by Nina Lindsey
Pulling her arm away from her mother’s grip, Callie turned to finish unpacking. No matter how many excuses she came up with to get away from the computer, the book proposal would be waiting for her when she got home. And it wasn’t going to rewrite itself.
She should cancel the movie on Wednesday with Jake. She couldn’t afford to spend more time with him—not with her heart…er, her book at risk.
“Did Rory tell you I’m not coming for dinner on Wednesday?” She yanked open the refrigerator and pushed a carton of milk into an empty space. “So you, she, and Aria can spend as much time as you want talking about what a tyrant I am. My students do it all the time, so why not my family too?”
“Now stop it.” Eleanor put her hands on her hips, compressing her lips. “You are a woman who has never apologized for or questioned who you are, and I won’t let you start now. What’s going on?”
Callie’s throat tightened. She closed the fridge, averting her gaze. Part of her ached to tell her mother everything—all about Jake and her shockingly strong feelings for him, and then about the book proposal that had her questioning her scholarship, even the fact that she’d spent fifteen minutes staring at the sea of beige, taupe, and tan suits in her closet and wondered when she’d stopped living in color. Or if she’d ever lived that way in the first place.
“Nothing.” She folded the paper grocery bags and set them in a cabinet drawer. “I’m just busy with classes and the tenure review. Once that’s over, things will be better.”
She hoped. There was still a good chance she’d be denied tenure and have to find another job somewhere else.
“Sit down.” Eleanor picked up the teapot and started filling it with water. “I’ll make us some tea, and we’ll split a muffin.”
“No, I should get going.” She hugged her mother, holding on for longer than usual. “I have to get some work done. I’ll see you soon.”
“All right, dear.” Eleanor set the teapot down, her eyes worried. “Try and take it easy, okay? Go out with a friend or take a walk on the beach. Like I tell Rory, it’s not good for you to be in front of the computer all the time.”
That was the problem, Callie thought as she headed back to her house. She hadn’t been in front of the computer enough the past couple of days because she’d been spending so much time with Jake.
Movie Star Jake who wanted to turn down a multi-million-dollar deal to pursue smaller, more serious roles. Film Buff Jake who knew about French New Wave cinema and all the classics. Warm Sexy Jake who made her skin tingle with one touch and who looked at her as if she were magical.
Temporary Jake who was leaving soon—maybe sooner than expected.
After returning home, Callie sat at the desk in her bedroom and focused on her proposal. He was leaving. She was staying.
Even if that wasn’t the case, there was no way a Classics professor and an international movie star could ever make a real relationship work. He’d go back to his jet-setter Hollywood life, traveling the world making movies and going to award shows, and she’d lecture about the Furies and grade papers.
There was zero possible way two such opposite people and lives could ever mesh, so she might as well get that idea out of her head right now.
Straightening, she put her hands on the keyboard. Greek myths. Contemporary culture.
Her phone buzzed. Against her better judgment, she glanced at the screen. God. Just the sight of his name made her heart jump.
Ignore it, Callie. Let it go to voicemail.
“Hello?” Her voice came out high and breathless.
“Hey.” His voice was deep and sexy. “Am I bothering you?”
All the time.
“No.” She stared at her computer screen. “Just working on my book proposal. Unsuccessfully.”
“Why do you have to rewrite it anyway? Didn’t the editor like it?”
“No.” Letting out a breath, Callie leaned her head on the back of her chair. “She wants me to make it more cutting-edge, whatever that means. They want the book to appeal to a wider contemporary audience, and my approach was too dry and academic. Her words, not mine.”
“So how does she want you to change it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think she knows either. I’m just supposed to make it fresher and more interesting. I was thinking of finding ways to link Greco-Roman mythology to popular culture. But I don’t know a lot about popular culture.”
“I do. A ton of movies and books are based on Greek myths, from Wonder Woman to My Fair Lady and Percy Jackson, even the Nike brand. There’s a romantic comedy coming out this summer based on the Orpheus myth, which I don’t know what that’s about, but the lead actress played my sister in the first Fatal Glory movie. There’s a lot of buzz that this will be her breakthrough role.”
Callie tapped her pen on the desk. “That’s quite interesting, actually. I study all the ins and outs of Greek myths, but at heart they’re just really good stories. It’s no wonder people want to reinvent them.”
“There’s even a Three Stooges movie where they kill the Cyclops and meet Hercules. I think Led Zeppelin did a song about Achilles, too.”
“Rory would know about that.” Callie straightened, tightening her grip on the phone. “My students would, too. I bet they’d love it if I’d bring more pop culture ideas into the classroom. I could do a whole unit on how ancient history and myths are embedded in contemporary society. Likely in ways we don’t even realize.”
“Sounds like a great idea to me. I can probably get you clips or promo materials for any movies or TV series you’d want to include.”
“That would be fantastic. I’m going to write this up as part of my book proposal. Can I call you back la…wait, why did you call?”
“To tell you I’m picking you up at seven on Wednesday night.” Amusement threaded his voice. “But if I find you pounding away at your keyboard in a state of frenzied scholarly writing, I will be more than happy to sit on the sofa and watch you work.”
Callie laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll also make an effort to be presentable and ready to go.”
“So will I.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Can’t wait to see you again.”
Everything inside Callie softened. “Me too. You, I mean. I can’t wait to see you.”
His warm, low chuckle echoed right through her. “Get to work, Professor.”
“Yes, sir.” Callie ended the call, still smiling as she turned back to her computer and started to write.
“Do you know alphabetical order?” Sam stuck a chewed-up pencil behind his ear and eyed Jake with a frown.
Even though it was Jake’s first day on the job, and Sam showed no signs of recognizing him as a movie actor, he was mildly offended by the question.
“Only twenty-five letters,” he said. “I don’t know Y.”
Sam’s expression didn’t change. He pointed to several boxes in front of the romance novel shelves. “Those go on the shelf in alphabetical order. Don’t screw it up.”
“Not in the habit of screwing things up.” Jake opened the top box and started putting the paperbacks on the shelf. “So how long’ve you been here?”
“Thirty-one years.”
“I mean, the bookstore. When did you open it?”
“About six months ago.” Sam pushed up the sleeves of his untucked denim shirt. “I was told it used to be a craft store or something.”
“Oh, yeah. Knitty Witty. What happened to them?”
“Owner retired and closed, I guess. There hadn’t been a bookstore in town for three years, so I opened one.”
“Where’d you move here from?”
“Back east.” Sam shuffled back to the counter. “You get two fifteen-minute breaks during your shift.”
Jake turned back to his task. He hadn’t worked a “regular” job for years. He’d moved to Los Angeles right after graduation and spent three years working low-level set jobs and auditioning before landing small roles in a sci-fi movie, a low-budget western
, and a spy thriller. The director of the thriller had mentioned Jake to another director, who was looking to cast the first Fatal Glory movie. After several auditions, he got the part, and Blaze Ripley was born.
It was a good role. A great role. Blaze wasn’t all that different from most action heroes—smart, witty, never-give-up—but there was no question Jake had enjoyed bringing him to life. He hated the thought of Blaze’s six-movie journey coming to a laughable ending instead of the happy one he’d fought so hard for.
After shelving all the romance novels, he went into the backroom for his fifteen-minute break. He took out his cell to join a scheduled conference call with Pete, the Fatal Glory 7 director, and one of the studio execs.
“Jake, dude, how the hell are you?” Pete shouted over the background noise of LA traffic. “Can’t wait to get started rehearsing.”
“There won’t be any rehearsals unless the script is overhauled.”
“Jake, let’s just calm down for a minute,” Mark, the studio head, put in smoothly.
“I’m plenty calm. I’m telling you I’m not signing the contract until I approve of the script.”
“What the…” Pete’s voice rose to a screech. “You don’t get script approval, dude. It’s my movie.”
“Petra doesn’t die. Blaze doesn’t get abducted by aliens or fall in love with a Zorgian princess. We go back to the actual story of a Navy SEAL on a mission.”
“Bor-ring.” Pete groaned.
“Sci-fi is huge right now, Jake,” Mark said. “If we catch the wave, we’ll take Blaze on a whole new journey. The universe is the limit. Get it?”
“No aliens. No space-ray guns. Petra is alive and well, and there are no scenes of her naked in a bubble bath or anywhere else. She and Blaze are still partners, but this time as husband and wife.”
“That’s not going to work.” Irritation edged Mark’s tone. “We can’t have a blockbuster film with a husband-and-wife team and no new love interest.”
“I got it!” Pete shouted. “We throw in a sexy double-agent…maybe Japanese or something…and Blaze has an affair with her!”
Jake gritted his teeth. “Blaze is not having an affair. Do you know this character at all? He’s loyal to a fault and would never cheat on anyone, least of all his wife. The woman he loves more than life.”
“Oh my god.” Pete’s laugh filtered over the line. “This isn’t a rom-com, dude. Or a tragedy.”
“No, it’s not. If you’d think about the story and characters, you’d know the natural progression is for Blaze to become a father and take his—”
“What?” Pete screeched. “A father? What is this, Daddy Daycare? Mark, I can’t work like this.”
“Jake, you need to leave the screenwriting up to the pros.” Mark’s voice rose an octave. “We agreed to one helluva deal to keep you onboard, but I can’t have you getting difficult.”
“I can’t have you fucking up the character I helped create,” Jake snapped.
“Do you know how many actors we have lined up to take over the Blaze Ripley role?” Mark retorted. “Hundreds. Especially after you assaulted that reporter. Yeah, the studio will take a hit selling fans on a new actor, but hell, it worked for James Bond. It’ll work for Blaze Ripley. So you damned well better remember that you’re replaceable.”
“Then good luck replacing me.”
Smothering a burn of anger, Jake ended the call and called his agent.
“Richard?”
“Yeah, man.” Impatience cut through his agent’s voice. “When does your flight land? Or are you driving? Why would you drive? You want me to send up a limo or a town car? I’ll get you that good driver…what’s his name…Bernie.”
“No.” Jake pulled in a heavy breath. “I’m not coming back yet.”
“Why the hell not? We need to finalize this deal yesterday.”
“I’m not signing the contract, Rich.”
After a second of silence, his agent barked out a laugh. “Oh, man, you’ve got balls of steel. Okay, okay. What the hell else do you want? I’ll go back to the table, but I gotta tell you, the studio won’t take well to being strong-armed after what they agreed to.”
“No. I’m not doing another Fatal Glory movie. I’m done with the franchise.”
“Phone cut out there for a second. I thought I heard you say you’re done with the franchise.”
“That’s what I said.”
“What the…” Richard sighed heavily. “Look, I know it’s been rough, man. We’re still working on the whole Jake Ryan Punches Reporter thing, but this contract is your ticket! Once the press finds out that you’re doing Fatal Glory 7 and you start doing interviews and appearances, no one will give a shit anymore about some stupid incident. Trust me, the studio is going to roll out a crap ton of advanced buzz and—”
“Rich, I’m not doing it. The script sucks. The story is laughable. The director is an asshole. I can’t stop the studio from making the movie, but it won’t be with me.”
More stunned silence. “Clearly your stay in Buttfuck Town is affecting your brain. You get your ass back down here, sign on the dotted line, and rake in millions for both of us.”
“No.” Jake’s shoulders tensed. He was done with feeling guilty. Rich had a huge slate of A-list actors who made him plenty of money. Jake had signed on with him after the fourth Fatal Glory movie, but he still wasn’t Rich’s biggest client. “I appreciate everything you’ve done but—”
“Then get down here and sign the fucking contract! Is this about you wanting serious roles again? Haven’t we had this conversation a million times? You’re a type, man, the perfect, handsome muscular action hero that all the girls fall in love with and all the guys want to be. This franchise is a success because of you. You try to play some drugged-up loser or abusive husband, and your fan base will revolt. You’ll lose them faster than you can say, ‘straight to video.’ Then your career will be back in the toilet, except this time you’ll get flushed down with the rest of the shit.”
“I’m not doing it, Rich.” Jake stared at a poster advertising a new mystery novel series. “You can support me or not, but I’m not signing the contract. I’ll call Hal over at the studio and explain.”
Rich swore again. “You’re making a huge mistake. I’m not pulling the plug yet. Take a few days and—”
“I don’t need a few days.” A strange lightness filled his chest. “I’m not doing it.”
“Then you’re a bigger fucking idiot than I thought you were. You must need rehab or something because—”
Jake ended the call and texted his assistant to send Rich an extravagant thank-you gift. It wouldn’t do much to appease his agent’s fury, but Jake was thankful for all that Rich had done for him. The problem was he needed an agent who didn’t try and bully him out of wanting a change in his career.
Though he didn’t like the hard left turn the studio was taking with Blaze’s story, the continuation of the franchise would mean plenty of jobs for the production crew. That was something, at least.
He dragged a hand over his face. He wanted to call Callie and talk to her, hear her smooth, calm voice, but she was on campus and he didn’t want to bother her when she was working.
He left the breakroom and continued shelving books. He had no doubt there would be plenty of fallout over his walking away from Fatal Glory, but Hollywood was nothing if not fast-paced.
He’d take his lumps for a while, then everyone would move on to the next big story. And now that he wouldn’t be spending the next year in rehearsals and filming, he’d have time to do whatever he wanted.
Not that he knew exactly what that was yet.
“Well, look at this. A bookstore that’s actually open.” A woman’s voice, edged with sarcasm, came from the front of the store.
“I was open yesterday too,” Sam said.
“Did anyone ever tell you that opening your business whenever you please is a poor business model? Successful retail stores should maintain regular hours.”
/> “I’ll keep that in mind,” Sam replied dryly.
The woman made a harrumph sound and rounded a shelf toward Jake. Pausing, she looked him over with interest.
“Hello, there.” She was in her early fifties with coiffed blond hair and cat’s-eye glasses. “You’re new here.”
“How can I help you?” Jake stood from his crouched position and dusted his hands on his jeans.
“I’m looking for a copy of Pride and Prejudice. We’re reading it for my book club.” She slipped her gaze over his chest. “Has anyone ever told you that you could be Mr. Darcy?”
“No, but thanks. I think.” He started toward the fiction section. “I’ll check the shelf for you. If we don’t have it in stock, we can order it.”
“Are you interested in gardening?” She took a sheet of paper from her large bag, which was embellished with cacti plants. “I’m Mabel Bowers. We like to invite all new residents to join the Ground Hogs, which is our local gardening club. We get together for community gardening, idea exchange, workshops, tours, potlucks…all sorts of things. We’d love to have you join us.”
“Thank you, but I’m only in town temporarily.” He pulled the book from the shelf and handed it to her.
His heart sank. She was staring at him, her mouth open and her eyes filling with the dawning recognition he’d learned to recognize over the years.
“I’ll bring it over to the register for you.” Ducking his head, he strode to the front counter.
“Aren’t you…” She hurried after him, her voice rising. “This is crazy, but you look so much like—”
“Mrs. Bowers, did you know we have a new book on garden design?” Sam rounded the counter and grabbed the book from Jake.
“No, I didn’t.” She glanced from Jake to Sam, her hand coming up to her throat. “I was just saying your new employee is—”
“Come on, I’ll show you.” Taking hold of Mrs. Bowers’ arm, Sam steered her toward the back of the store to the Gardening and Horticulture section.