Write Before Christmas, page 15
He stepped toward his rental house, and I followed him. Near the edge of his drive, he turned around. “It’s work,” he said. “I’m doing it because I have to.”
“I get that,” I said, “but why are you hosting people? Why not just do one of those Zoom watch parties or, I don’t know, nothing at all?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “I felt like I had to,” he said. “I was the one who’d bungled things by shooting my mouth off at Comic Con, so when the publicity folks came to me and said, ‘This will help fix the problem,’ I didn’t feel like I was in a position to say no.”
“Matt.”
“I’m not good at this.” He seemed to focus away from me, keeping his gaze on my parents’ inflatable Elvis. “I’m not good at maintaining relationships for long periods of time. I don’t have any contact with my family, I’ve screwed things up with my fans and the people who work on the TV show.” His Adam’s apple moved up and down. “I didn’t know how to atone for what I did on my own”—he chuckled, waving his hand—“and now I’m throwing a party.”
He reached for me, and I laced my fingers in his.
“When my characters screw up, I’m able to write their way out of the situation.” He frowned. “Why can’t I do that for myself?”
“Because real life isn’t as clean and logical as a story.” I pulled him closer to me and wrapped my arms around him, taking a quick moment to breathe in his woodsy scent.
He squeezed me tight and kissed the top of my head. “I wish it would be.”
I placed my hands on his shoulders and held him at arm’s length. “The way I see it is, we’re only responsible for what we do and how we react.” I swallowed. “For two decades, I stayed with someone I didn’t love because I felt stuck. You would’ve written me out of that marriage in a heartbeat.”
His thumb touched my lower lip, and my stomach fluttered. “Yeah, I would have.”
I stared into his big blue eyes. Again I yearned to say, Screw, Indianapolis. Stay with me here. “You put too much weight and pressure on these social situations. Like tonight,” I said, “was that so bad?”
“No.” He grinned down at me. “Because you were there.”
The weight of this conversation was going to crush me. I kept having to remind myself that I was a stopgap for him, a vacation fling. He was going back home soon, and he just reiterated for me that he wasn’t good at maintaining relationships. Even if I wanted to keep this going long-term, I’d have to set expectations for myself that Matt might let me down or vice versa. I was only responsible for my part in this, and I was not going to let any big feelings stand in the way of cold, hard reason.
But all of that was a problem for another day. Tonight and for the next week or so, Matt and I would get to remain in our little bubble. “Well, my friend.” I grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles dramatically. “I have good news for you, because I’m going to be at your premiere party.” I winked at him. “I’m making the food, remember?”
He grinned. “How could I forget?”
“So, if things get hairy for you while rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, you can come hang out in the kitchen with little old me.”
“Promise?” His sapphire eyes widened, and I had to fight not to get lost in them.
“I will set aside a plate of cookies just for you.”
He squeezed my hand. “Come back to the house with me tonight. Stay with me. I want to wake up with you in my arms.”
I glanced back at my parents’ house. This would be a new step. Matt and I hadn’t done that before. I’d always snuck home before the crack of dawn.
“Tomorrow’s a total freebie,” he said. “I sent the emails and turned in the manuscript. I have all day tomorrow to mess around before the guests start arriving on the twenty-second.”
“You might,” I said, “but I don’t. I have to make sure the rooms are ready, and I have to work on the food for the party.”
“I’ll help you,” he said, smiling. “I have all the time in the world.”
“Like you helped with the cookies?” I asked.
“Okay, maybe I’ll leave the cookies to you, but I can fold napkins or clean toilets.” He raised his eyebrows. “Remember, I was a maintenance person.”
“That’s true,” I said, “you were. I think I’ll be able to find plenty for you to do tomorrow.” Hand-in-hand, the two of us walked back to his rental house together, almost like we were returning home to our own, permanent place.
I banished that thought from my head. No, we were two casual adults enjoying what time we had together before going back to our real lives. That was it, and it was enough. At least that’s what I was telling myself.
…
Matt
December 21st, one day past deadline
I pulled Dani closer and nestled my face in her hair. This morning marked the first time we were able to wake up together. Last night, we watched a few episodes of The Simpsons, made tired, groggy, happy love, and fell asleep together. It was the most normal and complete I’d felt in a long time.
I’d turned in my manuscript. That was out of my hands, and now I could just be normal Matt. Dani and I could finish out the month together—I could spend Christmas Eve with her family, we could ring in the New Year together, and then we’d say good-bye.
Damn it, it hurt to think about that.
But Indianapolis was my home. That house was where I’d grown up, and where all my happy memories were stored. Jane and I had come here for the holidays and only for the holidays. She’d made me promise her, and I’d agreed. Coming to Wackernagel was supposed to provide a change of scenery for a short time, full stop.
Dani had given me no indication that she wanted me to stick around, and I understood why. She just got out of a long marriage and was not looking for anything serious. I wouldn’t force that upon her. Better to cut our losses before things inevitably went south.
Plus, I’d never been able to keep a relationship going for more than a few months. Why would Dani and I be any different? If I stuck around, she’d no doubt end up hating me. I couldn’t bear that.
I kissed the back of her head, and she stirred, flipping around to face me. She kissed me, a dry, tight-lipped kiss. “I have morning breath.”
“I don’t care,” I said, kissing her again and wrapping my arms tighter around her. “I want to stay here in bed with you all day.”
She jokingly pushed me away. “Yeah, well, like I told you last night, I don’t have time to mess around. My boss expects to eat, and he’s throwing this big party in two days—”
“Seriously. Screw that guy.”
“I believe I already did,” she said, smiling.
I kissed her nose. “Can’t you go in late?” I asked. “Stay with me just a little longer…” My hands moved down her body, and she arched into me.
We deepened our kiss—morning breath be damned—and I was just about to lift my old Indiana Pacers T-shirt over her head when someone knocked on the bedroom door.
“Mr. Bradford?”
“Jane! Oh my god!” Dani scrunched under the covers.
I waved away her concerns as I got out of bed. “She knows about us, remember?” I wrapped my robe around me, tying the belt at my middle. “Morning, Jane,” I said as I opened the door.
She peered into the room. “Good morning,” she said, nodding. “Dani.”
Dani, who had hid herself under the covers, peeked her hand out to wave.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“The team,” she said. “They want to talk to you—Dave, Kristin, Ingrid, Kevin, all of them,” she said. “I told them you were indisposed”—again, she glanced at Dani—“but they said you all needed to have a conversation.”
“We need to have a conversation?” I said. “Why now? They’re coming to meet with me here in two days.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“What was their tone?”
“No tone,” she said. “This was all over email, so it was hard to tell.” Jane took a beat. “Maybe they want to tell you how good the book is.”
Shit. This was bad. “If they liked it, they’d just say so. Good news doesn’t require a phone call.” I’d been in this business long enough to know that.
“I don’t know about that,” Jane said. “But I wouldn’t fret over it. Maybe they have some specific notes that’d be better delivered verbally. Things get lost in translation over email.”
“Right,” I said, agreeing with her just to end this chat. It was no use speculating. “Let me get dressed. I’ll be right down.”
I shut the door on Jane and turned back to Dani. “Sorry I have to cut our morning short.”
“What’s going on?” Dani asked, brow furrowed with concern.
I forced a smile, no reason to worry her unnecessarily. “The TV folks want to chat. They probably want me to punch up a couple scenes or something. The usual stuff.” I grabbed a pair of jeans from a pile in the corner and sniffed them. They’d do.
She kept watching me, doe-eyed and fearful.
“It will be fine,” I said, pulling on some clothes. “I’m positive.”
“I’ll be around,” she said, “if you need to talk.”
“Thank you.” I kissed the top of her head and left the room, shutting the door behind me.
Whatever message the powers-that-be were about to deliver would mean bad news for me. I could feel it. The world was crumbling down around me. At least I’d gotten one night of freedom and bliss before the death knell officially sounded.
When I got downstairs, Jane shoved a cup of coffee and a comb into my hands. “Video chat,” she said, nodding at the top of my head as she led me into her office just off the foyer.
Blindly fixing my hair, I plopped down into Jane’s desk chair as she opened up her laptop. The screen asking me to “join meeting” appeared. I took one more deep breath. “Here goes.”
Before entering the lion’s den, I plastered on a smile, picturing all of them physically pouncing on me when I showed up. But when I finally gathered up the nerve and pressed the button, I was the first one there. I waited, my eyes darting to Jane, who, trying to keep things positive, shot me a thumbs up and a too-cheery smiled laced with terror.
The video on the screen sprang to life as squares containing familiar faces popped into view. It was like a middle-aged, Botoxed, and bottle-blond version of The Brady Bunch. My agent, Kevin, was there, and so were the showrunners, Dave and Kristin, and my editor, Ingrid. All of them looked dressed for a power lunch. I tried not to focus on my own visage in the ratty, soiled T-shirt and the combed hair that made me look like a toddler going to Christmas Mass. “Hi, everyone,” I said, businesslike.
“Hello, Matty.” My agent tapped some papers on his desk. “Thanks for joining us. We all read through the manuscript you sent yesterday.”
That had been some fast reading—or skimming. The entire book was five hundred pages.
“We love it,” Ingrid, my editor, said. “Great stuff.”
“Really great,” Dave agreed. His showrunning partner, Kristin, nodded her concurrence. “I’m a big fan of the pirate stuff. Some of your best work.”
I nodded, waiting for the rub. This was always how these things went—they fluffed up their prey before going in for the kill.
“The problem is,” Dave said, “and this isn’t coming from me, it’s direct from the studio. They have some notes. Just a few little tweaks.” He frowned to show me he wasn’t the bad guy, that it was simply killing him to tell me this, as he put on a pair of reading glasses and recited words from a paper in front of him. “They want Cassya to kill the pirate captain.” He glanced up. “Kind of a feminism thing, you know, #metoo and whatnot.”
“Okay,” I said, my mind mentally sifting through how I’d manage that. It’d completely change Cassya and Alyster’s storyline, one of my own personal favorite parts of the book, but it wouldn’t be the first time I had to do something like that. I was always open to notes. Oftentimes they led to good, even great, work. Fresh eyes usually led to big inspiration. “I think I can do that.” I decided to say yes now and figure out the logistics later.
“Also,” Kristin chimed in, “the studio would like—and frankly so would we, if we’re being honest”—she nodded toward her partner—“if Markys could come back to Baryos—”
“Probably around the midpoint, because we’d like this to happen in episode four,” Dave said, waving his hand in front of the camera like he was picturing all of this happening on screen.
“Right, episode four,” Kristin agreed. “We want Markys to return to the kingdom, and we really would like him to fly in on a dragon.”
“Didn’t Kevin tell you we wanted dragons?” Dave asked.
Jane, on the other side of the desk, her face almost completely obscured by the open laptop, had gone wide-eyed. I knew my expression mirrored hers. I thought we’d thwarted the dragon problem.
“Yes, he did,” I said, “but I thought that was just a suggestion, a note you felt you had to give me to appease the studio. You all know that’s the thing about my series. No dragons. No magic. No fantasy-based deus ex machina. Just realistic medieval-type royalty doing their thing.”
Jane came around to join me in the chat. “Dragons aren’t really part of the story.”
Kristin grinned. “That’s just the thing, though, right? No one would expect it. Everyone would just be going along, living their lives, and then—boom!—the rightful king shows up on a dragon.”
I looked at my editor, who’d had my back creatively since we started working together over a decade ago. “Ingrid?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I think you should consider it.”
Consider dragons. I’d already done that. I’d considered dragons back when I started writing this series over twenty years ago and when Kevin told me a few weeks ago that I had to. I’d considered them, and I’d consciously and purposefully decided against them. When I went to cons around the country, my fans told me that they loved the series because of its grounding in reality. If I added dragons, they’d hate me more than after the infamous viral video.
“And if I don’t want to consider it?” I asked.
Dave and Kristin shared a look. “We’re going to go ahead and add dragons anyway,” Dave said. “It’s what the studio wants.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. What was I even doing here?
“We’ll obviously need these edits ASAP,” Kristin said. “Maybe we can meet before the premiere party to discuss the first act, which is most important to us now, but we can give you through the holidays to finish the rest of the manuscript.” She checked her phone. “How does Monday the fourth sound?”
Monday, January 4th. They needed me to completely overhaul my five-hundred-page book, the book I’d practically killed myself to finish, in less than two weeks. Even thinking about it made me want to curl up into a ball. Not to mention, this would completely ruin my final days with Dani.
But it was my book, my job, and I owed it to myself and the fans to give it a fair shot.
“Sure,” I said. “I will include dragons.”
“Really, Matt?” Dave asked.
Jane shook her head in disbelief. “What are you doing?” she mouthed.
My agent said, “Matty’s a quick worker, and these are only a few little changes.”
They weren’t, though, were they? They never were. Pulling one thread loosened another, which loosened another and another, until I basically had to start from scratch.
But I was M.C. Bradford, and I wouldn’t let anyone down. Not this time. “Yes,” I said, ignoring the very large pit of dread in my stomach. “I can get it done.”
Again, Dave and Kristin looked at each other. “Okay, if you think you can finish it by the fourth, great.”
“And if I don’t?” I asked. “Only hypothetically, of course.”
“If you don’t, you don’t,” Dave said, shrugging. “We’ll go ahead and film our own version of the story.”
“You can’t do that,” I said, my stomach dropping to my knees.
“They can, Matty,” Kevin said. “It’s in the contract.”
“But it’s my story,” I said.
“It’s our story,” Kristin said, her face brightening into a smile that was supposed to be cheery and comforting but came out as a threat, like a dog baring its teeth as a warning. “It belongs to all of us. You gave us a great foundation, Matt, and we’ll be good stewards of your work. You can trust us.”
I could trust them to add dragons to my carefully crafted dragon-free universe. They were going to ruin my life’s work. They were going to take it and box it up into a generic fantasy world that was a dime a dozen on TV these days.
But not without me. They would not take my creation away from me without me putting up a fight. I’d have to add dragons, yes, but they’d be there on my terms. “Okay.” I nodded. “January fourth. I’ll get it done.”
Before anyone could say another word, I hit the button to end the meeting and shut the lid on Jane’s laptop.
I stood and told her, “No distractions. I mean it.”
Chapter Fourteen
Dani
I didn’t see Matt again after he left to talk to the TV people. He went right to his office after the meeting ended and closed the door, and I got to work getting the house ready for the party and making food in the kitchen.
Late in the afternoon, armed with a fresh cup of tea, I hovered near his door, listening. I couldn’t even hear the click-clack of keys through the wall.
“He’s in there for the long haul,” Jane whispered as she came up the stairs.
Having been caught in the act of loitering, I pulled my ear away from the door and stood up straight, feigning like I’d been about to head back to the kitchen. “Oh, I was just—”
