Thirteen
THIRTEEN
“I can’t tell you, it’s a secret.”
“If one wishes to keep a secret, then one must hide it even from oneself. But you, my child, don’t know yourself.”
Lys Amarga and Autarch Zear, The Quantum Wraith
S utton slowly swam to wakefulness, aware of something warm and heavy draped across her shoulders. She moved slightly, and the pressure tightened as a still asleep Xavier gathered her closer to him, keeping her protected even as he snored. For an all too brief second, she contemplated falling back into sleep, prolonging this connection without her conscious thoughts reminding her this night had been a limited time offer only. But a quick look at the bedside clock reminded her she would only be postponing the fast-arriving inevitable, and she might as well rip the bandage off now.
“Hey.” She turned to face Xavier, stroking his beard, adoring the way the soft bristles teased and tickled her fingertips. “Sleepy head. Call time is in two and half hours. You need to prepare and I should get going.”
He grumbled, eyes still closed, and pulled her on top of him in an expansive full-body hug. Then he opened one dark brown eye. “What time did you say it was?”
“Too early and yet already too late.” She tapped his chest with her open palm. “As much as I would like to stay here…”
He sighed and reluctantly released her. “Right.”
Where were her clothes? Oh. In his office. Downstairs. “Um, I don’t suppose you have a robe or a T-shirt I can borrow…”
He got out of bed, providing a delectable view of his broad shoulders tapering to one of the most perfect asses it had ever been her privilege to witness, returning with a dark blue bathrobe that she shrugged on. The robe smelled of him, warm musk and undefinable spice, and she resisted the urge to gather the fabric and inhale deeply.
“I hate to get up and leave,” he said. “But I need to jump in the shower and run. I have an early meeting with Jay and his unit.”
“I understand. As your producer, I insist you put the film first.” She smiled. The effort took more than she anticipated.
“Erik and Ilsa won’t be home until tonight. You’re welcome to stay here longer. There’s food in the kitchen. Ilsa insists on getting bagels shipped from Montreal. She says they’re the best. Better than New York bagels, but you better not say that in Manhattan.”
She regarded him, a genuine smile breaking through. “Xavier. I do declare you are babbling.”
His look of affront was almost comical. “I am not.” Then he relented. “Maybe. I wish we had more time.”
“Me too.” More than words could convey. She threw the robe on and left his warm, cozy bed as he pulled on a pair of briefs and started to gather the clothes he would wear after his shower. “I’m going to go downstairs, get dressed and then get to my room.”
He hesitated. “You might want to…”
She read his mind. “Make sure people don’t see us leaving your house together? Exactly what I was planning to do. Although—” she watched his expression carefully “—Erik mentioned a betting pool.”
“Jay said something earlier.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Hooking up is expected on location. I wouldn’t worry about it. Crews gossip.”
“But not expected for you, Contessina said.”
His gaze became opaque. Then he shrugged. “Rain checks are worth making an exception for. Still, no need to verify the smoke with fire.”
Right. Rain checks.
And in cashing them, she was incurring a risk, one larger than she would normally consider. Confirmation of their affair would be juicy currency to be used against her in Monument’s offices. But production would be over before she knew it, and per their original pact, they would go their separate ways. The one thing she would never tell him was she feared he would be taking a piece of her heart with him when they parted. “What will you tell Erik and Ilsa?”
He smiled and kissed her, a brief brush of lips she enjoyed but also felt like he was drawing a line between last night and the days still to come on the production. “That we had a good date, like they planned, and then you went home.”
She searched his gaze and then nodded. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. He’d already told her that he kept his sexual partners compartmentalized from his family. Part of her had hoped maybe she might be different. That the fact she’d established a separate friendship with Erik that had nothing to do with Xavier might make him reconsider. But like most things when it came to Xavier, her heart was indulging in wishful thinking.
“True that. Okay. Enough talking.” The robe was so large she could almost wrap the fabric twice around her. She settled for cinching the sash tightly and pushing up the sleeves when they would fall over her hands. “Catch up with you on the set later?”
“Of course.” But when she would have brushed past him to leave the room, he caught her arm and pulled her to him for a long kiss that not only caused sparks to cartwheel through her veins but also sent ripples through her soul. Her heart gave itself over to the moment, although her head warned she was headed for a painful crash and she disengaged away first. “Do you want to—” he started.
“Thanks for last night,” she said, managing a carefree smile. “I had a great time. Especially the parts where it was impossible to multitask. And don’t worry, we still don’t need a morning-after talk—”
“Sutton.” God, she loved her name on his lips. “Now you’re babbling. I was going to say, do you want to come over tonight and watch the rough assemblage again. In the screening room. With Jay and other department heads.”
“You want me there?” A warm feeling blossomed deep in her chest. Warm but also sharp, a knife-edge pleasure-pain. “Even though I’m the suit?”
“You’re the producer.” His smile was a bright flash against his dark beard. “But if you have other plans, you don’t have to come at all.”
“No!” In some ways, his inclusion of her in the brain trust he relied on to shape The Quantum Wraith meant more to her than his obvious appreciation of having her in his bed. “I’ll clear my calendar.”
“Okay.” Another brief brush of his mouth on hers, but the electricity could power the lights on the set. “Gotta run.”
“See you tonight.” She watched him disappear into the bathroom, the sound of the shower following immediately after, before making her way downstairs to his office. The last thing she picked up after dressing were the pages he had handed her. She had a long day of meetings and arbitrating various demands and filing reports ahead of her, but that was all going to have to wait.
She had a script to read.
Sutton closed the last page, her unfocused gaze staring at the blank wall in front of her. She’d known Xavier was as talented a screenwriter as he was a director. His double-threat prowess was why she fought so hard to get into his seminar and was also why his critique of her final project had been so hurtful to her ego. The script showcased all of Xavier’s strengths: multidimensional characters, moral dilemmas with no easy answers and twists that appeared to come out of nowhere but were cleverly foreshadowed.
And bleak. So bleak.
The Quantum Wraith would no doubt make the list of the top ten movies of the year and would be up for multiple awards. Audiences would flock to the cinemas, she was sure. They would appreciate the artistry. But would they love the film? She was less sure.
“Sutton?” Contessina knocked on the frame of the open door. “Do you have a minute?”
She startled, blinking her way back from the vast reaches of space to the reality of her office at the Pronghorn Ranch. “Of course. What’s up?”
Contessina dropped into the guest chair across from Sutton’s desk. “Not much. I’m hiding from Tori. She wants me to call my publicist, and I don’t want to.”
“News about your intruder?”
Contessina shook her head. “His arraignment is set for next week. But neither Juliana nor I have to go.”
“So why the avoidance?”
“My publicist thinks I should start making the rounds. You know, get out in public, show up at events and parties.”
“It’s early to be promoting the film.”
“Way too early. People will have forgotten about it by the time it premieres. No, she wants me to get papped and remind directors and studio executives I’ll be available for new projects soon.”
“You don’t have one lined up?”
“No.” Contessina rose from the guest chair and started to pace around the room. “Not every film is a Quantum Wraith , you know.”
Sutton snorted. “Well aware. I’m employed by Monument, remember?”
“Actually, no. I keep forgetting.” Contessina laughed. “Take that as a compliment. Anyway, I’m not excited about going from this film to ‘girl in serial killer thriller who motivates the titular hero by dying tragically in the second act, only to be forgotten by the third act.’” She rolled her eyes. “On the other hand, it’s work. And a lot of people don’t get work. I’m torn between counting my blessings and being angry that the parts I’m offered aren’t better.”
“I understand.” Sutton leaned her elbows on the desk. “I love films and filmmaking, but the industry around them? I do not love. Even though I’m part of it. You’re talking about Lone Sun , right? That’s supposed to be one of my projects as a production executive after I’m finished here. I’d heard they were interested in you.”
Contessina clapped her hands to her cheeks and dropped back in her chair. “You won’t tell anyone I said that, will you? If I lose the role because I shot my mouth off again…”
“Of course I would never say anything! But, speaking of characters dying tragically, have you read the entire script for The Quantum Wraith ?”
“Xavier said he is still working on the final pages, but I know the gist. He told you? Welcome to the club. There’s a handful of us sworn to secrecy. I’m not sure if Jay knows.”
Sutton lifted the script to show Contessina. “How do you feel about ending as it is right now? Lys alone, abandoned, her hope stripped—”
“But her legend goes on,” Contessina said. “The ending is brutal. But I get what Xavier is going for.”
Sutton made a face. “I get it, but I don’t like it.”
“I’m sure he’d be happy to explain his thought process to you. Maybe late at night, while sneaking around the ranch.”
Sutton’s mouth opened and closed. The best response that popped into her head was a weak “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh. As a producer, you’re a terrible actor. You know, you cost me fifty dollars in the betting pool. I said you two would have a knock-down, drag-out fight on set and then have sex. But if you did fight, it wasn’t in front of us. Please tell me I lost on a technicality.”
Sutton started to issue another denial, then snapped her lips shut. Who was she kidding, aside from herself, when it came to Xavier? “I refuse to answer on the grounds I may incriminate myself.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Contessina looked at her phone. “Okay, I have now officially wasted enough time, so when I call my publicist, I will get her voice mail, and I can put off this conversation for one more day.”
“Why not talk to her? Be honest with how you feel.”
“You work in what industry again? But it’s not that you’re wrong, it’s the timing that isn’t right. There are some other pieces I’m waiting to fall into place. Notice I’m stalling my publicist, not my agent.”
“Ah. Sounds like you have other irons in the fire.”
The grin that launched a thousand online fan clubs during her Keiko Stowe, CEO days lit up the room. “And how. But I don’t want to jinx anything by speaking about the future prematurely, so…can I tell you later?”
“Of course. And, um—” Sutton scratched her neck “—does everyone at the Pronghorn really know?” She was asking a rhetorical question. She knew the answer last night, when Erik mentioned the crew gossip.
“To be fair, you and Xavier were kind of a sucker bet. We all saw it coming, although I tried to warn you. Now, Jason in Transpo and Achike in Wardrobe? That one took most of us by surprise.” Contessina kissed Sutton’s cheek. “See you at crew dinner. Thanks for the hideout.”
“Wait!” But Contessina had exited as suddenly as she arrived.
Sutton rubbed her temples, feeling a headache build. She’d learned her lesson about drinking enough water, but the lack of sleep was catching up to her. Her phone rang as she was searching her bag for aspirin. A quick glance at the screen and the pressure in her brain quadrupled. “Hi, Harry.”
Her boss didn’t bother with niceties like a greeting. “Kellen and Zeke are coming to the set in two weeks.”
“Wait. What?” Forget aspirin. She was required a full head transplant to get rid of the pain. “Why?”
“To show off to Monument’s investors. Kellen and Zeke are putting on a road show for them. They were going to visit the soundstages, check out the latest Vim and Velocity sequel in production, but Zeke came up with visiting your film.”
“Okay.” This was an extra hassle she didn’t need, but she would make the visit work. And if the investors were as enthusiastic about the film’s prospects as she thought they would be, this could be beneficial for the film, for Xavier, for everyone involved.
And for her. Her possible promotion was the one lifeline she had to cling to, as the knowledge she was falling in love with Xavier—might even be all the way in love, if she took the time to examine her emotions, which she refused to do—made her future otherwise appear dark and bleak.
“You sound worried, Harry. But The Quantum Wraith is going to be amazing. I saw a partial rough cut last night. The investors should come away impressed.”
“You authorized an extra company move.”
News traveled fast. “I did. For three days. But—”
“I told you, Sutton, you had to be impeccable on this assignment.”
Harry’s disapproval was almost tangible, dripping through her phone’s speaker. “Authorizing the move is within my remit—”
“Investors care about one thing. Money.”
“I know that. But,” and she crossed her fingers behind her back, as she was still manipulating the spreadsheets, “we’re going to make up the overages by cutting days on the soundstage. I got the proper sign-offs—”
“This isn’t about your ability to follow protocol. This is about your judgment. And whether it can be trusted.”
She took her phone away from her ear and stared at the screen, counting to ten before she said something that might get her fired on the spot. “I am using my judgment. My creative judgment. I saw the location for myself, the scenery is truly amazing—”
“It’s a comic book film.” Harry’s disdain felt like a physical slap. “It’s not supposed to be real. The scenes will still require extensive postproduction, so you’re not saving any money. You’re just costing Monument more.”
“But that’s the visual language for this film, the genius of Xavier’s vision for The Quantum Wraith . He’s shooting mostly practical effects and filming on location instead of the expected fantastical computer-generated settings—”
“Watch yourself out there, Sutton. That’s all I’m going to say.” Harry hung up before she could form a response.
What the hell? Harry had never spoken to her like that. She’d heard him be dismissive to others, usually right before they “ankled for new pastures” as the entertainment trade journals euphemistically called being terminated without cause. But never her. She took a few minutes to bring her breathing under control, and then she dialed Nikki. If anyone knew if she had reason to be paranoid about her future at Monument, Nikki would.
“Hey, stranger!” Nikki answered. “I thought you’d gotten eaten by a coyote. Or maybe a Gila monster. They live in Arizona, don’t they?”
“Thankfully, wildlife has not been a factor. Everything else you can imagine, yes.”
“I guess I’m glad you’re not bleached bones in the desert.”
Nikki sounded a bit miffed. And Sutton didn’t blame her. “I’m so sorry. I thought my previous producing experience would put me ahead of the learning curve, but this production has been…extra, in every way possible.”
“Mm,” Nikki hummed. “Including Xavier Duval? I’ve heard ‘extra’ attached to him. And you. As in ‘extracurricular activities.’”
“What?” Sutton sputtered. “How did that get all the way to you?”
“No denial. Very interesting,” Nikki said. “Spill the deets. Now.”
“Does everyone at the studio know? Great. That’s just awesome.” For a day that started off so amazingly perfect—snuggled next to the magnificence of Xavier in all his nude glory, warm and satiated—the afternoon was turning into a dumpster fire.
“It’s a rumor. That and eighteen bucks will get you a burger in the commissary.”
Sutton dug her thumb into the space between her eyebrows, hoping the pressure would help with her headache. Was the rumor of her affair the cause of Harry’s curtness? “I’m not so sure.”
Nikki laughed. “C’mon. On the scurrilous scale, it’s not even a three-point-five. By the time you come back to LA, people will have moved on to something much more scandalous.”
“Maybe. But I was just on the phone with Harry and something’s up. Do you think he knows?
Nikki shrugged. “I’m not close to Harry, so I don’t know. But you know he disapproves of gossip, thinks it’s a waste of people’s time.”
“True enough.” Sutton chewed on her lower lip. “What do you know about the investor boondoggle Kellen is putting together? They’re coming out here to the set in two weeks.”
“The Chester situation made investors uneasy about the safety of their money, and Pauley being on the lam doesn’t help. They’re taking investors on a goodwill tour, to persuade them the studio is still in excellent hands with a bright future.”
“The feeling I got from Harry…” Sutton sighed. “He’s disappointed in me.”
“He’s under a lot of pressure. Everyone is. Except for your friend Zeke. He seems to not to have a care in the world whenever I see him. Usually with Kellen.”
“Not my friend,” Sutton muttered. “Hanging with Kellen? That figures.”
“Let me put my ear to the ground, okay? I must run to my staff meeting. But you’re not off the hook. I want all the gory details, and you better not leave anything out.”
“Here’s a preview. Pickup truck. Tent. Thunderstorms.” Sutton ended the conversation and turned to her own computer screen. She had so much work to do. There were logistics for the company move to plan. Permits to be checked. A new schedule to send.
The weirdness with Harry to straighten out.
Her pulse sped up. She’d already told her parents she was getting the promotion, confident in her ability to secure the vice president role. She’d just have to make sure that happened.
The next hour was spent sending a flurry of texts and emails, setting the most urgent priorities in motion. To Harry, she forwarded a revised budget, including the company move, the numbers now double- and triple-checked, and received a curt but promising “Good work” message in return. But when the immediate fires were out and she had the space to concentrate on larger projects, she bypassed the open documents and spreadsheets on her computer.
And picked up The Quantum Wraith script again.
Maybe Xavier was right. Maybe Hollywood endings where the two lovers embrace after overcoming all obstacles were trite and unrealistic. Maybe the final image of Lys, alone and beaten, despairing yet still fighting, would be what cinched awards. Voting members of various film academies and craft associations did disproportionately love movies that were downbeat and “realistic,” after all.
Still…
She opened a new document file, setting the template to Screenplay . At the top of the page she typed, Alternate Third Act, The Quantum Wraith.
Staring at the words on the screen brought a rush of feeling. Since starting at Monument, she’d read hundreds of screenplays, given notes on dozens more. She worked with scripts every day. But she hadn’t tried to create something original of her own since her ill-fated final project. She’d taken the C grade and Xavier’s disappearance as signs her parents were right and she’d never have a financially secure future as a writer, she would fail miserably and have to run home. So she chose to climb her way up the production ladder instead. Still a risk, but at least she had a 401(k).
Her fingers hovered above the keyboard. What if her dialogue was leaden, her plotting cliché? A deep inhale inflated her lungs. Only one way to find out.
She couldn’t do anything about the fast-approaching expiration of her time with Xavier. But she could, maybe, do something about the final scenes of The Quantum Wraith .
Maybe by giving Lys a happily ever after, she could give herself her own happy ending. Demonstrate that fighting to love and to be loved was a worthy cause not just in Hollywood movies but in real life.
And maybe she could persuade Xavier to believe that, too.
She brought her hands down and started to write.