Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
~LEXI~
I ’m not a people person. I don’t mind people watching , but I’m much more comfortable alone in my home office.
Hanging out with the characters in my head is significantly more enjoyable than being around other humans, particularly strangers.
The engagement party Saturday night drained me completely. I spent all day yesterday in my Air BNB, watching television. Too many energies in one space drain me.
I’m better off alone.
I won’t be alone for weeks.
Every time that thought occurs to me, my stomach tightens, and I feel a panic attack rising, pacing just on the edge of my peripheral vision.
My agent—and Luke Williams himself, the owner of Williams Films—talked me into this. I didn’t want to agree to the film rights being sold to the production company at all. The thought of someone else, a stranger no less, writing the script didn’t sit well with me. The alternative, the scenario I’m currently living in, doesn’t appeal either. But Luke is a convincing man, and the money he paid for the rights was too good to pass up.
I’d suggested that the screenwriter and I work together virtually, but Luke balked at the idea and insisted that working together in person would produce the best product.
So, here I am, caution thrown to the proverbial wind, ready to make a beeline for the airport.
“Ms. Perry?” a security guard asks as I walk into the building in downtown Seattle where Williams Films is based.
“Yes.”
“Good morning, ma’am, I’m Reggie. I just need your driver’s license, and I can issue you a badge for the duration of your stay.”
“Oh.” I fumble in my bag for my wallet. “Of course. I guess I didn’t expect security to be so tight. Not that it’s a bad thing, or that I would do anything you’d need to worry about?—”
I feel my face flush as the nice man towering over me at at least six-foot-five, smiles and accepts my license.
“No problem, Lexi. It’s just a formality so we know who’s supposed to be here and who isn’t.” He taps some keys and then passes the plastic card back to me. “There we go. Just clip this to your shirt whenever you’re here, and you’re good to go.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, fumbling to affix the visitor ID to my top. “I think I’m on the tenth floor?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll show you the way.”
“Oh, you don’t have to?—”
“Mr. Williams asked me to escort you. Some of the spaces upstairs are a maze, so this is just easier.”
I nod in resignation and follow the big man to the elevator. We’re both quiet in the climb to the tenth floor, but when the doors open, the noise that hits us is startling.
“Oh,” I say in surprise.
“It’s a lively bunch,” Reggie says. “Not stuffy at all.”
“I see that.”
There are no cubicles, but large desks are scattered throughout the massive, open space. Two men throw a football back and forth. A woman sits on the floor on a yoga mat, her laptop resting in front of her.
“What do I smell?”
Reggie laughs. “Well, there’s a full gourmet kitchen in the back there, open to the rest of the space. A chef will be here all day, ready to make anything you might want for a snack or lunch. Complimentary, of course.”
“I’ve never worked anywhere like this.”
“None of us have, Lexi. Luke started this production house about five years ago, I guess. In that time, he took it from his home office to what you see here.”
“I know he’s well respected in Hollywood.”
“He is. And manages it all from Seattle. We’re casual here. Luke believes that creativity comes from feeling free to express yourself.”
I see that several pairs of eyes have turned my way. They look me up and down speculatively.
I don’t like being watched.
“Please tell me I don’t have to work out here,” I murmur.
“No, ma’am. Luke assigned you and Shawn to the conference room. This way.”
Reggie leads me down a hall to a room with floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the bullpen.
The noise is less severe here, but the distraction of the chaos out there will still be an issue.
“Uh, thanks?”
“Look,” Reggie says as he flips a switch. Suddenly, the windows are opaque, and I can no longer see through them.
“That’s pretty high-tech.”
“Only the best at Williams Films,” the security guard says with a wink. “Shawn should be here soon. In the meantime, get comfortable. If you need anything to eat or drink, just go talk to Chef in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Reggie.”
“You bet. Holler if you need anything.”
I need a lobotomy. Because as cool as I’m sure all of Luke’s employees think this place is, it’s absolutely terrifying for me. So many people. So much noise.
Good God, how does anyone get anything done?
I leave the windows frosted and turn to the workspace. It’s a pretty normal conference room with a massive table in the center and chairs arranged around it. A television is mounted to the wall. There’s a credenza off to the side that I’m sure holds snacks and coffee during meetings.
For now, there’s a fresh pitcher of ice water and glasses set out.
I pour myself a glass and start unpacking my briefcase—computer, notebook, pens.
It’s my deepest wish that Shawn and I get along today. That we can put our rocky start on Saturday behind us and work together well and efficiently.
I check the time.
He’s late.
Not just a couple of minutes late, either.
Shawn O’Callaghan, screenwriter extraordinaire, is thirty minutes late.
I sigh and sit in one of the chairs and then frown.
Has anyone ever sat in this chair? It’s stiff and uncomfortable. Similar to the entire room.
“Oh, Lexi, what have you gotten yourself into?” I mumble to myself.
“Sorry I’m late,” Shawn says as he bustles into the room, sets his briefcase on the table, and immediately starts emptying it. “There was a delay with the ferry.”
“The ferry?”
“Yes. And then traffic was murder.”
I’m intrigued by the ferry. I’ve never been on one. “Why were you on a ferry?”
“Because I live on one of the islands across the Sound,” he replies and rubs his hand over his face.
He’s striking, more handsome than I remember him being.
And he has yet to look at me.
Maybe he’s unsure of his footing because of Saturday. This is silly. I need to assure him that this is a new day. We’ll just start fresh.
There’s no need to be uncomfortable around each other.
I open my mouth to say exactly that when Shawn logs into his computer and hits me with, “I already wrote the first five scenes. You can just go ahead and skim them and approve, and we can move on.”
And just like that, my goodwill goes right out the damn window.
My eyes narrow.
My blood boils.
He still hasn’t looked my way.
“Shawn?”
“Hmm?” He turns to me then, those green eyes intense as he stares at me with expectation.
“We’re supposed to be writing this script together. ”
“I got a head start. I figured there was no harm in digging in early. Save us some time.”
I sit back in the painfully uncomfortable chair and cross my arms over my chest.
“What?” he asks. “I did us both a bloody favor.”
His Irish accent is thicker when he’s irritated. Otherwise, I don’t hear much of a lilt in his voice at all.
It’s sexy and annoying, all at the same time.
Without another word, I take Shawn’s laptop from him. Rather than read a word of what he’s written, I highlight it all and hit delete, then pass it back to him.
“What the fuck did you just do?” he demands.
“I don’t approve.”
“I worked on that for three days straight.” He’s staring at me as if I just crawled out of a coffin and told him I’m Dracula.
“You wasted your time. I came all the way out here from Minneapolis to work with you. On my book. Do you even have a copy of it?”
“I have an electronic copy,” he says between clenched teeth.
I pull my paperback out of my briefcase. It’s full of sticky notes and dog-eared corners. Passages are highlighted. It’s gone through the wringer with me.
“I was told that you’re here as a consultant,” he says after taking a deep breath, most likely trying to keep from strangling me. “I write, you approve.”
“You were given incorrect information.”
He swears under his breath, taps on his phone, then holds it to his ear. “Hey, Luke, do you have five minutes? We’re in the conference room. Thanks.”
“Are you tattling?” I ask with a laugh.
He’s definitely looking at me now. Well, glaring is a better description.
Less than thirty seconds later, Luke walks into the room and smiles at both of us. “Good morning.”
“No, it hasn’t been,” Shawn says but shakes his head as if he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “I was under the impression that I am writing this script, and that Lexi is here as a consultant.”
Luke starts to shake his head, but I reply before he can.
“It states in my contract that I’m the co-writer of this screenplay,” I say. “And that I have the final say.”
Luke spreads his hands. “She’s right. You’re co-writers here, Shawn. I don’t remember saying differently.”
Shawn pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Now,” Luke continues, “I have a meeting to get to. I have children at home that I referee on the daily, so I won’t be doing it here at work. You’re both professionals, brilliant at what you do, and I know the script will be excellent when you’re finished with it. I’ll expect it in one month.”
With that, he walks out of the room, leaving Shawn and I glaring at each other.
“I can’t believe you deleted all of that work without even giving it a glance.”
“I can’t believe you wrote five scenes without even speaking to me about them.”
He sighs and drags his hand down his face. “Okay. Let’s start over.”
“Excellent idea.” I reach across the table, offering Shawn my hand. “I’m Lexi.”
“Shawn,” he says, shaking my proffered palm. “Pleasure to meet you. Your book is excellent, by the way.”
I smile, and for the first time since I met him, I don’t want to strangle Shawn O’Callaghan. “Thank you.”
“Now, let’s get to work and make it into a movie, shall we?”
“Let’s.”
“You have to get me out of this.” I’m sitting on the bed in the bedroom of my rental, scowling at my agent, Martha, over FaceTime. “Today. Right now. Pull the plug, Martha. I’m not doing it.”
“What in the hell happened? It’s been one day.”
“Shawn O’Callaghan is a control freak and an egotistical jerk. He’s decided he’s in charge of everything, and he’s trying to change my story. I was hesitant in the beginning, but now I want nothing at all to do with this. Get me out of it.”
“That’s not possible,” she replies. “That contract is ironclad. You can give up your co-writing rights and go home, but they’ll still make the movie without you. If you leave, you have no creative control at all.”
I lean my head back in frustration. “The working conditions are so sterile. White and industrial. No pillows or cushions, no soft colors.”
“You can’t expect it to look like your office,” she says with a laugh.
“Of course, not. I know I’m being silly, Martha. I’m just so uncomfortable. I’d rather be holed up at home, writing something new.”
“Then why did you push for the creative control in the contract?”
“Because this is my story, and I want to make sure they stay true to it. I want it to become a movie that I’m proud of.”
“Luke Williams doesn’t produce duds, Lex,” she says with a laugh. “It’s only the first day. Take a deep breath, eat some chocolate, and get some sleep. Give it a chance. Maybe you and Shawn will hit your stride.”
“Or I’ll just hit him ,” I mumble. “He’s so hot. It’s a waste.”
She barks out a laugh. “Stop complaining and go enjoy the personal chef and the hot coworker,” she advises. “And if it becomes unbearable, go home. Leave it to Luke.”
“I’m not quitting,” I admit with a long sigh.
“I know you’re a bit agoraphobic. And shy, as well,” she says with a gentle voice. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, take some pillows with you. Ask for a different chair. Do whatever you have to do to be comfortable.”
I nod, thinking it over. “I could probably order a few throw blankets from Amazon and have them delivered tomorrow.”
“Absolutely. You’re a creature of habit, and you work better and more efficiently when you have a routine. Get cozy. Kick ass. Then get the hell out of Seattle.”
I smile at my friend. “I’m lucky to have you, Martha.”
“Hell yes, you are. Now, go get ‘em, tiger. I’ll talk to you soon.”
She hangs up, and I immediately open my laptop and start shopping on Amazon. I’m going to make that conference room as cozy and comfortable as I can.
“What is all of this?” Shawn asks the next afternoon as he returns with a tray of sushi for lunch. My deliveries arrived just after he left.
“I need some things to work.” I pull out the first blanket and sigh in pleasure. It’s teal blue and soft as can be. Next comes a plush, yellow pillow.
“You bought bedding for in here?” He takes a bite of a California roll and watches me with interest.
Today hasn’t been quite as bad as yesterday, although we haven’t agreed on much—we’ve just been less volatile about it.
“I need texture, color, and softness,” I explain as I pull a package of my favorite pens out of the box. “I need to feel comfortable, or I’ll continue to be short and moody.”
“By all means, order all of the bedding you need,” he says. “Hell, I’ll buy it for you if it helps.”
I can’t help but let out a little laugh.
“You’re gorgeous when you smile.”
I glance his way. He’s stopped eating his lunch. Instead, he’s watching me.
“Thanks.”
“You don’t smile often,” he continues.
“Honestly, there hasn’t been much reason to smile.”
He takes a bite of his lunch. “Sorry I was late again today.”
Forty minutes this time, but who’s counting?
“I think I might have to get a rental flat here in the city. The commute is awful.”
I simply nod as I drape my new teal blanket over the back of the chair I’ve been using.
“What else did you buy?”
“Nothing yet. I wanted to see how this worked first. I’m glad we’re able to frost these windows so they can’t watch us all day.”
“Not much of a people person, are you?”
“Not at all. I want quiet and privacy. I need to think.”
“I agree,” he says, surprising me.
“You do?”
“Absolutely. I don’t know how any of them get anything done.”
“They’re young,” I suggest. “Like you.”
“You’re not much older than me.”
I smile again, and Shawn’s green eyes narrow on me. “Thank you for that, but I’m thirty-six, Shawn. You haven’t even reached thirty yet. How is it possible, by the way, that you’ve already done such wonderful things in your career at such a young age?”
“I’m a stubborn goat,” he says with a proud grin. “At least, that’s what Ma tells me.”
“If the past twenty-four hours are any indication, I’m inclined to agree with her.”
He laughs and finishes his sushi, then opens an energy drink and takes a sip. “We should get back to this scene.”
“And we were being so civil,” I murmur. “Back to battle for us.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
I sit and organize my new pens. “We can’t seem to find common ground, Shawn.”
“It’s early days yet. We’ll get there.”
The look I send him says, “ Yeah, right.” He shrugs. “Or we’ll kill each other trying.”
“It’s a good thing I had my will drawn up and my estate planning done before this trip.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because I was flying, of course.”
He frowns. “You had a will drawn up because you were about to get on a commercial flight?”
I nod. “You just never know what might happen, Mr. O’Callaghan. I’m in favor of being prepared.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone uptight enough to do that.”
I want to bristle at his words. I want to list statistics and facts. But it wouldn’t matter. I am uptight. I have been all my life.
And I’m done apologizing for it.
“I’m ready to dive back in,” I say.
“Okay. He needs to grip her shoulders in this scene.”
“No.” I shake my head and stand, pacing the room. “I have it written that he cups her face.”
“Lexi, that won’t work.” He sits back in his chair and tosses his pen onto the table. “You have to think of camera angles. In the book, that camera is in the reader’s head. But this is going to be on a screen. If we have him cupping her face, we won’t be able to see her face. He needs to hold onto her shoulders.”
I hate that he’s changing so much of my story. Hate it.
But in this instance, I understand what he’s saying.
“At the very least, he needs to wipe away her tears. The scene is intimate, Shawn. More intimate than shoulder touching. And because this is a thriller, there aren’t many intimate moments. Most of it is fast-paced and suspenseful.”
“Agreed,” he says, typing furiously on his keyboard. “We can have him wipe the tear. That will have impact. Now, let’s change the part where she plunges her fingers into his hair…”
I’m going to kill him.