Page 107 of Heavy Shot

Rhiannon sighed. “I am. I can’t make my own love life work, so I want to fix yours. I want to write you the happily ever after.”

“You’re a writer, Rhi. You know that happy endings don’t always happen. But I guess I do too. I can admit that. And I can see the writing on the wall with Kline, too. What I’m going to do is be me. I'm going to make things as easy on her as possible so that when everything comes down, the comfort level she has with me is freedom and trust. Not business.She and I talked–we talk all the time now. She’s comfortable and she feels good about me and what I’m going to be doing off in another country on my own. I feel good about her.No worries. There's our flight being called."

Rhiannon looked up and stood, and laughed when he grabbed his and her carry-ons. “Gentleman until the end.”

“Or maybe I want your snacks. I saw what you bought at the kiosk.”

It was a ten-hour flight into London Heathrow where they had a layover, and Rhiannon spent most of the time on her laptop, typing up production notes and ideas for the next season of Simon Says. She'd finished her script doctoring forCircle Skyin less than ten days, after two production meetings and extensive conversations with the director and the original screenwriter. The 'finished' product was something that everyone involved was very pleased with and she'd received kudos for her talent and her expediency in bringing the project to the table a week ahead of schedule.

Now it was the script supervision that needed done, and honestly, she felt like that was going to be a walk in the park. Basically, it felt like she was getting an all-expense paid vacation in Prague, and she couldn't say she minded. Every mile away from LA seemed to bring a new level of calm. Things had just been too tense and too crazy lately.

She’d been feeling restless. Life was good…at least, her career was good. Life could use a little help. Her search for a new house had been placed on hold due to the overload of script work she'd had to complete, and now that she was going to be in the Czech Republic for at least six weeks, it would be that much longer before she managed to find a suitable place and move.

The problems that had arisen with her overexposure in the tabloids had lessened slightly as the days passed, but she was still being recognized, propositioned, and stared at lasciviously. She'd been forced to change her email address for a fourth time when she started receiving nude pictures of a man in Idaho who wanted her to come play in his 'kiddie pool'. Needless to say, she was hoping for some peace and anonymity in Prague.

In the Heathrow VIP lounge, she plugged in once more. Thad was taking the four hours to do a dine-and-dash lunch with half of his daughters, whose mother was keeping them in London while he was in Prague, so that gave Rhiannon some time alone to think. While she was busy typing up an email reminder to herself, her instant messenger dinged, and she clicked on the window to see who was contacting her. She didn't recognize the ID, but she opened the message anyway.

Grnlite1: Hard at work?

Sighing, she punched up a swift response:

ScrptDr: I don't have time or interest, pervert. Move on.

There was a pause, and she was about to close the window when another message appeared:

Grnlite1: Sorry. Should have mentioned. This is Rick.

Rhiannon's eyes went wide. "Shit."

ScrptDr: Oh. Sorry! I wasn't expecting--how did you find me?

Grnlite1: Thad gave me your ID. I just wanted to see how the flight was going?

ScrptDr: It's fine. Very long. I'll be glad when it's over.

Grnlite1: Are you relaxing or are you working?

She smiled.

ScrptDr: Working, of course.

Grnlite1: That's me, as well. Listen, I wanted to tell you that I'm already in London. We're taking the same flight to Prague from Heathrow. Meet you in the lounge?

ScrptDr: I’ll be the woman sunbathing in the light of her laptop.

Grnlite1: Radiation tan! Love it. See you in a few hours.

They said goodbye and Rhiannon closed the window and logged off, a small smile on her face. She knew she was blushing, and she was glad no one was there to see it. Rick had continued to seem interested, even after she gave him her reasons for refusing to date him, but he had maintained a comfortable distance.

For her part, Rhiannon was still very attracted to him, even though she had only seen him a handful of times over the previous weeks. There was still the concern that his interest was more to do with her notoriety and possibly Kline's assessment of her, but that worry had become less as they got to know one another a little better. Caution had prevailed, however, and she hadn't allowed herself to veer off course and give in to the urge to ask him out. How could she really, without coming across as someone who was playing games? Not only the worry of looking like a player, they had a good working relationship and she didn't want to mess that up.

She mused on that while she picked at the plate of lounge food she’d brought back to her seat with her and sighed. Maybe when all this was over?

Two hours into her wait, she saw Rick’s dark head appear and she waved. He was up at the counter checking into the VIP lounge and waved back when he saw her, pausing to fumble in his satchel and then hold up a slip of paper with “ScrptDr” written on it in black marker. She laughed and waved again, feeling foolish even as she did so.

“Hello, hello,” he said, rolling his carryon bag over to where she sat. For a moment she thought he would hug her, but he seemed to think better of it. “What you got there?” He looked at the crumbs on her plate.

“I’ve had cheese, salami, and tiny pickles. I probably smell like an antipasto salad.”

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