9. Lex
9
LEX
I t was like I was a kid about to present a project in front of the class—a little sweaty anda lot more nervous than I anticipated. An upset stomach had me reaching for the bottle of Pepto-Bismol within minutes of giving up on sleep and getting out of bed this morning.
For the first time since filming started, Dad and a few of the studio’s key executives were scheduled to sit down and watch the rushes. He’d been away the past three weeks of filming, visiting friends on the East Coast, making this his first chance to catch up. I’d been too busy to catch much of the rushes, for that matter, stuck in endless meetings and catch-ups, phone calls, and business dinners. My life had stopped being my own and probably wouldn’t be mine again until after the premiere.
I wasn’t proud of myselffordissolving into a bundle of nerves like this. If life had given me nothing else, though, it had granted me the ability to walk around like I didn’t have a care in the world. My head was high as I strode across the lot, nodding in acknowledgment as various employees waved or called my name. They needed to see confidence and stability. They needed to believe their jobs were secure, something only I could help ensure.
“Everything’s almost ready, Mr. Landry,” the projectionist told me when I reached the screening room. “Almost everyone is waiting inside.”
“Is Summer here?” I asked, hoping like hell she wasn’t in there alone with a bunch of old pricks who would smile to her face but disrespect her behind her back.
“I don’t think so,” he said, ducking into the booth and leaving me outside the door to the room Dad waited to judge what Summer had done so far. Rather than go in, I pulled out my phone to text her.
Me: Where are you? Screening in a few minutes.
She wouldn’t skip out over us kissing once, would she? It was one thing for us to avoid each other whenever possible over the past three weeks since it seemed safest that way. Less temptation. Was she freaked over the idea of seeing me now along with Dad?
Either way, I anticipated a quick response. What I got was the opening of a door farther down the hall and the appearance of a wide-eyed, pale-faced Summer before she crept out of the restroom.
This was not the girl I expected to see today, the girl who had a way of making my heart jump and my dick twitch every time I set eyes on her. Nerves were one thing, but she looked like she might be coming down with something. “Are you sick?” I asked as she slowly approached.
“Don’t worry. It’s not catching.” She offered a shaky laugh that sounded almost painful and paired well with the strain etched at the corners of her eyes. “Just nerves. Tell anyone, and I’ll sneak laxatives into your coffee for a week.”
Still with the attitude. Now I saw it for what it was. She put on a good act—confident, ready to give her detractors the middle finger. Inside, it was a different story—something we had in common.
“They’re going to love it,” I assured her, taking a risk by cupping her shoulders. A brief touch, one I doubted would be misunderstood if anybody saw us.
It was much less than what I wished we could do. I had somehow managed to keep my hands off her since that night at her apartment, and every day, it was a little more challenging to ignore the memories and resist the impulse to go back for more. For instance, the usual parade of women coming on to me at business dinners meant nothing. Not so much as a twitch below the belt. Yet the slightest caress of Summer’s shoulders had me surging, yearning to do more. More would never be enough.
Right now, I wasn’t thinking about the sensuous, passionate woman. Somebody whose skin, scent, and taste had me yearning for her until I couldn’t think straight. Now, I was looking at a nervous, overwhelmed woman who saw her entire future hanging in the balance of what happened today.
Dropping my hands to my sides, I took a deep breath that lifted my shoulders and expanded my chest. “You do it,” I ordered, waiting for her to take one deep breath, then a second. Before long, normal color returned to her cheeks. “This is going to be great. Try to have a little faith.”
“Faith?” She scoffed gently. “Now I know you’re just as worried as I am if you’re talking about having faith.”
I wouldn’t dignify that with a response since it would start an argument. “Come on,” I urged. “Let’s get in there and show them what you’ve done so far.” The way she squared her shoulders before nodding stirred fresh respect and made me long to kiss her for luck. Instead, I opened the door for her, and with a ramrod back, she walked inside.
“Here we are,” I called out. “I hope everybody’s ready to be impressed.”
“We were starting to worry about you two,” Dad announced with a dry laugh that was completely insincere, at least to my ears. He stood in the middle of the five rows of seats and came down to shake Summer’s hand, clapping me on the back after that.
“You know how it is, Dad. Wait an extra few minutes. Keep people hanging. You stir up interest.” The handful of stuffed suits in the room laughed indulgently. Even Summer managed to sound sincere when she chuckled. “Now, let’s get started. I know you’ve been eager to see what’s been filmed so far.”
Rather than sit in the row with Dad and the others, I sat in the back, beneath the window of the projection booth. Summer sat with me, leaving an empty chair between us. Incredible how much I wished she wouldn’t, that we could sit together, hold one of the hands she now clasped together in her lap while her breath went short and sharp. As a friend. She needed a friend.
I had to settle for offering a reassuring smile before the lights went down and the screen in front of us brightened. Here goes nothing.
The most amazing thing happened. I had already watched some of the footage. Hell, I was there when some of it was shot, but seeing it on the screen in a darkened room allowed me to be caught up in the story. The sweeping exterior shots, the framing, the lighting—every detail had been thought out so carefully, and it allowed the actors to shine.
Actors like Danica, who possessed talent I didn’t know existed until now. She was vulnerable, gutsy, and unafraid to look rough and beaten up after a race that went wrong. I was mesmerized by a scene where she dealt with the aftermath of reckless driving that left her best friend in intensive care. Summer had pulled that performance from her.
The screen went bright white once we reached the end of the footage. A moment of silence made my heart lurch sickeningly. The back of Dad’s head didn’t move.
Summer cleared her throat, and I looked at her, then back at the row of men in front of us. “There you have it,” I said, standing slowly. “Now you know what this team has worked their asses off to pull together.”
“I’m impressed.” Dad stood, which seemed to cue the others into movinglike they were first waiting for his reaction. “Really. Fine work, Summer. Kudos to the cast and crew. I look forward to seeing more.”
Son of a bitch.
She didn’t know what that meant, but I did. Her bright, relieved smile was a bolt of white-hot pain that sliced through my chest. “Thank you,” she breathed out, laughing nervously. There was nothing I could do but plaster on a fake smile as she and the executives filed out, murmuring pleasantly. A glance Dad’s way was enough to hold me in place, bracing myself.
He was barely able to wait until the door closed before folding his arms and pacing in front of the screen. “Explain something to me,” he said, lifting his head and hitting me with a stony stare. “How is it that a woman with a body like Danica Cole is running around this movie in a pair of coveralls?”
More than thirty years of knowing the man, and I still waited for the punchline. I should have known better. He never did have a sense of humor.
“I’m waiting for an explanation,” he barked out. We were alone now, meaning he could drop the kindly act. “I thought we understood each other on this. I thought you knew the stakes.”
“I do.” Rolling my shoulders back, I added, “And what you see up there is the result of that.”
“It can’t be,” he countered, jabbing a finger toward the blank screen. “That is not what we need. Don’t tell me you can’t comprehend what I’m saying.”
“What would you prefer she wear?” It was a stupid question. I knew the answer. I wanted to hear him say it. I wanted him to come out, point blank, and admit what a pandering asshole he was.
“Grow up,” he spat. It wasn’t the words he used but the way he used them with complete disdain dripping from his voice. “You know what I’m talking about. Short shorts. Low-cut top. A bikini at least once.”
“Dad!” Laughing would only piss him off, but that was the only reaction that came to me. “A bikini? The script doesn’t call for that.”
“Then the script needs to be touched up,” he snapped back. “We have to give people what they want, goddammit. Why are you so obtuse about this?”
“This isn’t some skin flick where the girl with the big tits bends over a car in a wet T-shirt. This is a real, substantial script.” I wasn’t getting through to him. What was worse, I wanted to. “Honestly, I’m pleasantly surprised with what Danica has been able to do, given actual material to work with. Don’t you see that?”
“Then let her make some shitty art house picture when this is finished.” He snarled. “That’s none of my business. My business is making moneynow when we need it most. We don’t have the luxury of sitting back and jerking ourselves off, calling ourselves artists. We are in the business of putting asses in seats and collecting the profit. Understood?”
“I think you’re underestimating the public.”
“I think you’re delusional,” he countered. “Or is this all some ill-conceived rebellion against me?”
It was almost too pathetic. “Right, because everything’s about you,” I retorted.
“I can’t imagine what else it might be beyond you taking leave of your senses.”
Always with an imperious attitude.
Always looking down his nose at me.
“I am making this movie my way.”
He looked genuinely disappointed as he sighed. “Then you are going to be responsible for the death of this studio.”
“Don’t you put that shit on me,” I warned, making his head snap back. It felt good,as if I had finally landed a blow. “This is your mess you want me to fix. It’s not my fault you refused to look farther down the road and see the direction the industry was moving in. Other studios managed to pivot. They ventured into new platforms when you were convinced every new thing that came along was nothing more than a fad. And look at you now,” I concluded, scoffing.
His mouth barely moved as he muttered, “Are you finished?” When his voice dropped, that was when he was most dangerous. “Because I have half a mind to fire you.”
“Explain that to the world,” I pointed out on my way down the row. I’d had enough. If I hung around much longer, I’d end up saying things I couldn’t take back. Somehow, in the middle of my almost blinding outrage, I possessed enough sense to put a stop to things.
“Remember what I said,” he warned. “I can shelve this movie… take it as a write-off. But if I do, that’s going to be the reason I give for the studio’s declining numbers. Bad publicity after a failed project.”
“No one would believe that.”
“Don’t you know by now the public believes what we tell them to believe?” The bastard got the last word, beating me out the door. I waited a few seconds, fist clenched at my sides, forcing myself to breathe slowly. Anyone who saw me looking half as murderous as I felt would know something was wrong. We couldn’t have rumors flying around.
There was only one place to go. She’d be waiting for me. What was I supposed to say? How could I explain it? We had to find common ground somehow, a way to make everybody happy. The problem was, she didn’t give an inch.
There was another problem now. I had seen her work. Rough, unpolished, but damn impressive as it stood and would only get better with editing. It wouldn’t be a matter of betraying her, forcing the sort of changes Dad wanted. I’d be betraying everyone in the cast, the crew. Myself. Because I imagined being proud of the finished product if someone gave her the chance.
I braced myself for whatever was about to happen as I stepped into the building across the lot where our offices sat. My door was closed, the room dark, but that wasn’t where I was headed. She was in her office, the door ajar like she was expecting me. I tapped on it and eased it open. My heart dropped at the sight of her sitting at her desk, her face in her hands, her shoulders heaving.
I made it a point to close the door before going to her. “What’s wrong? Who did you talk to?” Because that was the only reason I could imagine her sobbing like this, almost heartbroken.
She surprised me, though, when she lifted her head and smiled through the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I almost can’t stand it,” she whispered, taking a breathless little gasp. “I don’t know what to do.”
“What are you talking about?” I sat on the end of the desk, staring down at her. “What happened? What did I miss?”
“You saw it. You watched it with me. Oh my God!” She jumped up from the chair, clapping her hands together and lacing her fingers on her head. “Lex, it’s so good, I can barely breathe. I knew it would be. I saw it all in my head the whole time. But it’s… it’s special. Isn’t it? Tell me I’m not imagining this.”
Like I needed things to get worse. “It is special,” I murmured, nodding but dying inside. This was all wrong. It shouldn’t have mattered so much, seeing her like this—beaming, overjoyed, ready to explode now that she knew she was moving in the right direction and her vision would be fulfilled.
“I mean, holy shit. I can barely breathe. Feel.” She reached out and took my hand, placing it on her chest to feel the rapid drumbeat of her heart. “Oh God, I want to start shooting the next scenes. How am I supposed to wait till tomorrow?” she blurted out a high-pitched, almost manic laugh. “This is it. I feel it.”
I couldn’t tell her. It would only break the heart, pounding like mad under my palm. “I feel it, too,” I said, smiling when she did and hating every second.
“Mr. Landry?” A voice rang out in the hall left me pulling my hand back like her skin burned. “Mr. Landry? I saw him come in…”
“In here,” I called out, my spirits sinking as Summer’s soared. Turning my head toward the door, I added, “Be right with you.”
“Let me treat you to dinner,” she offered, bubbling over with enthusiasm before pulling herself up short. “Oh. I have work to do tonight. I can order food to the apartment, and Claudia will be out, so we can talk shop without being interrupted. Please, say yes.”
Looking into those big, hope-filled eyes, how could I say no?
I couldn’t any more than I could keep from hating myself when I nodded my agreement. Tonight. I’d tell her tonight about Dad’s caveats, and we’d find a way to work around them.
We had to because I couldn’t stand the thought of crushing her.