CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 4
Does Anything Good Ever Happen on a Ferry? 25
I scan the parking lot full of Teslas and town cars, looking for whoever it is that’s set Oliver off.
I should know without looking because there’s only one person who makes Oliver react this way.
Connor Smith.
You didn’t think we were doing this book without him, did you?
I wish.
If you weren’t around for the Italian tour, or haven’t picked up the vibe from context, Connor and I used to have a thing. Before me and Oliver, but also, ahem, briefly during .
Anyway, Connor’s getting out of his James-Bond-mobile, some fancy, baby-blue sports car. He’s wearing one of his signature linen suits, and his dark blond hair is cut and feathered short, and even I can admit the look suits him.
Ha! Is that where that expression comes from?
Quick primer for those who skipped the footnote: Connor is one of the protagonists of my book series. He’s also often the antagonist. In my head, anyway. TL;DR: We solved some crimes together in Italy ten years ago, had great sex, and I wrote a book about him, which he wasn’t happy about and kind of blackmailed me over. Then I found out he was married to Allison and we broke up, but I had to keep writing about him because that’s what the public—and my publisher—wanted.
Since we both got book-famous ten years ago, he’s been kicking around Hollywood taking odd jobs as a script consultant, hanging with the semi-famous, dating inappropriately young women, and living off the proceeds of my books.
I’m sure he does other things as well, but that’s what I know for sure.
“Did you not know he was coming?” I ask Oliver as Harper climbs discreetly out of the car to give us a moment.
Oliver runs his hands through his hair, his dark brown curls springing back. “Did you?”
“Not specifically, but, like I said, the whole cast and crew were invited.”
“Is he one of those?”
“He has a consultant credit.” I look him in the eyes. They’re dark brown and usually I get lost in them, but right now they have a serious cast I need to make disappear. “I definitely told you that, Oli.”
He gives me a crooked smile. “I must’ve blocked it out.”
“I do talk a lot. You can’t listen to everything I say.”
He touches my hand, and I know we’re going to be okay. “Probably not.”
I have to ask, though. “Are we okay?”
“Yes,” he says, then kisses my hand for emphasis.
“Good.” I kiss him. Not with passion but with assurance. This is it , I want to tell him. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. Forever.
It’s a lot to convey with a kiss.
I do my best.
I think he gets it.
Eventually, we break apart and lean our foreheads against each other. “It’s only two days,” I say.
“What could go wrong?”
We should both know better than to say something like that out loud by now.
Connor would keep his distance if he knew what was good for him. But instead, he joins us in the line for the eight a.m. ferry that fifty others are waiting to board, waving at us like we’re old friends who haven’t seen one another in a while.
Situational awareness has never been Connor’s strong suit. 26
“I hear I missed quite the show last night,” Connor says with a laugh as he pulls up to us.
“Good morning, Connor,” I say.
I’ve found that sometimes an air of formality is the only thing that gets to him.
“What? Oh, yes, good morning, Eleanor. Harper. You’re both looking well.”
“And me? Am I not looking well?” Oliver says, putting his hands on his hips and jutting out his left leg like he’s posing in a fashion show.
“I, uh...”
Harper snorts. “This is awkward .”
Connor assesses the three of us. The last time we were all together was at a funeral, but that didn’t quite count as a reunion. We didn’t speak, just nodded across the grave at one another.
“Things are bound to get awkward,” I say, “when the only two people who haven’t slept together are you and Oliver.”
Oops.
Am I ever going to learn to shut my stupid mouth?
No, right? The answer is no.
Fine. FINE.
Also, it’s not even accurate. Harper hasn’t slept with Oliver. Or me, obviously.
I pointed that out earlier with my joke about the three of us not going to bed together.
“Sorry, everyone. I can’t always control what comes out of my brain.”
“If it wasn’t awkward before, it is now!” Harper says, and we laugh.
“So, last night?” Connor says, eager for the gossip.
Oliver sighs. “It was a dramatic evening.”
“Bound to happen,” Connor says, “given the players.”
“Do you know something?” I ask.
“Tyler and Fred have been spoiling for a fight for months.”
“How do you know that?”
He fidgets with his hair, a sure sign that he’s hiding something. “I’m observant.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Where were you last night, Connor?” Harper asks. “Not like you to miss a party.”
“I was...working.”
“Doing what?” I ask.
“Something confidential.”
“That can’t be good.”
“Ha ha.” Connor fixates on something over my shoulder. “What’s she doing here?”
“A popular question today,” Oliver says dryly as we all turn to look.
Allison and David are stepping out of a Land Rover. Allison’s wearing a white pantsuit, and David has a beachy vibe going with linen shorts and a dark blue Lacoste polo. His classic Wayfarers cover his eyes, and even though I have a dislike of him that’s probably unwarranted, I can see his appeal. Allison looks happy, anyway, which should be the only thing that matters.
I make a shushing gesture with my hand to stop whatever Connor’s about to say. “Quiet. They’re coming over here.”
Allison and David walk up, arm in arm. David tips his glasses up onto the top of his head and smiles at us in an open and friendly manner.
And it’s then that I remember. David is nice . Allison is nice, too, and she wouldn’t be with a man who wasn’t. Except Connor, but she was young when she met him, and we’re all entitled to one mistake. Me included.
“What a beautiful day for a wedding.” Allison points to the ocean, which is a deep blue and glittering in the sun.
“The wedding’s tomorrow,” Connor says.
Oliver clears his throat. “Always so precise.”
“I just like facts.”
I’m about to let out a sarcastic response, something about how he wouldn’t know a fact if he saw one.
I know, not my best work.
But I stop myself and take a deep breath instead.
Maybe more oxygen will help me make better decisions?
“Will we get blown into the sea with this storm, do you think?” David asks.
“We’ll be fine,” Allison says. “Remember all that fuss about Hurricane Hilary? And then nothing.”
“Mudslides, road closures, Palm Springs underwater...” I say.
“Yes, well, that won’t happen to Emma and Fred.”
“Why not?”
“Disrupt #1 on the call sheet’s perfect day?” Allison says. “The weather wouldn’t dare.”
“Besides,” Oliver adds, “they wouldn’t let us over there if there was any real danger.”
Allison tips her head back and laughs. “The regular tourists? I agree with you. But the Hollywood demand set? That’s a different story. Actors who command ten million a picture don’t take no for an answer.”
“Especially when it’s their wedding day,” David says.
Wait. They know about the wedding. Could David be the one who sent that note to Emma? Using cut-out words would be something a (bad) scriptwriter would do.
But why?
“How did you know we’re going over for a real wedding?”
David shrugs his shoulders. “Doesn’t everyone know?”
“No, it’s a secret.”
“Not after last night,” Allison says.
“Is that when you learned about it?”
Allison raises her hand to her heart. “I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
“Sorry.”
“To answer your question, I’ve been hearing rumors about them getting married for weeks, so we weren’t surprised that it was their wedding, were we, David?”
He shrugs. “Plus, there isn’t a wedding in the script, so...”
“How many people know that, though?” I say. “Outside of production.”
“There’s hundreds of copies of the script out there once you start filming something,” David says. “It was a dumb plan. Emma’s probably.”
Allison swats his arm playfully. “Now, David. Emma’s one of El’s best friends.”
“I think the line’s moving,” Harper says, tugging on my arm. “What’s wrong with you?” she mutters to me under her breath.
“I’ll tell you later.”
We don’t say anything more as we get on the boat, a white ferry that can hold a couple hundred people. As far as I can tell, all of the other passengers are the movie’s cast and crew, a nice tight-knit group of people whose names I’ve been struggling to remember since shooting started.
Before you judge, you should know, I’m terrible with names, and there are so many people on a set, often dressed similarly in jeans and black T-shirts, that it’s almost impossible for someone like me to keep track. 27 , 28
But like with so many things, I should do better. So I spend the first half of the ride mixing among them, listening to them rehash what happened at the party, and adding in details where I can. They weren’t out on the balcony, so I tell them what I saw, without spilling the beans about the wedding, and wait for them to repeat the rumors Harper told me in the car.
They know Emma and I are friends, though, so they don’t say anything when I wonder aloud why Tyler hates Fred so much.
But I can feel their thoughts, like a weighted blanket.
And that’s what makes me think it’s true. Because the crew always knows what’s happening. Like the house staff in a British mansion. They disappear into the background and see everything .
Which means Emma and Tyler had a thing. How serious and for how long, I don’t know. But it couldn’t have been something positive in her life. If it was, she would’ve told me about it. And now it’s surfacing like a bad penny, right before her wedding.
That can’t be good.
I mean, it isn’t. Foreshadowing and all that. You know the drill.
“Are you investigating something?” Connor asks me when I wander back toward the front of the boat looking for Oliver and Harper.
“Why do you ask?”
He stares down at me in the same way that he did when we met ten years ago. Seductive AF . “Because I know you.”
“You were watching me, you mean?”
He raises a shoulder. I think about avoiding the question, but maybe he’s heard something. Connor’s a magnet for scuttlebutt.
“They’re saying there’s something else behind that fight last night. Between Fred and Tyler.”
“That set was full of exes.”
“Like who?”
“Fred and Simone had something years ago when they did their first film together.”
“Gross.”
He smirks. “And you’ve heard about Tyler and Emma?”
Ugh. That means it’s true.
“I don’t want to believe it.” I bite the edge of my thumb. “What about David, the screenwriter? Does he have something against Emma?”
“I heard she got him fired off a picture a few years ago.”
“That can’t be right.”
Connor raises his eyebrows at me. “Actresses.”
“You were married to one.” The wind picks up and blows my hair around. I tuck it into the back of my shirt. “So, Tyler picked a fight with Fred because of jealousy?”
“It’s not just that.”
“What, then?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because she’s my best friend and Fred is her fiancé.”
“And you like gossip.” He smirks. “I know you, remember?”
I feel a blush creep up the back of my neck. Connor’s always had way too much impact on me, despite everything he’s done. “Didn’t we agree in Italy to let the past be the past?”
“If I recall, our agreement was more of a financial nature.”
“Right,” I say. “You stopped blackmailing me, and I made sure you didn’t go to jail.”
“I kept you out of jail.”
“The point is—there weren’t going to be any games between us anymore. Right?”
He tilts his head like he’s considering it. “You really want to know?”
“Tell me.”
“The case I’m on...It’s Fred .”
25 These chapter titles are all rhetorical questions, by the way.
26 Another “suit”-based expression. English is fascinating.
27 If there isn’t an actual medical syndrome named for this phenomenon, there should be.
28 Oh, great, I just googled it, and it turns out it might be a mild form of aphasia. AWESOME.