by Jennifer Joy
"Ah, but that's the beauty of fiction. It's my chance to say the perfect thing when in real life, I don't think of the perfect comeback until the next day."
She laughed. "That happens to me all the time! It'll wake me up from sleep at two in the morning, and it takes every ounce of self-control in my possession not to call the person and tell them."
Evidently Will wasn't included in the group of people with whom she must exercise restraint. She called at all hours often just to tell him she was thinking about him.
She shook her head. "Enough about me. I want to hear about you. What have you been up to this last week? I asked Charlie, and he wasn't aware of an immediate deadline."
Will chuckled. He’d known she'd ask Charlie what he was working on. The first draft of his newest novel wasn't due for another three months. "You know I like to work ahead. It takes the pressure off." That, and he hadn't wanted any distractions tonight. Liz deserved better than to compete with the characters in his mind. He wanted to be fully present for her.
Speaking of which... Will let his eyes linger over her. He had committed every detail — from the tiny scar she hid with makeup above her eyebrow to the heart-shaped birthmark on the inside of her left arm — to memory, but tonight his heart thundered in his chest like it had the first time he'd seen her.
He must have smiled because she returned it. Surely, she read what he so wished to tell her in his eyes. Surely, she knew how much he loved her. How his greatest wish was to hold her hand every day and kiss her every night.
He shifted his weight to scoot his chair back, but stopped when Liz's eyes narrowed and her lips twisted into a scowl. Will was crushed to receive such a look of disdain until he realized she looked at something behind him. Or rather, someone.
Will didn't need to look over his shoulder to know who Liz glared at with unconcealed derision.
"Mr. Donovan. Miss Benetti. How pleasant for me to see you together this evening. You make a handsome couple," Burgess' sharp voice enunciated every syllable to exaggeration, making his compliment sound more like a threat.
"Mr. Burgess, I don't believe I've had the honor of meeting your wife," Liz said, flashing a smile at the elegant woman looking down her nose at them.
Mrs. Burgess pinched her lips together and raised her chin higher as Burgess introduced them. Will had heard she considered herself a connoisseur of the arts, but he had never met her before. He didn't think he'd missed out on much.
"Charmed, I'm sure. Congratulations on your little movie," she said in a nasal tone, fluttering her bejeweled fingers patronizingly in dismissal. "Hollywood is a good alternative for those who aren't up to the task of upholding the higher standards of the true masters in the literary world. They do not need to sell out to garner attention. Their work is strong enough to speak for itself."
Will saw the fire flash in Liz's eyes. She cowered before no one. "Indie films can hardly be considered inferior entertainment."
Mrs. Burgess sighed, clearly too bored to continue with the conversation.
Will knew her type and refused to engage. She already considered her opinions too superior to change, and talking with her was a waste of breath. All Will had to do was look in the waiter's direction to signal for him to come over, which he did promptly.
"Ah, what incredible service at the Starlight Terrace," said Burgess with a pinched smile, adding, "Please assist Mrs. Burgess to the coat room to retrieve her fur. I would like to exchange a brief word with Mr. Donovan." He handed him the ticket.
Will nodded at the waiter, too curious to send Burgess packing before he’d said what he wanted. Better to hear it in person now than later in his column — the one secured by his influential, moneyed wife.
Liz looked like a volcano ready to explode, but Will admired how she attempted to keep it under control with deep breaths.
As soon as his wife crossed the room, Burgess said, "How fortuitous for me to see you two together this evening. It confirms my suspicion."
"What suspicion?" Will asked. There was nothing untoward about him spending an evening with his favorite person.
Burgess took his time answering, reveling in the knowledge only he possessed. Will couldn't think of any possible scenario in which him being seen with Liz was a disadvantage. Not that he would care if it did. It was his life, and he wanted her to be a part of it ... if she would have him. The longer it took for him to ask the question burning in his heart, the more doubt played its malicious games in his mind.
"I won't be the only one to find the timing of Miss Benetti's last post convenient. One week after Sundance announced its nominees, a time when all the writers and producers are campaigning for publicity, she writes a scathing review of an author who has proved to be more successful than Will Donovan. The comments made comparisons between the two, and one even suggested that their styles of writing are so similar as to hint at plagiarism."
No author wanted the stigma of plagiarism attached to their name. A cold shiver burst through Will, leaving his skin prickly. He looked at Liz. Was it true?
“I never encouraged a comparison. I made no mention of Will in my review,” she replied coolly.
“And yet the comparison was made. Brilliantly contrived, mademoiselle.” He bowed to her.
“Your quarrel is with me, Burgess. Leave Liz out of it,” Will snapped, his fists clenching on top of the table.
“I see I have struck a nerve. I’m closer to the truth than I supposed…,” Burgess let his taunt trail off.
Liz’s cheeks deepened to the shade of her lipstick. “My review was merely my opinion. I never encouraged such a comparison. If a reader states their view on my blog, or anywhere else on the Internet for that matter, who am I to censor them? Besides, Will's novels were published years before Dasher's first work. If there is any suggestion of plagiarism, it's obvious who's at fault.”
A wave of nausea gripped Will. To have his work and that of another author's — especially one who charmed the masses with his pulse-quickening action adventures — compared when they were polar opposites, made him sick. Worse still if Burgess thought he put Liz up to it just for the publicity it would garnish.
“That doesn't matter in the least. What I find interesting is the timing of it all. I think a lot of my readers will agree that any author who would reduce himself to smear campaigns against another at a time when he has the most to gain is most desperate indeed.” Burgess tapped his goatee and grinned maliciously.
“Will didn't put me up to anything. I've run my blog for several years on my own, and I've never backed down from expressing my opinion on what I read. And I'm not about to back down now either.” Liz glared defiantly at Burgess, throwing down the gauntlet fearlessly.
Her ferocity thawed Will, warming the chill stiffening his limbs. “She’s not afraid of you, Burgess. You’ll come out the loser, so I encourage you to leave her out of it.”
“It would give me great pleasure to humiliate you as publicly as you attempted to discredit me,” Burgess hissed.
As if Will had wanted him to write a scathing review on his debut novel — the very one up for an award for its movie version. “You brought that on yourself. I took no pleasure in it.”
“As if you had nothing to do with it when I’m certain it was your agent, Charlie Parker, who schmoozed his way into the favor of the press,” Burgess retorted.
“They gave an honest review. Or would you accuse the New York Times of accepting some sort of bribe just to soothe your ego?”
A waft of acrid cigar smoke hit Will when Burgess stepped toward him. “This business is all about popularity. Of visibility. Getting noticed among the masses. You used me to get where you are, and I despise you for it.”
“You've said enough, Burgess. Despite what you may think, there is nothing you can twist in your favor here. Liz stated her opinion as she always has, and I will continue to write stories you'll take delight in picking apart and criticizing to your adoring public. You express your opinions freely
as Liz does. Or would you prefer for me to imply that your wife writes your articles for you?”
Will had the satisfaction of seeing Burgess' complexion pale. He blustered, "She wouldn't dare. Unlike some, I take pride in my work and would not put up with the interference of others merely to boost my visibility."
Will reached out for Liz's hand before she attacked the man. "Then I suggest you attune yourself to the wants of your audience and express yourself in a more entertaining manner lest your fade into obscurity."
"Did you put your girlfriend up to this, Donovan?" Burgess asked directly, fishing for a quote he’d use for his nefarious purpose.
"No." Will would love for Burgess to do with that what he would. The benefit of saying little was the inability of others to misquote him.
"You offer no defense?" Burgess pressed.
"Defense is not necessary when no wrongdoing has been done."
"You're telling me that the person you're closest to didn't seek to put you in the spotlight through her article to garner the support of the public? That's what's happening. Other book bloggers have already posted pieces expressing their support for you on the sole basis of her accusations."
"I accused no one," Liz said.
"Does it matter? It's in the comments, and people are reacting. They're rising up in Will Donovan's defense — your boyfriend's defense. I bet that's good for sales..."
"Save it for your editorial, Burgess." Will forced a calm demeanor though his heart hammered against his ribs.
"I will. Oh, I will," Burgess said with enough glee to set Will's teeth on edge.
With a bow, he departed.
"Good riddance," Liz exclaimed, her hand shaking as she reached for her wine glass.
Will could have kicked himself. No matter how busy he had been the past week, he should have taken the time to read her blog. He had avoided it, knowing the distraction it would cause. He would have spent too long looking at her picture, missing the sight of her.
Chapter Six
Liz drained her wine glass, then pushed back in her chair. "I need to get to my computer. I refuse to allow Burgess to use me to get to you."
"Stay," Will said, his throat tight with panic. He couldn't fathom how he could turn the evening around again to propose, but he was unwilling to give up.
"And allow him to ruin your career?"
"He can't ruin my career." Make him miserable and call his reputation into question, absolutely. But politicians survived much worse and still got elected... A little bad publicity couldn't hurt that much, could it?
Liz's jaw dropped. "Don't you remember what happened with the two authors who accused each other of plagiarism last year? The notoriety they got lost them both fans, and while one of them continues writing, the other had to unpublish all of her work even when nothing was proved in court. No, Will, Burgess has a figurative gun pointed at you and I handed him a silver bullet." Completely indifferent to her makeup and hair, she ran her hand over her face and shoved it into her hair, only to get tangled in hair pins. She was so near tears as she tried to extricate her fingers from her curls, Will was willing to leave to spare her the embarrassment of breaking into tears in the restaurant.
The waiter cleared his throat at Will's side. "My deepest apologies, Mr. Donovan, but there is a man who insists he must see you immediately."
Will looked incredulously at the waiter. "Here? Whoever it is can wait." Nobody outside of Charlie was aware of his plans for the evening, and Charlie knew better than to interrupt him on the night of his proposal.
He handed Liz his handkerchief. “Come, Liz. I think it’s time to go.”
She dabbed her eyes. “Will, the man came all the way here to see you. You ought to see what he wants.”
The waiter clasped his gloved hands. "I apologize, Mr. Donovan, but the gentleman called several times before making an appearance in our bar."
"That sounds like Charlie," Liz said, her reddened eyes wide in concern.
The waiter nodded. "He gave his name as Charlie Parker. He said it was a matter of life and death or else I never would have interrupted your meal."
Liz groaned. "I bet this is about my post. Oh, Will, I've killed your career. What was I thinking? You simply must talk to him right now."
"And leave you? Why should you be punished for a review — especially when you run a book blog, for heaven's sake? What do people expect? For you to only post positive reviews? Burgess of all people should appreciate that. He rarely gives positive feedback, and he's infamous for being hard on debut authors. Let him write what he wants about me. He's done it before, and it certainly hasn't ruined my career."
"But that was before you became a recognized name. People know who Will Donovan is now. The media will pick up on it knowing that their viewers would love to hear a little dirt on the author hailed until now as a gentleman with a tender heart."
Will rubbed his chest. He'd worked hard to gain a good reputation, not just his social persona but in real life. It pained him more than he let on for his very character to be called into question and trampled through the mud, but it was worse to see how it affected Liz.
"So long as you don't believe his accusations, I can endure it," he said.
"Oh, Will, don't you see how miserable this makes me? I'm the cause of this whole problem. I stand by what I wrote, but I won't sit and twiddle my thumbs when I can see how it can harm the man I love more than my stupid blog."
He knew how hard she'd worked on her blog, and while it warmed his heart to hear that she loved him more, he would never ask her to sacrifice something she’d worked so hard on just when it seemed to be getting some traffic.
The waiter shifted his weight. Will needed to act quickly. "Please bring Miss Benetti a chocolate dessert and a cup of strong, black coffee. I will see what Mr. Parker wants, but then I would like to enjoy the rest of our evening undisturbed."
The waiter nodded, and Liz slumped in her chair massaging her temples without a word in protest.
To her, he said, "I will be back in five minutes. No more. Then, we will discuss what to do. I refuse to let this spoil our evening."
“Some celebration this turned out to be, huh?” She shook her head, her distress only helped by the spark of hope that straightened her posture when he said he'd talk to Charlie. The promise of chocolate may have helped.
He crossed the restaurant, the muscles in his shoulders tensing the closer he got to the dimly lit bar. Even the jazz music, soft and seductive from the other side of the room, sounded harsh and intrusive as he distanced himself from Liz.
Charlie had better have a real emergency on his hands ... if he knew what was good for him.
Will saw Charlie fidgeting with an empty shot glass on the bar. His hair stood on end as if he'd been tugging it, and he stood up much too fast when his darting eyes finally settled on Will.
"This had better be good," Will said through his teeth. His feet carried him to the bar, but his heart stayed with Liz.
"Have you asked her yet?" Charlie answered with another question that had nothing to do with his reason for barging in where he shouldn't. Or so hoped Will.
"It's been a rather busy night. I haven't had an opportunity." He would tell Charlie about the balloons later. Right now, brevity was key.
"Why haven't you asked her yet?"
Will could have told his friend about Liz’s misunderstanding, but he was too angry. Charlie needed to get to the point. "Because I'm talking to you. Tell me what's so blasted important it couldn't wait until the morning."
"Tell Liz she needs to do some immediate damage control on her blog. The comments on her Dasher review are getting out of hand." Charlie rubbed his hands over his hair. "If Burgess sees it, he'll twist it against you. Not understanding that other people possess more integrity than him, he'll think you put her up to it. It would be catastrophic for your career and reputation if he started making accusations."
Will took a seat next to Charlie, feeling heavy. "He already knows
."
Charlie said nothing. He sat, signaled the bartender for a refill, and tossed the contents of the glass back in one big gulp.
"How many of those have you had?" Will asked.
When Charlie kept silent, the bartender offered to call a cab to see Mr. Parker safely home. Will pulled out his notepad and pen, starting to write Charlie's address down before his speech became too slurred to be understood, and earning him a glare from his long-time friend.
"I'll take a cab home, but I'm done for the evening." Charlie placed his hand over his glass to emphasize his point.
"Charlie, Liz is waiting for me. I need to get back to her. She's taking Burgess' threat too seriously. As are you." Will rose to stand, forcing his legs to hold him up.
"Oh God, dear Lord..." Charlie mumbled, rubbing his hair into a frizz.
"Are you praying or resorting to euphemisms?" Will asked as he laid enough bills on the bar to cover Charlie's drinks. Any gentleman would do the same. Burgess would know that if he looked past his injured pride and resentment.
"I'm praying. We'll need divine intervention when the press gets ahold of this. Your name will be vilified all over the media right before the Sundance Festival. All the work I've done to promote you will be for naught. People will hate you, call you a spoilsport who couldn't handle a little competition."
"You make me sound like a pariah. I don't have anything against Dasher. We don’t even write the same kinds of books. Burgess is full of hot air."
“I know that. But everything is about appearances in show business. The truth won't matter if people don't believe it.”
“So we can sue him for libel if it comes to that. I won’t grant him the power to hold anything against me or Liz.”
“He’s clever enough to avoid publishing anything that could be used against him in court. He’s a master at suggestion, and he’s been handed the perfect smear campaign on a silver platter ... and it was done by your fiancée.”