Finding Mr. Write, page 8
“You don’t need—” Daphne began.
He bowed. “I insist.” He picked up the coffee tray and motioned for her to get the door.
DAPHNE
When they were in the kitchen, Daphne whispered, “I’m not sure we should let them wander around unsupervised. I wasn’t kidding about the grizzly—”
“I need to talk to you.”
She stopped as he set the coffee tray on the counter. A quick glance toward the windows showed the three-person film crew descending the steps. They wouldn’t go far, would they? It’d been a few months since she’d last seen the grizzly, and it’d taken off when it heard her.
“Is it about the guns?” she said. “I’ll open the safe for you and—”
“I’m an accountant.”
Daphne cocked her head, certain she’d heard wrong. “You’re counting on…?”
“I’m an accountant. Not an actor.”
She waited for the punch line. Because there had to be one. Seeing she was stressed over this interview, he was trying to lighten the mood.
“You’re…?” she began.
“A chartered accountant. Chris Stanton. I’m Nia’s accountant, actually.”
She was about to laugh when a memory flashed. Nia and Daphne meeting for lunch when Daphne came to town for the Surrey International Writers Conference.
“Oh, I have a new accountant,” Nia had said. “If you need one, I’d totally recommend him. Super smart. Super sweet. And hot.”
“Hot?”
“Weirdly hot. For an accountant.” Nia paused, fork halfway to her lips. “I shouldn’t say that. Bad stereotyping, Nia. I’m sure there are tons of hot accountants out there.”
“You’re crushing on your new accountant?”
“What? No. Totally not my type. However, if you should need a new accountant…” She waggled her brows. “I could hook you up.”
Oh God. No. Nia wouldn’t.
“Daphne?” Chris said.
She clutched the counter edge, her knees wobbling as her stomach lurched.
“Nia knew…” she began, unable to get the rest out.
“No. I mean, she knows I’m her accountant, obviously. And she offered me a chance at the Zane job, because I kinda needed legal help. A lot of legal help.”
Daphne stared at him.
“No,” he said emphatically. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Nia wouldn’t have set us up if I was some kind of criminal.”
“Just if you were an accountant… when I needed an actor.”
“I have some acting experience,” he said. “Which I, uh, may have exaggerated to Nia… and exaggerated more to you. But Nia didn’t know I was putting on a whole other persona as Chris Ainsworth. That was all me. I played the guy I thought you’d expect, because I really needed the job. Daphne?”
She was running for the bathroom. She made it to the toilet just in time.
“Daphne?” he said behind her.
She frantically waved for him to leave. “Stress,” she mumbled, still looking at the toilet. “I stress-puke.”
Yep, definitely her sexiest trait. And now she was doing it right in front of…
Who was she doing it in front of? She wasn’t sure anymore.
Not an actor.
That was all she could think about right now. Chris wasn’t an actor, and there was a film crew outside.
This was why he’d come clean. He was telling her he couldn’t do this. He’d tried playing Zane—he really had been doing an amazing job—but now he was finished. Somewhere between the security-alarm drama and the firearm questions, he’d realized this was not what he’d signed up for, and he was out.
Quitting the role of Zane Remington.
While a film crew was outside, waiting to interview Zane Remington.
She leaned over the toilet again. Chris wisely retreated and shut the bathroom door.
Why couldn’t he have told her yesterday, when there would have been time to cancel the interview? Or this morning, when the crew showed up early, and she could have claimed he was sick and she’d been about to call them?
This wasn’t Chris’s fault. Okay, it was a little, for lying to her. But also a little her fault for insisting on an actor and shutting Nia down when she suggested anything else. Nia had been working under an impossible timeline, and she knew Chris could handle it—which he had. Daphne should have trusted her.
Daphne had been so desperate to be published. She kept thinking she’d have a chance to come clean. When? Each step—getting an agent, getting a publisher, getting a huge marketing push—had been such a dream come true that she barely dared to breathe for fear of shattering it.
This was her fault for being scared and desperate, for wanting more than the universe deemed her worthy of, and now she was in so deep she couldn’t get out without ruining everything, and that was exactly what she needed to do because she would not pressure Chris to stay—
The door creaked open. She turned and, as she did, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, face blotchy, hair wild, eyes watering, and Chris was standing there, seeing her like this.
Which was the last thing that mattered, wasn’t it?
“I’ll be out in—” she started mumbling when he thrust something into her lowered field of vision. Thrust two things: a bottle of mouthwash and a glass of water.
Daphne’s eyes teared up, which might look adorable on some women, but it just set her nose running.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He gave a laugh that sounded startled. “I think that’s my line, D.”
Hearing him call her by Chris Ainsworth’s presumptuously assigned diminutive set her eyes burning with fresh tears. She’d hated when he called her that… until she realized she didn’t really hate it at all.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he pushed the water into her hand, the glass cool against her sweaty palms.
She shook her head as she took it—and the mouthwash—and turned to the sink. She used the mouthwash and drank the water and then raked her hair back, as if that would help.
“You have no reason to be sorry,” she said.
“Uh, yeah, I do. I wanted to say something before the crew arrived, and then they showed up early, and I should have waited, but with all the questions I couldn’t answer, I panicked. I was terrified of blowing this for you.”
“I understand.”
She stood facing the mirror, trying not to look at him, but still catching his face over her shoulder.
“You don’t need to be so nice, D. I should have realized how stressed you were and held off on the confessional.”
“This is more than you expected, and I understand why you need to quit. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, and I’ll handle it from here.”
He blinked at her in the mirror. “Quit?”
“This is too much. You’re not an actor, and this has escalated out of control. That’s why you told me, right?”
“No.” He laid a hand on her arm and turned her around. “No, Daphne. Not at all. I told you because I realized I need help to pull this off. You deserved to know that you didn’t hire an actual actor. I got caught up in the role, but goofing around on text messages and phone calls is one thing. Being here and pretending to be someone else? Realizing I could get caught out and ruin your career? I couldn’t do that.”
“If you did want to quit, you’re under no obligation—”
“I don’t. Let’s get through this interview and then discuss next steps. My priority right now is not screwing this up for you.”
Her eyes filled with tears again.
“Oh, and by the way…” He leaned into her ear. “I totally read your book. Twice. And I cannot wait for the next one.”
She burst into tears. Not just tears, but jagged sobs that came from nowhere, as if she’d been stuffing all her stress behind a wall, and it finally broke.
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” she said, putting her hands over her face. “Here you are, trying to be nice, and I start ugly-crying.”
“Doesn’t look like ugly-crying to me. And I’m not being nice. I really did love—”
“Stop.” She wagged a finger at him in mock reproval, sniffing back tears. “Keep that up, and I’ll never stop crying. Apparently, I’ve been wound even tighter than I realized.”
He pulled her into a half hug and patted her back. “You’ve been under a lot of strain, and this didn’t help. But I will help. I’m not Chris Ainsworth, who might blithely say asinine things and mess this up for you. I know I’m in over my head, and I need help. But, if it’s any consolation, I also know your book backward and forward. You said Theo uses a composite rifle. She has a compound bow, too, right?”
Daphne sniffled and nodded.
“See? I might barely know my rifles from my shotguns, but I know the book. We can do this. Okay?”
“Okay.” She looked up at him. “Thank you.”
“For being a city boy who might not know which end of a gun to hold?”
She smiled. “For being a guy who’ll admit he doesn’t know which end of a gun to hold. And who’ll lie and tell me I’m not ugly-crying when…” She looked in the mirror and made a face. “Well, between that and stress-puking, it can’t get any worse, right?”
He gave her another quick hug. “It’ll be fine. Now, since the crew is still taking pictures of the pretty scenery, let’s discuss—”
A scream reverberated through the house.
“Was that—?” Chris said.
“From outside.”
Oh no. The grizzly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHRIS
Daphne ran for the patio door as Tika fell in beside her. At this moment, there was one—and only one—thing that Chris should be thinking about.
Holy shit, the film crew is being attacked by a grizzly!
This was not what he was thinking about. At least, not more than tangentially, as he was quite certain they were only being menaced by a grizzly, which was bad, but not the same as an active mauling.
Instead, he was thinking about Daphne, who had gone from stress-puking and stress-sobbing to charging out the door to stave off a grizzly. If he’d been the type, he might have swooned.
He was also thinking of the last time he’d made a girl cry. Seventh grade. She’d asked him to dance, and he’d said no—not because he didn’t want to dance with her but because he had no idea how to dance. He’d found her crying in the cloakroom, which could have been the start of a very sweet middle school romance, if her friends hadn’t threatened to kick the shit out of him.
Now he’d not only made Daphne cry but vomit—the latter definitely being a first, and not a proud one. He’d handled his confession all wrong. He wanted to tell her before he screwed up, and in his panic he hadn’t stopped to realize he could have muddled through a little longer and found a better time.
And now there was a bear. Well, probably a bear. Was it wrong if he was thinking this might actually be a good thing? Not if the film crew got hurt, obviously, but maybe they’d decide they had enough footage and leave. Then he’d be alone with Daphne to talk about where they’d go from here. And… well, he’d be alone with Daphne.
A small grizzly scare. Was that too much to ask for?
Daphne was down the porch steps and running toward the babble of raised voices. As they raced across the open yard, Chris had the thought that he really should get in the lead. He was Zane Remington. He ate bears for breakfast.
Except… and here was where sometimes being a smart guy got in the way of masculine heroics. His brain quite reasonably told him that Daphne was the bear expert, and if he raced into the lead, he’d be the one needing rescue. Better to stay at her heels, ready to offer help and support… and screaming, if required.
Speaking of screaming…
They rounded a cluster of trees to see Sofia pressed up against a tree, babbling in terror while her two camera operators filmed. That was all Chris could see. Sofia and the crew. Not a bear—or beast—in sight.
Daphne and Chris both stopped, and Chris frowned. Were they faking an animal attack for the segment?
“Oh God.” Sofia’s eyes rounded as she saw Chris. “Wh-what is that thing?”
Chris followed her gaze. There, in the tree, was a lump of brown that he’d initially mistaken for a squirrel nest. When he peered at it, beady eyes peered back. A short snout opened to reveal yellowing rodent fangs.
“The porcupine?” He said the word slowly, as if she might actually be looking at a grizzly he couldn’t see.
“That is not a porcupine. It’s as big as that dog!”
Not quite, but he got her point. Including its tail, the beast was nearly three feet long.
“That’s a normal-size porcupine,” he said. “Maybe you’re thinking of hedgehogs? They don’t live in this part—”
“J-just do something. Quick. Before it shoots quills at me.”
“That’s a misconception. You need to get close enough for them to hit you with their tail, which can embed and release quills. If you recall that scene in Edge, where Theo—”
He caught Daphne’s head shake. The media-training package instructed them to connect all interviewer questions to the book, but yes, this probably wasn’t the time.
Chris cleared his throat. “You’re far enough away—”
“N-no, it’s going to attack.”
He looked at the camera duo, still filming, and he briefly wondered whether this was a setup. Novelist saves interviewer from deadly quilled rodent. But the terror on Sofia’s face seemed genuine. In that case…
“All right,” he said, deepening his voice an octave and taking on his authoritative Zane tone. “I’m going to step between you and the beast, while staying out of quill range. Once I’m between you, get out of the way. If it attacks, it’ll come for me.”
He glanced at Daphne, who nodded her approval. As for the porcupine, he swore the critter rolled its eyes. It was just sitting in the tree, shooting them nothing except baleful looks.
“I’m coming over,” he said, and then did exactly that, sidestepping with exaggerated care. “Now, while I said they need to hit you with their tail, it is possible for quills to come dislodged if they lash their tails in anger, which may give rise to the quill-shooting myth. You’ll recall that’s what happened in Edge, which was actually based on an encounter I had myself, deep in the forest. I was confronted by an entire family of porcupines intent on—” He stopped short, mostly because he had no idea where to take that story. “And now I am between you and the beast. Take two steps backward, and Dana will whisk you to safety, while I monitor for signs of attack.”
Daphne sidled over as cautiously as he had. The porcupine watched her, unconcerned.
“No,” Chris said for the cameras as he glared at the porcupine. “Do not look their way. Your attention is on me. I am the threat. Eyes on me.”
Yep, he was pretty sure the critter was rolling its eyes. It gave one half-hearted chatter, and Chris tensed his jaw, his glower intensifying.
“None of that,” he growled.
“We’re clear, sir,” Daphne said.
“All right. Then everyone head back to the house. I’ll follow once you’re all safe.”
“Shouldn’t you shoot it or something?” Sofia said.
The porcupine looked her way, as if affronted.
“No,” Chris said firmly. “We do not shoot animals out of fear. The fear is our problem. This beast is on its own territory, and we are the intruders. It is leaving us in peace, and so we should do the same. Mutual respect between neighbors in our shared forest home.”
Okay, that was a little over the top, but both camera operators made noises of agreement. Daphne steered them toward the house. Then she came back with Tika, who had been keeping her distance from the porcupine.
“Everyone safe?” he said.
Daphne glanced over, caught the amused twitch of his lips, and laughed softly. “Crisis averted, thanks to the fearless Zane Remington,” she said.
“It was nothing, dear lady. Nothing at all.” He tipped an imaginary hat to the porcupine. “You did a fine job in your supporting role. See the front desk for your SAG check.”
Daphne shook her head, and they went to join the others.
DAPHNE
Okay, so the porcupine encounter was… Daphne wanted to say “ridiculous” but then, two hours later, she saw the footage and had to tip her own imaginary hat to Chris. While the raw footage would be fully edited, the magazine execs were anxiously awaiting scenes from this interview—being part of their first foray into TV—so the crew took a break to speed-edit the porcupine encounter while Daphne went inside to clean and prep lunch. When she came out, they had sample footage and it was… well, anything but ridiculous, really.
As an unpublished writer, she’d heard horror stories about the book-editing process. They’re going to do terrible things to your manuscript! They’ll change characters! Rewrite dialogue! Cut scenes! Alicia hadn’t changed a single word—she’d only made suggestions, mostly about higher-level aspects like plot elements—and if Daphne agreed, then Daphne made the changes in her own words. Editing, she’d discovered, was a blessing, helping mold her ramblings into clean and cohesive storytelling.
That’s what the camera crew had done with that raw footage. In their case, it was all cutting. Splice, splice, and resplice to turn an absurd animal encounter into a heroic rescue. In the new version, Sofia and the camera duo had been walking through the woods admiring the scenery when her male camera operator yelped “Look out!” and Sofia saw the porcupine and screamed. A split second later, Chris was there.
Skip the bits where he talked about hedgehogs and downplayed the danger. That would have ruined the tension. Instead, cut straight to him sidestepping into danger’s path, while instructing and reassuring Sofia in his Zane voice. They even left in one part where he referenced the book—her publicist would be thrilled.
From there, cut to a closeup of him glaring at the chattering porcupine. Daphne’d had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing at that, but on film, it actually looked like a tense standoff. Then one final segment of Daphne’s back as she herded Sofia to safety while Chris stood guard against the killer rodent.
