16. Chapter 16
I peeped through the curtains, watching the paparazzi snap pictures of Max as he raced to the car and drove away.
I pulled out my phone and texted Caitlin.
Hey.
Hey. You’ve disappeared.
So, I was helping Max on set, but now… things are really screwed up.
What happened?
Um, go to Page Six.
I chewed my lip as I waited.
OMG! You kissed?
There was wine.
You shouldn’t drink wine, especially around someone like Max where there’s history.
Thanks, Mom.
Anytime. But what the hell? What makes this Page Six worthy?
Well, I don’t have an NDA, so I guess I can tell you my part…
I explained everything.
OMG. We’re coming over.
You don’t have to.
We’re coming over.
Not ten minutes later, their blue Mini Cooper pulled into the driveway. I looked up and down the street—there were no more paps hanging around that I could see. Angus and Caitlin walked inside, glancing over their shoulders as they quickly shut the door behind them.
“Let’s sit on the deck,” I suggested. Thankfully, there was a fence around the backyard.
I made us all iced teas, then collapsed into one of the blue Adirondack chairs.
“Caitlin, I’m so sorry. I’m your sister, I’m your wedding planner, and I know I’ve let you down.”
“You didn’t, though. You were helping out a friend, and in exchange, you secured my dream wedding venue!”
I sighed and downed my iced tea like it was a shot of vodka. “I’m glad you see it that way, but I feel like I keep making things worse and worse.”
“Listen, you got the venue,” Caitlin said. “The producer should be back on her feet in no time. You thank Max for the opportunity, you remind him you’re an event planner, not a film producer—”
I swirled the ice around my empty glass, watching it clink against the sides.
“You don’t actually miss working in film, do you?” Caitlin leaned forward, trying to catch my gaze.
“I mean, I always loved it. What I hated was the time apart.”
Caitlin’s jaw dropped. “You miss Max!”
I suddenly found myself fascinated by the white gulls flying over the sparkling water.
“You and Max were never together when you were in the film industry—now you’re working together in it.”
Yep, can’t put much past my sister.
“He has a three-picture deal, all three to be filmed in Scotland,” I said, leaving out the offer to write the selkie film.
Caitlin went still for a moment. “But Angus and I will be back in the States! What will I do with you in Scotland with Max?”
“I haven’t said… I’m just saying… I don’t know what I’m saying. Forget it.” I refilled my glass with iced tea.
“See what happens,” Angus said, finally speaking up. “It sounds like you know what you’re doing.”
I flopped back into my chair. “I just didn’t want to start a relationship by finding myself the subject of tabloid fodder.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Angus pushed his long dark hair away from his face. “I totally get it.”
Caitlin grinned. “Yeah, the paparazzi are always after us, asking for more acoustic folk tunes when people get snowed in and can’t get a real band.”
Angus grinned, but something in his eyes made me reconsider all those older women taking his picture. Maybe it wasn’t because he was wearing a kilt. Maybe there was more to this.
I opened my mouth to ask. Angus shook his head ever so slightly, as if he could read my thoughts. So I took a sip of my tea instead.
Just then, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, so I let it ring through to voicemail. We all stared at it until a notification popped up with a transcript of their message:
Ava, please call me back at your earliest convenience.
“Wrong number?” asked Caitlin.
“I dunno. I’m filling in for Ava, but I don’t think anyone would’ve mixed our numbers up.” I couldn’t make sense of it.
A new notification came through—a text from Max:
Bond guy calling. BEAVA.
“Beava? Be Ava. Oh shit.” My phone nearly tumbled from my hands as I jumped from my seat.
Caitlin stood and grabbed my arm. “How? Why? What’s going on?”
“He means ‘Be Ava.’ They want to talk to the producer. Max doesn’t want them to know Ava’s not there. So I need to call them, be Ava, and then get to the set ASAP.”
“I’ll drive,” said Angus, pulling keys from his pocket.
We dashed to the car and drove to base camp as fast as we could.
Sitting in the back, I closed my eyes and blew out a long breath, then pressed the green call button. What was I even supposed to say?
He picked up on the second ring. I attempted a cheerful smile, though he couldn’t see me. “Hello. Sorry I missed your call.”
“Glad I could catch you. I wanted to check in on how production is going.”
“Production’s going so well. Isn’t this an amazing place to shoot a film? And the local talent is top notch. But those rolling green hills and deep dark lochs… better than anything you could build in a studio, am I right?” I rubbed my temple as I listened to his response.
“Speaking of talent, so glad you put Max on this. He’s phenomenal. I can’t speak more highly of him.”
“I was hoping to meet with you in person, but I’ve been told you’re not here.”
My fingers tightened around the phone. “What? Oh—yes, I was just meeting with someone.”
“Max assured me you’d be here today.”
“Oh, uh, yes, Max thought I was going to be on set all day, but I’m… meeting with locations for next week’s shoot.” I tried to loosen my fingers which were beginning to ache.
“Don’t you think you should be on set in case the director needs you?”
“Oh, no, he’s all set. My assistant is there…”
I mouthed drive faster to Angus, but he shook his head. Caitlin mouthed CCTV and made a money gesture with her fingers. Apparently speeding is quite a serious crime in the UK.
Okay, fine…
Holding my breath, I tried to think of more to babble on about. “I think we’ll have a real winner next Oscar season. It can go head to head with any—No, of course.”
As I hung up, Angus pulled into Base Camp.
I jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped moving. A PA rushed forward, handing me a headset, walkie talkie, and the producer’s clipboard.
Max met me at the edge of the set, his shoulders tense. “Where have you been? We’ve got one of the bond reps here, and he wants to see how it’s going!”
One look at the bond rep, and I could tell he recognized me, but couldn’t quite place where from. Still, I followed Max’s lead and gave him a quick air kiss, then pretended to be deeply absorbed in the notes on my clipboard.
I flipped through pages as we walked. “Just looking at the budget. With this weather, we’ve been able to make 15 pages a day. I mean, unheard of, am I right? And even the rainy days have been pure cinematic gol—”
The bond rep interrupted, his lips pressed into a flat line. “We’ve heard that you’re having trouble with the cannon.”
“Oh, nothing we can’t fix in post,” I said with a wave of my hand.
He addressed Max, ignoring me entirely. “I want it on the screen, and I want it to look real.”
“The battles are also about the men themselves. We’re getting extreme close-ups of their eyes, their fear, their friends as they fall.”
The bond rep cut in, shaking his head. “Period movies need two things: sex and violence. We need explosions.”
“Actually, I beg to differ.” Max folded his arms across his chest. “Think about a movie like Schindler’s List. What’s the one thing you remember?”
“The little girl in the red coat,” I blurted out. “And the kid who couldn’t get the bathtub clean…”
The bond rep wasn’t sold.
Neither of them noticed Ava pull up in her car. The driver opened her door and helped her out, and she began hobbling over to us on her crutches.
She cut across the grass without looking, her eyes fixed on Max—and stepped directly onto the fairy mound at the edge of the field.
Jaws dropped, grips exchanged nervous glances, but as it was Ava, nobody said anything. I don’t think she even noticed.
“We can do this without—” I began, but Ava stepped up beside us.
“No, we can’t,” Ava interrupted.
The cast and crew were beginning to gather, but Max didn’t shoo them away, nor did he ask the bond rep to meet with him in private.
The bond rep turned to Ava, who frowned at me.
“Listen, Max,” she said. “I spent months putting this financing together. It needs to make its money back. Little indie personal stories about your ancestors are nice, but we need worldwide box office success. That means sex and violence and explosions.”
Max shot her a look. “A little creativity can fix anything. I’m sure we can hire someone who can make some tweaks—”
“Up here in the boondocks? We’re how many miles from civilization?” asked Ava, throwing her hands up.
A crew member puffed up his chest. “Short drive to Inverness.”
“And it’s a long, tiny-road-full-of-sheep drive to London—which is what I consider civilization,” she snapped.
Ouch. I could see the cast and crew glowering with every word Ava spoke.
“It’s a little battlefield in a little country that only matters to the Scots,” ranted Ava over the highly offended gasps from the crew, “and there’s no reason to make a movie about whatever the hell your great-grandfather was up to in the time of Mary, Queen of Scots.”
“The battle was April 16, 1746. Mary, Queen of Scots was beheaded in 1587,” mumbled the script supervisor.
“NO ONE CARES ABOUT THIS STUPID LITTLE WAR!” she shouted, red-faced and pointing a crutch at Max.
The crowd was silent, all scowling at Ava. A grip coiling cable muttered that his da’s ancestor had spent two years in hiding after the battle.
“Look.” The bond rep turned back to Max. “I took the train up here to check on production. First thing I see—you’re in the tabloids kissing your producer, who was supposed to be in the hospital.”
“She’s not a producer. She’s not even on the crew,” Ava said.
“She’s been filling in,” Max said, his jaw clenched.
“For who?”
“For Ava, who was in the hospital,” I said.
“You’re not Ava?” The bond rep looked me up and down, confused.
“I’m Ava.” She held out her hand to shake. The bond rep simply stood there, looking displeased.
I moved closer to Max. “We didn’t lie to you. Max just didn’t introduce me as Abby.”