Write Your Own Script

by A. L. Brooks

  Shit. I have to read the whole thing now, just to check.

  Grimly picking up the book again, she turned to chapter six.

  Chapter 17

  “Tamsyn, how lovely to hear from you.” Carmen sounded far too jolly for a Sunday morning and Tamsyn scowled, even though she knew Carmen couldn’t see it. “How is—?”

  “Carmen, I need you to do something for me.” Tamsyn paced in front of the big windows; the grey sky and rough sea perfectly suited her mood.

  “Er, sure. What’s wrong?”

  Tamsyn blew out a breath. “Maybe nothing. Maybe something.” She ran her free hand over her face, rubbing at her tired eyes. Only three hours of sleep had taken a toll. “I need you to read a book and tell me if you think… Well, look, just read it and then call me back.”

  “What? Tamsyn, what the hell are you talking about?”

  Tamsyn growled. “Just trust me, Carmen, please. I emailed you the link to it on Amazon, and I want you to buy it and read it as soon as you can, okay?”

  “Are you okay?” Carmen asked softly.

  “Yes. Mostly.” She didn’t feel the need to elaborate, and she certainly didn’t want to give Carmen any clues as to what the book contained. She’d read it through last night and although she wasn’t named in it, and nor were any of her films, she couldn’t help but worry that people would know it was her. And the last thing she needed was a bunch of lesbians talking about a lesbian romance where she was the lead character.

  “Right.” Carmen sounded dubious. “Well, okay. Send me the link and I’ll give it a read. It’s not some sick horror story, though, is it, because I really can’t—”

  Tamsyn chuckled, but it lacked warmth. “No, it’s not that.”

  “Phew. All right, I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

  “Thanks, Carmen.”

  They hung up and Tamsyn shoved her phone in her pocket. She folded her arms across her chest and gazed, unseeing, out at the view before her. Once again, the same thought that had been careering around her brain most of the night came back to her: how could Maggie do this? How could she take what they’d had and…abuse it so?

  She didn’t know how long it would take Carmen to get hold of the book, so there was no point just sitting around waiting for her to read it. Tamsyn needed to move, to do something with the nervous energy that had built up inside her. Although tired from her sleepless night, she needed exercise, and yoga wouldn’t quite cut it, not today. No, right now she needed wind in her hair and the taste of the sea on her tongue.

  Her walk took her out of the house for nearly four hours. Jennifer had recommended this route for “blowing away any cobwebs you might have” and she was proved right. The coastal path was rugged but manageable in Tamsyn’s walking boots, and she actually relished the challenge of picking her way over some of the trickier sections. The wind was cool but not biting, and she left her hair untied and free to blow in any direction the wind fancied taking it.

  Halfway along the track, she came to a point where the path overlooked another small bay; there was a trail down to the beach below but she stayed up top, soaking in the view, trying hard not to think about how the Maggie she thought she knew would have loved this, and how Gizmo would have loved it even more. That Maggie, as far as she could tell, had been an illusion. Probably couldn’t believe her luck, having a famous actress to shag for the week and then write about. Although… The book wasn’t quite like that. It was much more romantic than they’d been—or let themselves be. In the story, Maggie had them spending several weeks together, not nine days, and knowing by the end of it that they were falling for each other. The two characters—she tried hard not think of them as herself and Maggie—made plans to continue their relationship back in London, despite the actress being so closeted. Gradually, in the weeks and months that followed, the actress realised she had a key choice to make or risk losing the love of her life. Several times, Tamsyn forgot she was supposed to be angry with Maggie and her flagrant misuse of their secret, because the story Maggie had woven pulled her in and had her rooting for them to get that happy ever after.

  She sighed, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in her throat. No, the book didn’t reconcile at all with Maggie being so conniving, and Maggie being so conniving didn’t reconcile at all with the Maggie she had made love with back in Norfolk.

  Whoa. Made love? Since when was she calling it that?

  A strong gust of wind whipped her hair over her face, and with her vision obscured, her mind threw her an image of their last night together, of the connection, the passion, the tenderness they’d shared. She shivered, not from the chill of the wind but from memories of how incredible Maggie had felt inside her, and she in turn inside Maggie. How beautiful Maggie had looked, gazing down at her in the charged moment before their lips touched for yet another searing kiss.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and faced into the wind, letting it buffet her. Yes, those last couple of days, they hadn’t been having sex. At least, not as far as Tamsyn was concerned. And if she allowed herself to really think back on it, on Maggie’s expressions and the look in her eyes, it wasn’t sex for Maggie either. They’d made love.

  And then Maggie had written all about it in a book.

  Tamsyn shook her head. She still couldn’t reconcile the two things in her brain, and was tired of trying. She turned around and headed back to the villa.

  Carmen called her at lunchtime on Monday, an amused tone to her voice that rankled Tamsyn as soon as she heard it.

  “Well, that was a first for me. I always assumed lesbian fiction was just porn for men to get off on. Thank you for re-educating me.”

  “And?” Tamsyn asked, trying not to snap as her impatience threatened to get the better of her. She stood up from the breakfast bar where she’d been preparing her food and walked to the big windows. It was sunnier today; maybe she’d do another, shorter walk later.

  “And what?” Carmen sounded bemused.

  Tamsyn almost growled. “And what did you think? Was it obvious?”

  “I… Tamsyn, what are you talking about? I read the book, I enjoyed it. More than I thought I would once I realised what I was going to be reading. I mean, it would make a cute film, but I can’t see any major studio going for it, and if you wanted this to be your big coming out, well, I can think of better—”

  “No! God, I’m not planning on getting it made into a film, for crying out loud. That’s the last thing I want to do with it.” She took a deep breath. Either Carmen hadn’t seen the main character as a representation of Tamsyn, or she was deliberately winding Tamsyn up. “Did the actress character remind you of anyone?”

  Carmen was silent for a few moments. “No, not really. Why?” Then, before Tamsyn could actually reply, Carmen said, “Wait, are you trying to say that she was based on you?” Carmen laughed. “Oh, Tamsyn, get a grip. I mean, I love you and you’re my favourite client but please, don’t be getting all egocentric on me now. You’ve done very well at avoiding that all these years.”

  Tamsyn didn’t know whether to be affronted or relieved. “You mean it didn’t seem like me?”

  “God, no! Is this why you were so adamant that I read this? You thought someone had written some kind of fanfic about you and you object to being ‘outed’ in it?”

  “Fan what?”

  Carmen sighed. “Another time,” she murmured. “Look, Tamsyn, I think you are totally overreacting. That character, even if she was based on you, bears no resemblance to you. At least not to any part of you the public knows about. Yes, it’s kind of a coincidence that it’s all set in Norfolk where you were earlier this year but she’s a UK author, so why wouldn’t she set a book there?” She paused. “I admit, now you’ve said it, there are some things in there that do remind me of you, but that’s only because I see sides to you the general public doesn’t and because you’ve now made me think about
it.” She chuckled. “Of course, there are plenty of things in there that aren’t like you at all, so clearly the author used poetic licence even if she did start with you in mind.”

  Tamsyn was scared to ask, but did it anyway, her free hand pressing against the cool window as she braced herself for Carmen’s response. “What things weren’t like me?”

  “Oh, um…” Carmen sighed again. “Please don’t make me do this.”

  “No, I really want to know. I won’t bite your head off.”

  “What is it about this book that’s got you so in a tizzy?”

  “Carmen, please. Just tell me.” Tamsyn rolled her eyes.

  “Well,” Carmen began cautiously, “you know, the, um, touchy-feely stuff. That’s not really your style, is it? You know, being all romantic and getting squishy about a dog. You hate dogs.”

  “Not that one.” Tamsyn started as she realised she’d said the words out loud.

  “What one?”

  “Nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

  “Tamsyn, are you okay? I’m really getting worried about you. You haven’t been yourself for ages, since the trip to Norfolk finished actually, and—”

  Tamsyn could almost hear the penny drop inside Carmen’s brain.

  “Oh. My. God.” Carmen’s voice was an octave higher than normal. “Are you serious? It was you? It’s based on reality?”

  Tamsyn groaned and pushed away from the window, then paced a circuit that took her round the dining table and chairs, along the back of the sofa, and back round to the windows again.

  “Tamsyn?” Carmen was more insistent this time. “Talk to me.”

  Tamsyn huffed out a long breath. “Yes. It is me. It is based on reality. Her name is actually Maggie.” Saying her name out loud brought a stab of pain somewhere low in Tamsyn’s belly.

  Carmen exhaled loudly in Tamsyn’s ear. “I’m coming out there.”

  “What? No, Carmen, this is not a problem my agent needs to fix, I—”

  “I’m not coming as your agent,” Carmen said softly. “I’m coming as your friend.”

  Tamsyn managed to squeak an “Oh” around her closed up throat.

  Carmen arrived at around three the next afternoon; Tamsyn didn’t want to think about how much that last-minute arrangement had cost her agent. My friend, she mentally corrected.

  “This place is amazing.” Carmen was standing in front of the windows, soaking up the view. She turned back to face Tamsyn. “I can see why you jumped at the chance when Jennifer mentioned it was free this week.”

  “I still can’t believe you dropped everything to come here.” Tamsyn shook her head. “That’s above and beyond. And probably unnecessary, you realise.”

  Carmen shrugged. “I don’t think so.” She stepped closer, tilting her head. “Something isn’t right with you. As your agent that concerns me, but as someone who considers herself your friend beyond that, it worries me.” Carmen’s brown eyes narrowed.

  Once again that lump threatened to close Tamsyn’s throat. She and Carmen had never done this, and it was unsettling as much as it was warming. Something told her she’d be shedding a few tears before the day ended.

  She cleared her throat. “Want some fizz?”

  Carmen smiled. “Why the hell not. Tell you what, let me grab a quick shower and get into some really comfy clothes. I’ll be back in fifteen, okay?”

  “Perfect.” By then, Tamsyn might have found a way to compose herself ahead of the interrogation, which she knew would be gentle and come from a place of care, so that helped. A little.

  When Carmen returned, looking fresh and happy in a baggy pair of holey jeans and a hoodie, Tamsyn chuckled. “I can honestly say I’ve never seen you looking so casual. Even when we’ve met for dinner or lunch as friends, you’ve always dressed up.”

  Carmen’s laugh was rich, her curly blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders. “I happen to like dressing up. Always have. But every now and then, the occasion demands something much more…shabby.”

  “You pull off shabby very well,” Tamsyn said with a smirk, walking across the living area to hand Carmen a perfectly chilled glass of champagne.

  They clinked glasses, smiling at each other.

  “This never gets boring,” Tamsyn said, tilting her glass.

  “Diva,” Carmen muttered, rolling her eyes.

  Tamsyn snorted with laughter.

  They settled onto the sofa, both facing the big windows. The late afternoon sun cast a beautiful orange glow across the cliffs facing the villa, highlighting nooks and crannies in the rocks, and making the scraggly bushes that clung to them look as if they were tipped with flame.

  “So,” Carmen said eventually, shuffling so she sat at a right angle to Tamsyn. “What is the story behind the book and the trip to Norfolk?”

  “I’ll need a top up of this before we get into that,” Tamsyn said, pointing at her glass.

  Carmen nodded and Tamsyn retrieved the bottle from the kitchen. She refilled their glasses, stood the bottle on the coffee table, and sat back down, turning to face Carmen. A strange tingle of anticipation skittered down her spine.

  She started slowly but was soon stumbling over her words as she rushed into it, until Carmen’s raised hand cut her off.

  “Take deep breaths, Tamsyn. We have all evening, and all of tomorrow. I want to hear everything, but you don’t have tell it all tonight. And you certainly don’t need to skip over the good parts,” she finished with a smirk.

  Tamsyn lifted one eyebrow. “I never kiss and tell,” she said, her tone as haughty as she could manage while trying not to laugh.

  “You will. You’re itching to, I can tell.”

  Sighing, Tamsyn shook her head. “I hate how you can see right through me.”

  Carmen chuckled. “Okay, from the garbled beginning, I understand that Maggie, who is also Maddie Jones and also Jessica Stewart, was staying in the other cottage on my aunt’s estate, yes?”

  “Yes, she and her dog, Gizmo.” Tamsyn smiled, wondering how Snakey was faring.

  “Gizmo?” Carmen’s eyebrows had met her hairline.

  Tamsyn laughed. “He’s the most gorgeous dog, probably ever.”

  “That’s not saying much, given how much you hate them.”

  “No, trust me. Totally adorable.”

  “Okay, okay. As much I want to hear about the dog who won your heart, I’d rather hear about the woman who achieved it.”

  Tamsyn nearly choked on her champagne, wiping at dribbles of it on her chin as she sat bolt upright. “She didn’t win my heart!”

  “Right,” Carmen said, nodding, her eyes narrowed, lips quirked in a half-smile. “My mistake. Please do continue with the tale.”

  Huffing, Tamsyn leaned back against the sofa once more, and, slowly this time, told Carmen the entire story. She did manage it over the course of the evening, with many interruptions for questions or observations from Carmen, and over the remains of the first bottle of champagne and well into another, too. At some point they remembered they needed food and broke off for fifteen minutes to rummage in the fridge and put together a strange assortment of ready-to-eat nibbles coupled with a rich tomato soup. They took it all back to the sofa and ate off their laps while Tamsyn continued to talk.

  It was cathartic, but also brought to the surface a level of emotion she hadn’t acknowledged up to this point. Memories of Maggie, of the way they had been with each other, rocked her. By the time she’d finished, ending with her discovery of Maggie’s other identity by reading the book, and her fear that Maggie had been using her just for a story, she had her arms wrapped around her knees where they were folded up into her chest.

  “You see,” Carmen said, slumping back on the sofa, “that’s where I tend to disagree with you, now that I’ve heard the whole story. I honestly can’t see how this is anything other than her using a bi
t of reality to write a good story.” She paused, shifting in her seat. “And… Well, if I am totally honest, I also think the book was her way of getting the resolution she wanted to happen in reality.”

  It took a moment for Carmen’s words to sink in, but when they did, Tamsyn whipped her head up to stare at her.

  “What?” Her voice was strangled, her heart thumping wildly.

  “Tamsyn, she’s written the love story she wishes she’d had with you. The happy ending. The pair of you riding off into the sunset.” Tamsyn snorted but Carmen ploughed on. “Yes, I know, that’s the last thing you want. But she did, I think.” She paused and took a deep breath. “And I also think she wrote the happy ending she wanted for you in your own right. Out of the closet, free to be you, free to live the life you’ve been denying yourself all these years.”

  Tamsyn couldn’t listen to it; there was a rushing in her ears, and her blood suddenly felt as if it were molten lava coursing through her veins. She stood up, stomping away from the sofa over to the big windows. It was long dark by now, so all she saw was her own reflection, and the reflection of Carmen sitting on the sofa behind her, unmoved.

  “That’s…ridiculous,” Tamsyn said, almost to herself.

  “Not to me it isn’t,” Carmen said firmly. “And I think, deep down, it isn’t to you either.”

  “But…”

  “But what?”

  “We…we had a deal,” Tamsyn asserted, even as, way down deep in her soul, she knew she didn’t believe it herself. “No strings. That’s what we said.”