Twelve
TWELVE
“I’m never lonely when I can look at the stars. Light of the cosmos, avatars of our future, drawing us ever closer to our destiny.”
“Stars are hot gas. Like that speech.”
Con Sulley and Lys Amarga, The Quantum Wraith
A lthough ribs were among his favorite foodstuffs, and he would put Ilsa’s barbecue up against the finest pitmasters in Austin and Kansas City, Xavier doubted they would taste as good as they did tonight. Because tonight, the meal was accompanied by watching Sutton’s delight. Ribs were messy and involved eating with one’s hands, and no matter how many napkins and wet wipes were available, there never seemed to be enough. But Sutton dug in with gusto, her eyes sparkling, their conversation flowing as the pile of bones grew on the plates in front of them. And when Sutton stopped to lick an errant drop of sauce off her index finger…he’d never sat through a dinner in a state of constant arousal before. But the stimuli didn’t stop, from her near orgasmic groan at her first taste of Ilsa’s artistry to her plump pink lips closing over a rib, sucking the last tasty bits from the bone.
She relaxed in her chair after finishing her final piece, her eyes half closed. “That was amazing. Maybe those ribs really are life-changing.”
The oysters were also gone, having slid down their throats at the start of the meal, and the decanted red wine had long been emptied. High above, the round moon threw shadows worthy of film noir, and they ate by the glow of the repurposed Christmas lights and whatever light the battery-operated candles could produce. And he was pretty certain the playlist on the speaker was on its third or fourth go-around. He was starting to recognize songs.
But the date wasn’t over yet. “Can I interest you in chocolate-dipped strawberries? Or broccoli? I understand both are in the kitchen.”
She laughed. “As tempting as broccoli sounds, I’ll pass.”
Disappointment hit him, brutal in its unexpected slap. “Ready to call it a night?”
“Depends.” Her smile curved with mischief. “You asked me on a real date. Is this the point where you usually say goodnight to your dates?”
He hadn’t realized how tight his shoulders had been until they just now relaxed. “We’ve had dinner. How about a movie?”
“A traditional date activity and yet also an interest we have in common! Well played.” She pushed back from the table and began to stack plates and serving pieces to bring them into the house and then followed him into the kitchen. “What film are you thinking of? Should we drive into town?”
He ran water over the dirty dishes and placed them in the dishwasher before turning back to her question. “Better. I have advance screening copies of upcoming releases.”
Her mouth made an O shape. A very delectable shape. “Of course you have screeners. I’m assuming Monument set you up with a screening room in this house?”
“There’s one. It’s where Jay and I watch dailies and rough cuts. But I have somewhere else in mind.” He opened the refrigerator and took out a plate with some of biggest strawberries he’d ever seen dunked in thick dark chocolate and drizzled with decorative white chocolate stripes. “Follow me.”
“After you.” She held up a bottle of champagne she must have taken from the wine refrigerator and their two flutes from earlier.
He led her to his favorite place in the rented house, a downstairs bedroom he had claimed for himself. His heart beat a rapid uneven rhythm as they approached the door, taking him by surprise. But then, few people had crossed this threshold. Erik was welcome, of course. Xavier was always available for him. He would not let Erik grow up as he did, an afterthought who was rarely acknowledged, much less wanted. The rest of the world? He doubted Jay or even Ilsa had spent more than fifteen minutes collectively in what he’d begun referring to mentally as his sanctum sanctorum . Erik’s comic books had rubbed off on him.
“Here we are.” He found himself holding his breath, wondering how she would react.
Sutton stopped in the doorway, her gaze sweeping around, taking in the sofa with its wide leather cushions, the beaten-up desk that was the one thing he demanded be moved to his residences in his contract, the bookshelves crowded with tomes on photography, screenwriting and filmmaking, interspersed with various items he’d taken as souvenirs from his previous films.
Sutton placed the champagne and flutes on the low coffee table in front of the sofa, but she remained on her feet, slowly perusing the books and other items on the shelves, smiling at props she recognized and admiring his latest photo of Erik, a candid taken that fateful night Contessina hosted crew drinks. Then she pulled out a pictorial history of Alfred Hitchcock’s films and laughed when she opened the book. “Of course, the spine is cracked at Vertigo .”
“Because that is the best film Hitchcock made. One of the best films ever made.”
She shook her head and put the book back in its spot. “His best film is Notorious . We settled this last time we were together.”
“The last time we saw each other was this afternoon and you mostly talked about the logistics of securing additional honey wagons for Wednesday.”
“Very funny.” She sank onto the sofa next to him, tucking her legs underneath her. “I mean ten years ago. And of course we did.”
He frowned at her. “I would never rank Notorious above Vertigo . Notorious is fun to watch, but Vertigo is a tour de force.”
“ Notorious is brilliantly paced, and the chemistry between Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman is scorching.”
“Hitchcock’s mastery of film as a medium is unmatched in Vertigo . His use of color. The invention of the dolly zoom.”
She waved his arguments away with a flick of her wrist. “And it’s a film that leaves people cold. Notorious makes us feel. And unlike Vertigo , Notorious has an ending. A pretty happy one, in fact.”
He made a face. “ Vertigo is a master class in psychological exploration. The ambiguity is a feature, not a bug. The film subverts—”
“Traditional Hollywood cinema,” she finished for him, laughing. “I’m familiar with your thinking. But the ambiguity is a bug, at least for me. When I’m sick or sad, Notorious is one of my comfort films. That’s why audiences love a happy ending. They leave people with a sense of optimism and hope. I think I’ve seen Vertigo twice, maybe? Because I don’t want to be depressed.”
“And you call yourself a cinephile. I’m going to ignore you said that.” He opened the champagne with a muffled pop and poured a flute for her before taking the second one for himself. “Cheers. Here’s looking at you.”
“I appreciate you leaving off the ‘kid.’” She clinked her glass against his and smiled, warm and generous. “To infinity and beyond.”
He could spend all night staring into her those dark green eyes. “Toy Story?”
“‘You’ve got a friend in me’ didn’t seem romantic enough.” She cupped her right hand to his left cheek. Her touch was cool and tender. “I like this,” she said, stroking his beard. “Adds some needed gravitas to your face.”
“Needed?” But he didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into her palm, gave her hand permission to explore more.
“You looked too much like you were a fellow student then.” Her other hand came up to cup his right cheek. “No wonder I had trouble respecting the boundaries.”
His phone beeped with a text, and he broke out of the haze induced by Sutton’s eyes to glance at his screen. Erik and Ilsa were safely at the Chens and scarfing pizza.
Right. He had obligations to go with the beard now. He was pleased Erik liked Sutton—she was infinitely likable—but tonight only underscored his apprehension about mixing his professional relationships with his family, setting expectations that had no chance of being fulfilled.
If only life could be controlled like his film set. But he would continue to do his best to ensure Erik was surrounded by people he could count on.
“Anyway, I’m glad we’re having this date now,” she continued, drinking deeply from her flute. “And speaking of, where’s the movie you promised me? I appreciate a cinema without the sticky floors, but the lack of popcorn could be a problem.”
“Afraid you’ll have to make do with these.” He offered the plate of strawberries to her, and the subsequent sight of Sutton Spencer licking chocolate off her fingers rocketed to the top of his personal top ten most erotic images. The pressure building in his groin demanded to know if her mouth still tasted of ripe fruit, but he knew if he started to kiss her, there would be no movie watching. He reluctantly pulled his gaze from her and picked up the remote.
“I could put on the new Gordon Michaeux film. It’s supposed to be quite good. An early contender for awards.”
“There appears to be a missing ‘or’ at the end.”
“Or… I received the first rough assemblage of The Quantum Wraith .” His palms were suddenly sweaty, and he had to put down the remote before he dropped it.
His contract stipulated he didn’t have to show edits to the studio until much further in the process. But Sutton was the acting producer. She deserved to see what they had filmed so far.
And he wanted her to see what his team had pieced together, but what if she didn’t like the direction he was taking? Or if she thought his vision was flat or hackneyed? The realization of how much he craved her creative approval was scary.
Her face lit up. “Are you kidding? I would love to see the footage.”
He switched the screen on the television to the file-sharing service he used with his editing team in Los Angeles. “It’s rough,” he warned.
“You said that. I’m not expecting a completed film. I know we’re still shooting. I’m part of the production, remember?”
“No special effects, no sweetening, no color correction, temp music tracks,” he continued, his heart beating faster and harder with each word. He shouldn’t have mentioned it. “I haven’t seen it yet.”
“Xavier.” She placed her hand over his and turned so she could catch his gaze. “I appreciate this is an early edit. And I am so very honored you trust me with this.”
He squeezed her fingers, took a deep breath and then brought the file up on the TV screen. Contessina’s face appeared, the image frozen, her brown eyes dark unreadable pools. “Here we go.”
The edit was everything he said it would be. The story skipped key moments that hadn’t been filmed yet. The explosions lacked power and sound. The scenery missed the computer graphic elements that would be added in postproduction to make the desert appear more otherworldly. In the scene where Autarch Zear materialized to Lys, the sun was shining brightly while Contessina delivered her lines, but when the camera switched to Raul, the sun was behind clouds. All of that could and would be fixed in postproduction.
He took out his electronic tablet and began making notes on his first impression. Later he would pay closer attention to the framing, the shot sequence, the angles chosen. And he would take another pass to concentrate on the actors’ performances, to ensure their most powerful takes were included. But for now, he let the scenes wash over him, viewing the edit as an audience member might.
Or at least that was his intent. He was acutely aware of Sutton beside him. His gaze was on her as often as the screen. She bit her lower lip when Lys was being interrogated. Her hands clenched when Autarch Zear taunted Lys with the knowledge she was now a known traitor, and her home was forever forbidden to her. And when Con sacrificed himself for Lys, moisture shimmered at the corners of her eyes.
“Well?” he asked, his breath held, hoping the tears were a good sign.
She was silent for a moment, her face turned from him. His spirits, which had been soaring so high they joined satellites in orbit, plummeted hard.
He was confident in his work. The film was solidly crafted, thanks to his handpicked crew and Jay’s cinematography. Contessina was luminous even in a rough cut. The film would cement her as a major star, he was sure.
But if Sutton didn’t connect with the film, if the scenes left her cold or worse, bored her…
“Xavier.” His name was an incredulous whisper. She turned to him, her gaze still shimmering with moisture. “The film is amazing.”
Relief was sweet and felt like his veins had been injected with champagne, bubbles popping and fizzing. “So, better than Notorious .”
She laughed. “No, Notorious is still the one to beat. But I’d put it above Vertigo .”
“I can’t believe you have a degree in film.” The champagne sensations continued and he poured himself a fresh flute of the real stuff, taking a heady sip.
“Hey, I acknowledge the artistry of Vertigo . But the rough cut is leaps and bounds beyond a decades-old film, admitted masterpiece or not. I can’t wait to see the final product.” She turned toward him, tucking her legs underneath her once more.
“I appreciate your faith.”
She shook her head. “It’s not faith. Well, I guess there’s a component of it. I have faith the finished film will be amazing. But I’ve always known you were talented. It was why I fought so hard to get into your seminar.” She flashed him a knowing smile, and his heart flipped. “Anyway, thank you for reminding me why I wanted to be in the film industry in the first place. To tell stories that move people.”
“You were moved?” Damn if that didn’t make the champagne sparkle even more.
She took his flute from him and placed it on the coffee table. “It’s going to be a great film,” she said, catching and holding his gaze with hers. “And I see now why the confrontation scene needs to be filmed where we visited near Yuma. The story is truly enhanced by how you use the natural scenery for the planet scenes. You’ll lose that if you move to a soundstage.”
“Does that mean you’re approving the new location?”
She nodded. “The paperwork is already in. But now I’ll make sure it happens. The budget is going to be an issue…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze turned distant.
“Will Monument make your life difficult?” he asked.
“That’s my concern, not yours.”
He regarded her. The new location would indeed enhance The Quantum Wraith , make the final confrontation more cinematic and richly textured. But he would still be satisfied with the film if he had to recreate the setting on a soundstage and use visual effects. “I don’t want you to do anything that would jeopardize—”
She leaned over and kissed him, hard and swift. The kiss was much wanted, but the surprise stole all his words from his brain. He blinked at her. She half smiled, half smirked at him, rising to kneel on the sofa cushions as she faced him. “As the dinner and the movie portion of the date are now concluded, I thought maybe we should move to the rest of the night? Since we have this place to ourselves. If you’re amenable, that is.”
He gathered his scattered thoughts. “More than. But the budget—”
She placed her right index finger on his lips, then leaned down to cover his mouth with hers for a lingering kiss, hot and wet, her clever tongue giving and receiving while promising much more to come before she broke contact and pulled back. “I’m the producer,” she said. “Leave the spreadsheets to me. You direct the hell out of this film.”
She went in for another kiss, but with an extreme exercise of will he managed to hold her off. “Aren’t you up for a promotion? Don’t jeopardize your career.”
She sat on her heels. “Right now, I’m up for something else. But if you’re not…”
No. He did not say that. In fact, up was an accurate description. “Are you using sex to get me to stop talking?”
“Only if it’s working.” She nuzzled the skin behind his ear, a particularly sensitive spot she’d discovered when they were in the tent and continued to use to great effect. “Is it?”
Oh yeah. Working real well. He’d have to remember to ask her about any consequences from her decision to authorize the new location in the morning. Or at least he would remember if his blood wasn’t headed straight south, thanks to Sutton’s lips performing their magic on his.
Three mind-blowing orgasms later—he was more than happy to keep the ledger tipped firmly in her favor—his hands made swooping circles on the soft satin of Sutton’s back, tracing the gentle knobs of her spine and the curve of her hips. She stirred, raising her head to look at him.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” she said back, her smile slow and deeply satisfied.
“Want to move to the bed?”
She hummed, a pleasant vibration he would swear he could feel in his soul if he felt like being poetic. “I don’t think I can move. I’m comfortable here if you are.”
He was. His bed was nice—the mattress was just the right amount of firm, and he had learned over the years not to skimp on the quality of his sheets—but this room was him in a way the bedroom, with its rented furniture and generic Western artwork on the walls, never could be. There was a reason few people were invited into his study. But he wanted Sutton to be here. The intimacy was even more, well, intimate.
“So,” she said, her index finger drawing abstract patterns on his chest, “I can’t stop thinking about the film.”
“Oh. Great. That’s not a blow to my male ego.”
She laughed. “It’s not the only thing I’m thinking about. I’m a very talented multitasker.” She whispered kisses along the path her fingers forged.
He closed his eyes, relishing in her touch, enjoying the luxury to just be with her without worrying about being spotted by a member of the production or his family. Not that apparently his family would be all that shocked, judging by the stunt Erik and Ilsa pulled earlier. “Multitask away.”
“Mm,” she hummed again, leaving off her exploration of his chest to press herself against him, tangling her legs with his before raising her gaze. “So, the edit ended with Lys escaping after Con’s apparent death. And I know the confrontation with Autarch Zear is the next big set piece. But you know—” she pressed hot, open mouth kisses along his neck and throat “—you still haven’t told me the ending. I think you know you can now trust me not to go running to the internet with spoilers.”
“I’m still writing it.” He could lose himself forever in the sensation of Sutton’s soft curves in his arms, the way she shivered when he found a particularly sensitive area, the pink flush that suffused her face when he explored further. He supposed she might find it tiresome, being a redhead whose light skin made it difficult to hide certain emotions, but he was endlessly fascinated. “But Con’s death. That’s not apparent.”
Sutton lifted her head, abruptly leaving off what had been a systematic progression of kisses from one side of his jaw to the other. “What do you mean, ‘not apparent’?”
“Con dies. It’s a death. Not an apparent one.” His hand drifted lower.
She shifted and rolled away from him, denying him access to his target. “Con can’t die.”
He blinked. Unlike Sutton, he did not claim to multitask well. “He does.”
She sat up. Normally he would be appreciative of the view, but the thunderclouds gathering on her expression demanded his focus. Not to mention she crossed her arms over her chest, barring his gaze from admiring her delicious curves. “Con is who keeps Lys going. He’s her support, her rock. And, I admit, I am heavily shipping them.”
Con’s story was so clear to him. How could his arc not be evident to Sutton? “And that’s why he has to die.”
Her eyes widened. “Because I ship them?”
“No, of course not. Because Lys needs to stand on her own. She learns she can’t rely on anyone but herself.”
Sutton blinked at him. “What kind of a message is that? Con loves Lys. He supports her because he loves her. She can rely on him. Con and Lys, that’s a healthy relationship to put on film.”
Xavier narrowed his gaze. “But The Quantum Wraith isn’t a rom-com. Structurally, it doesn’t follow a romance arc.”
“Characters fall in love in other genres, you know.” She pulled the blanket around her, ensuring most of her was now hidden from his gaze.
“Sure.” Now he found himself crossing his arms. “‘And they lived happily ever after’ is fine for Disney animation and holiday flicks but—”
“Oh, so now we’re back to dismissing holiday filmss, which, as you know, are extremely popular. And that’s what Monument wants, by the way. A popular film that makes money.”
“I want The Quantum Wraith to not only entertain but to provoke thought. Use science fiction to reflect our reality. We come into the world alone, we leave it alone.”
Her head shook rapidly, her tousled hair a red-gold blur. “That’s really bleak. You don’t truly believe that.”
Oh, but he did. He would also treasure this time with Sutton. But it had an expiration date. The concept of love everlasting was more fantastical than the universe of The Quantum Wraith . Life was hard. The best anyone could hope for was to protect their loved ones from the chaos as best as possible. That’s what Rosalie did for him.
He couldn’t control what happened to her. But he could take care of Erik to the very best of his ability. “That’s Lys’s character arc. It’s true to the human experience.”
“But people go to the movies to be inspired.”
“Lys is inspiring. She shows how we can rise above ourselves, to keep fighting when all else is gone.”
Sutton huffed. “And people want to be entertained.”
“You seemed to be entertained.”
“I was, but I didn’t think Con was dead dead.” She folded her arms and slunk against the sofa cushions. “He’s alive in the comics. No wonder you’re keeping the end a secret. There’s going to be riot when that gets out, you know.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And? Are you saying I should cater to, quote, ‘fans’ like the one who broke into Contessina’s home?”
She sighed. “No, of course not. Filmmakers need to tell their stories without worrying about catering to bullies.”
“Kellen approved my outline,” he said. “He understood the film is its own story, separate from the comic. He got it.”
“Kellen may be the president of production, but he has the story sensibility of a parakeet. He likes anything shiny that gets people talking.”
“And you’re still talking about the film, which says it is inspiring. Even if your preoccupation with the film despite all this—” he swept a hand over his bare chest “—right here, just for your taking, is putting a dent in my male ego.”
She smirked at him. “Why, Mr. Duval, are you fishing for compliments on your sexual prowess?”
“Depends. Do you have any?” He grinned, hoping to head off what had the potential to turn into a real argument over the film’s direction.
She leaned over and kissed him, her mouth insistent and warm, her tongue dancing and tangling with his. He sighed and deepened the kiss, his hands sliding through the silk of her hair and cradling her head close. He could kiss Sutton Spencer until the stars grew cold.
She pulled back and gazed at him, her lips dark pink and swollen. “Consider my mind officially blown when it comes to your performance in bed. Or sofa.”
He grinned, stroking her cheeks, tracing those pillowy lips with his thumb.
“But—” and she sat back again, removing herself from his grasp “—I’m less impressed with your performance as a writer-director. You can’t kill Con. Change the ending.”
He struggled upright. “The film is about Lys’s journey to being a leader, but fully alone. It’s an allegory on the costs of power. You want the story to be something it isn’t.”
“My reaction is based on the comic, plus seeing the rough edit and the storyboards.” Storm warnings reappeared in her expression. “I’m only reacting to what the story already is.”
There. That was his out. “You’re right, it’s a rough edit. You haven’t seen the whole film. And you haven’t read the full script.” He rose from the sofa and walked to his desk, feeling the heat of Sutton’s gaze on his nude back. Picking up a stack of paper, he returned to the sofa and presented the pages to her. “Here. The script. So far. I was going to take a pass at the final scenes when I received a better offer for my evening.”
His stomach clenched seeing his work in her hands. He trusted her. He did. But he didn’t trust studio executives not to interfere with filmmakers’ creative vision.
He took a deep breath and concentrated on how the dim light made Sutton’s eyes appear impossibly large and depthless. How she had never looked more attractive to him than she did right now, with her hair tousled in every direction and wearing an old wool blanket that had seen better days who knows how long ago.
She reached up to kiss the curve of his jaw. “Thank you. I appreciate your trust.”
“You’re welcome.” He leaned over for another kiss, a real one, but her focus was wholly on the script in her hands. She was already flipping pages. “You’re not going to read that now?”
She glanced up. “I didn’t think you’d want me to take the script out of your office, as a guard against possible leaks.”
That was a good point. But the hours where they had the house to themselves were slipping by, and he was self-aware enough to admit he was greedy and selfish, at least where Sutton was concerned. He didn’t want to waste a single moment more than was necessary.
“You could continue reading,” he said, his hand finding a gap in the blanket she wore to discover a warm and full breast. Her nipple puckered at his touch and she sighed, shifting to the side so he could better nuzzle her neck. “Or we could move to my bedroom and take notes on what’s more preferable: a king-size bed, a sofa, your desk or an air mattress in a pickup truck.”
She closed her eyes, her head falling back and allowing him to kiss the pulse leaping in her throat. “Sounds like a scientific experiment. I like science.”
He stood, pulling her up with him. She came willingly, her arms winding around his neck, but the script was still in her right hand. “I’m warning you now, if you try to multitask…”
She laughed. “I’m not that good at it. Not where you’re concerned.” She let him take the script from her. “Now. Show me this king-size bed, if you please.”