Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
CHARLOTTE
So just play along.
He had to understand that was much, much easier said than done, right?
Especially when his I can’t seem like I’m on your side just sounded like buckle up, I’m about to be an asshole to me.
I didn’t really have time to process it though—Nolan had already stepped around me, heading to the conference room. I gave him a moment then followed behind.
“Ms. Fox—glad you decided to grace us with your presence,” I heard as soon as I stepped in. I quickly controlled my expression, not wanting to start off rolling my eyes at Matthew Stanley’s dumbass, even though it would be exactly what he deserved.
“Glad I could brighten your day,” I told him, pointedly, then gave a nod to the other two executives at the table—no acknowledgment for Nolan. “The meeting invite seemed urgent—what can I do for you?”
“You can give me a script that audiences won’t forget about the next day,” he answered as I sat down. “We can’t end this show on such a lackluster note.”
Lackluster?
I bit the inside of my lip, urging myself to stay calm. “Shannon is dead as far as anyone knows. Silas and Luna are split up, and heartbroken about it. Kami is hellbent on revenge, Jude has pledged loyalty to that cause, there’s a memorial service happening…it’s not lackluster , it’s…heartbreaking. And melancholy. Beautiful. Haunting. ”
“ Booorriiinnggg, ” Matt heckled, with a deep guffaw as he looked back and forth at the other two execs, waiting for them to laugh too.
Boring?
That shit made my ears hot.
“What would you suggest the episode needs?” I asked against my better judgment. I could feel Nolan’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my face but refused to look at him.
“I’m glad you asked—the villain character—our murderer, whatever his name is.” Matt shrugged. “Let’s lean into full crazy, let’s go wild—another shooting.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Another shooting?”
“Hell yes—have him shoot up the memorial service. Right at the end. Everybody goes down, blood everywhere. Anybody wants to know what happened, they’ve gotta tune in for the first episode next season. It’s genius. ”
“It’s cheap and insulting,” I shot back. “And traumatic to our viewers, for no good reason. They’ve already watched a child die, in a place where she should’ve been safe. There are parents, grandparents, godparents, guardians, bonus parents, caregivers, all watching, who see their own kids in Shannon. Her death is going to hurt, and it’s going to scare them. They’re going to have to send their kids to school with that shit in their heads . And in the same episode, you want to offer up a memorial service as just one more thing to fear when you step into a public space. What kind of soulless asshole are you ?”
“Okay, you watch your fucking mouth!”
“I’m not watching shit ,” I snapped. “You will not destroy the integrity of this show and then slap my name on it.”
“We can take your name off—that’s not a problem!”
“Okay, why don’t we all just…cool it,” Nolan finally spoke up, drawing all eyes in his direction. “Everybody at this table wants a successful show—the only thing in question really is…what that means. Right?”
“It means whatever the hell I say it means,” Matt barked, clearly disinterested in a civil conversation. “There’s been too much back and forth about this, and frankly, I’m sick of the insubordination.”
Before Nolan could respond, I did. “When I signed my contract for this show, it was with the understanding of a certain level of creative control. This is my show,” I reminded him—reminded everybody. “I’ve been biting my tongue to keep the peace, but I see we are well past that now. So I’m going to just lay it out on the table—are you prepared to be in breach of my contract by forcing these changes?”
“We can get lawyers in here right now—the contracted penalty would be well worth getting you out of the way of making this thing a true success.”
“So I’m disposable, but you keep my shit?”
“I’m not sure why you ever thought anything else was the case.” Matt snickered. “You might have a little power, but you’re not that expensive to get rid of.”
“But I am.”
Everybody’s eyes swung back to Nolan, who’d sat back in his chair, arms crossed.
“Excuse me?” Matt said, and Nolan shrugged.
“Charlotte is a writer—her contract is limited, and her buy-out isn’t that expensive in the grand scheme of things,” Nolan explained. “But mine is, and I am not bound like she is by a non-disclosure agreement.”
Matt’s eyes narrowed. “But we’re not firing you.”
“You’ll have to,” Nolan countered. “Because I’m not making those ridiculous changes either. You’ll have to bring someone on to replace me too.”
Oh really, Mr. We Can’t Let Them Know I’m On Your Side?
“What do you people think this is?” Matt snapped, pushing up from his chair to stand. “Is this some kind of game? I don’t know what might make you think otherwise, but I am in charge around here!”
“Nobody is questioning that.” Nolan shrugged, unbothered by Matt’s hostile energy. “If you want us gone, so be it—just say so, Matt. But know that there are consequences for it—consequences I’m not sure you’ll want to have to explain to your bosses.”
“Is that a threat?!”
“Not at all—just making you aware. Now, if we can move forward…we understand that the network is wanting to make a big splash with the season finale for Kinfolk. But as I’ve explained before, it’s as Charlotte says—solid writing, a sensible plot, not going for the low-hanging shock factor fruit… that’s how we accomplish that.”
“Viewers want excitement.”
“Viewers want quality ,” I interjected. “Flashiness and excitement will attract an audience, absolutely. But that’s not the show we’re making, and it’s not the show these viewers have come to love. If we follow what you’re saying, sure, we’ll get your viral moment. But it won’t be representative of the body of work, which will leave people who only came for the mess disappointed. And the people who are looking for the vibe they were first introduced to? They’ll be disappointed too. So you’ll have a viral sensation with no rewatch value—which is a huge part of streaming numbers that we shouldn’t be missing out on.”
“I know what makes streaming numbers!” Matt shouted, smacking a hand on the table.
That little outburst made Nolan stand up too.
“I think we’re done here, right?” he asked, in a tone that damn near dared Matt to let anything else come out of his mouth. “Charlotte—you can go ahead and head to your office. I’ll meet you there if anything else pertinent comes up that you should know about.”
I looked to Matt, seeking confirmation that I was indeed dismissed. His jaw was clenched so tight I was surprised it hadn’t popped—the prominent vein bulging at his temple though…I wasn’t so sure about.
“ Go ,” he gritted between his teeth, sparing me a momentary glance before his gaze went back to Nolan, glaring.
I didn’t want to leave.
I wanted more than anything to stay and be nosy, to bear witness to what was sure to be a knock-down, drag-out kind of battle.
But I didn’t.
Because I knew better.
Instead of hanging around, I got up and scurried out, leaving the men to do their talking.
Obviously, I hated it—leaving a room full of men to discuss my fate. But there wasn’t much I could do about it, outside of hoping the possibility of breaching my contract was unattractive enough to just let me finish this out.
But of course…now I was having doubts.
If this was how things were going to be moving forward, did I even want to sign on for a second season of this? I loved the show, but dealing with creative input from people without the knowledge or experience for that input to actually have artistic value…I wasn’t sure I could handle that.
So maybe I should be rewriting.
Maybe I should just give them what they wanted so I could get this over with, and be done?
Shit.
That option held exactly zero appeal.
If I had to go down…I would be swinging as I went.
By the time I made it back to my office, I’d already resolved to pull my trump card—asking Pierre to co-write the episode with me. I didn’t want to use such tactics, but I knew they wouldn’t fuck with him the way they insisted on fucking with me.
And any changes Pierre wanted to make would be sensible, thoughtful ones that actually fit the quality and ethos of the show.
I wasn’t sure what my other options might be.
I was at my desk, crafting my opening text to Pierre when a knock sounded at my door.
It was no surprise to find Nolan on the other side.
“What part of don’t do anything was confusing to you?” he asked, breezing past me like I’d actually invited him in.
I closed the door, waiting until he’d stopped pacing to glare at me for an answer before I gave him one.
“If you’d just taken a moment to let me speak before you ran into that meeting, you’d know that literally all of it was confusing to me. You couldn’t possibly believe that I’d actually not do anything, when you weren’t even speaking up!”
“You didn’t give me a damn chance,” he shot back, stepping toward me. “I told you a game plan, told you I had it.”
“Did you though?”
“Did you ?” he countered. “Because until I put my ass on the line, they were more than ready to drop you.”
“I didn’t ask you to put anything on the line.”
“But I did it anyway, because like I said— I had you. ”
By the time he’d finished all his damn yelling …he was right in my face.
Not even a foot away.
Chest heaving as I frowned.
“Had me ? Or had it ?”
Confusion spread over his face. “Had it—I told you I had it.”
“No.” I shook my head. “What you said was, you had… me . I don’t need you to have me .”
“Good, because I don’t,” he said, but…didn’t make any moves to put space between us.
“Okay, well…don’t…pop up at my house. Or send me groceries. I don’t need that from you.”
“Fine. I won’t.”
“You don’t have to have an attitude about it.”
“I don’t have an attitude about it. I just said… fine. ”
Yeah.
That was all he’d said.
Why did it feel like an attack, though?
“Okay then,” I agreed. “That’s settled. I don’t need you going to bat for me.”
“Cool. I’ll go tell Matt’s bitch-ass that he can fire you then.”
“What?” I gasped. “Wait?—”
“No, it’s cool—I can pull my own ass in from the fire, where it’s nice and safe.”
“You’d do that?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You practically just insisted on it, mama.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t mean… you know what the fuck I meant. ”
“Actually, I think I need you to explain, because?—”
“Just shut up !” I huffed, planting my hands against his chest to try to push him away from me.
He didn’t budge.
Not even a little.
Instead, he grabbed me by the wrists in the midst of my second shoving attempt, using his grasp to haul me against him.
“I just put my fucking career on the chopping block for you—why the hell are you so mad at me?!”
“Because, why the hell are you being nice to me?”
“Would you rather I be mean?”
“I’d rather you stay the fuck away from me.”
He raised an eyebrow then looked down at where I was still pressed up against him—exactly zero effort made to back away.
“Would you really?”
Shit.
I was usually a great liar, but for some reason I couldn’t now—not with him staring me directly in the face. When I didn’t answer…a smirk spread across his mouth.
A moment later, his lips were pressed to mine.
I wish I’d frozen.
Wish I’d been so shocked that I couldn’t do anything.
Instead…I kissed him back.
Enthusiastically.
No idea where it came from, no idea where it was going—I draped my arms around his neck, fingers tangling in the soft coils of hair at his nape while his hands dropped to my waist. When his tongue pressed the seam of my lips, I opened for him with no hesitation, greedily meeting it with mine as his hands slipped down to my ass.
Grabbing.
Squeezing.
Pulling me into him.
I’m pressed against Nolan Brinkley’s hard dick.
The thought was enough to pull me back into reality, and that was when I finally did snatch away.
“What the hell was that?!” I huffed, pressing fingers to my lips.
He smirked. “I believe it’s known as…a kiss ?”
“Okay, fuck you.”
“I mean…we probably shouldn’t do it here , but?—”
“Get out!”
“You kick me out of your office a lot, mama.”
“ Get out! ” I shrieked, and that time, he actually moved.
Left.
Without answering the question he had to know I was really asking.
What the hell was that?