hoping to place it, but definitely some potential to get your baby into good hands.”
My hands meet flat against each other to cover my nose and mouth like I’m praying. I might be, actually. I will worship Goddess Lisa if she sells my screenplay. “Lisa, are my words going to become a movie?”
“I think so, but—”
My squeal cuts her off.
“Let’s not count our flowers before they’ve bloomed.”
“No, of course. I’m fine.” I lean back against my chair again and take a sip of my mimosa. At least the top half of me can look calm even if my legs are bouncing.
“Which of these brain babies of yours shall we work on next?”
We discuss my ideas, eat a kale-laden meal, and later, I resist the urge to tell anyone about the potential deal. Because that would jinx it. I cannot tell anyone. No one.
Plus, I don’t think I have the right number anymore in the contact I relabeled ‘Fuck I Lost Ryan’on a particularly bad night.
Chapter Twenty-Two
IfPrestonbroughtmeon this trip to kill me, today is the day. The headlights illuminate the road before us, but the cliffs we could careen off of are just a dark abyss. “The obvious flaw in your plan—”
“Is there only one?” Preston asks.
“Thefirstobvious flaw—I’m sure we’ll find more—is that to enjoy ascenicdrive, one must be able tosee.”
“This is why I don’t work in lighting.”
“Well, to light this”—I wave toward the darkness outside the car—“you’d have to be Apollo.”
“God of the sun sounds important and all, but I’d rather be the god of sex and wine.”
A laugh turns into a yawn. “In my experience, you don’t put those two things together anyway.”
“Are you offended that I didn’t have sex with you when you were drunk?”
“No.”
“If you need it so badly,”—his voice drops—“I’m sure you could ask very nicely when you’re sober.” That opportunity could have been seized last night, but we chose to be responsible and go to bed early and separately to be prepared for this early start. Which was just fine. I was not disappointed. At all.
At least in the dim lighting my flush isn’t visible. “I have plenty of ways to satisfy those needson my own.”
“Do you now?”
Yep, I’m going to die on these scenic roads—because the car is going to explode from the building tension. I cross my legs and pretend this conversation isn’t happening.
After the thirty-minute drive, we arrive at the dark and quiet Villefranche-sur-Mer. I’m sure it’ll be a lovely place when I’m fully awake. The crew is already setting up cameras on either side of the street that skirts the waterline. The two leads sit under a streetlamp on the white stone wall, which gives a smooth border to the sidewalk. On the other side, pale boulders give the illusion they are cascading into the water.
“The sun is going to rise over those hills”—Preston points to the other side of the small bay—“which is the whole reason we’re here.”
“Did Rafi want you here so you’d have to suffer through the early morning you forced upon everyone?”
“Probably.”
“One chance for the day, people,” Rafael says as we approach. “Because when the writer’s last name is Greene, we don’t get to use screens of the same color.”
I laugh and look up at Preston. “Oh, to have the clout to make demands like that.”
