Unscripted

by Davis Bunn

  Megan woke the next morning ready to face the day. She glanced at her watch and saw it was not yet seven. She’d hoped to sleep longer, but the hours had done their magic and she felt rested. The banked-up fatigue was still with her, but she had been living with that ever since moving to LA.

  She entered the kitchen, greeted her parents, and accepted a mug of coffee. Hummingbirds flittered about the three backyard feeders, their wings flashing gold in the sunrise. The flowers glistened like an Impressionist oil, which meant her mother had been out already, watering them before the sun grew too hot.

  Her mother said, “Your phone’s been buzzing like an angry hornet.”

  “Which is why I left it downstairs.” Megan drank more coffee. She felt as though she was trying to listen beyond sound. Her awareness was often like this before entering the courtroom. At such times, being able to detect the unseen foe was vital. The opposition was constantly trying to upend her case, attack from the high grass. Megan could not yet see the hunters. But the conversation with Gary had confirmed that they were out there. Her job was to find out why, discover their weakness, and turn them into prey.

  When her phone buzzed with another incoming call, Megan was ready. Which was very good indeed, because when she picked up the phone, the readout said Aaron Seibel.

  She stood looking at the screen. Her former boss had never phoned her. Not once in four and a half years. If he’d wanted her, he’d used the nearest minion to issue a summons.

  She touched the screen. “This is Megan.”

  “What is this, you’re playing hard to get? With me?”

  “What can I do for you, Aaron?”

  “Look, I’m going out on a limb for you. The partners were adamant that we deposit your career in the nearest dumpster. But I know a good thing when I see one. So I fought for you.”

  Megan saw her mother step into the kitchen doorway, no doubt drawn by the sudden shift in the home’s atmosphere. The subtle charge before the storm erupted. Megan waved her away, then seated herself on the stairs leading up to her bedroom. “I’m listening.”

  “Junior partner. Your own client list. Two associates assigned to you full-time. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds like I’m missing something.”

  “Excuse me?” Aaron sounded impatient. “This is the point where you thank me.”

  Megan pondered the carpet by her feet.

  “You’re too good to lose, Megan. I did my magic and convinced the partners—”

  “If you want me back, I’m going to need some answers,” Megan said. “Call it a good-faith measure. To show me this is a real offer.”

  It was Aaron’s turn to go quiet.

  “Starting with Legend Partners,” Megan said. “They’re one of your clients, right?”

  Aaron did not reply.

  “I want to know why one of Hollywood’s biggest independent studios would be fighting over television scraps. With Chambers Broadcasting, of all people. And with a timeline that—”

  “I will bury you. Is that what you want?”

  Megan lifted her head. Sunlight and shadows glinted off the windows on either side of the front door. A breeze caused the tree limbs to shiver such that they scripted a dark message over the glass. There and gone.

  “Take my offer or don’t. That’s your call. But if I even think you’re going after Legend, I will ruin you.”

  This was the boss as she knew him. Aaron Seibel was a brawler by nature. He thrived on conflict. He lived for the chance to take down an opponent. This was why the associates assigned to him lived in a state of perpetual fear. Knowing he could turn on them at any time.

  “You do not want me as an enemy. I will—”

  “Thank you for calling,” Megan said, and cut the connection.

  When she did not move, her mother returned to the doorway and asked, “Everything all right?”

  “Thinking.”

  Her mother walked over. “Give me your mug. I’ve always found coffee helps the brain accelerate.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” When her mother retreated, Megan phoned Rand Bethany at CBC. They had been talking a couple of times each day. Rand had visited the site twice and mostly remained a silent presence throughout. In return, Megan did her best to keep Rand in the loop. “Is our meeting with the ad execs still on?”

  “Eleven o’clock, two days from now. Head of marketing is going to try to be there as well.”

  “Could you check on something? I need to know if Legend Partners is still trying to muscle in on the Valentine’s Day project.”

  “So . . . you’re asking a favor.”

  Megan smiled. She liked dealing with a woman who laid it out in black and white. “A big one. And there might be blowback if somebody learns you’re asking.”

  Her mother returned down the hallway with a fresh mug. But as she handed it over, something outside their front door caught her eye. Sarah straightened and crossed the foyer, still holding the mug. “Danny’s here.”

  Rand said, “In that case, I need some specific reason why I’m nosing around.”

  “I don’t have one.” Megan stood and stepped up next to her mother. Danny stood where the front walk met their driveway. Staring at the house. Not moving. “Find out what you can. And be careful.”

  When Megan pocketed her phone, Sarah asked, “Why won’t Danny come in the house?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Did you two have a fight?”

  Megan didn’t bother responding. She opened the door and started down the walk.

  Then it hit her.

  This was another element from her courtroom days, when she detected vital bits of information long before there was any logical reason or concrete evidence. Megan knew she was a good trial attorney, and she also knew this sixth sense was part of the reason why. Once, when she was waiting to take evidence from a police detective, the woman had referred to it as a spider sense. Megan’s spider sense was working overtime as she walked down the front path. She could see the shadows in Danny’s gaze, identical to the ones he had revealed in the San Luis Obispo conference room and again outside the Soho Club.

  By the time she halted in front of him, Megan knew exactly what she had to do. The message was clear in his expression.

  If she let Danny speak, it was over.

  Megan said, “I have something to say, and I want you to stay silent until I’m done.”

  She found a distinct assurance in how calm she sounded. Somehow her racing pulse and electric tension were utterly masked. She had to remain detached here. That was her role. To be the person who remained untouched by the storm Danny had brought with him. She knew she was being manipulative, and she didn’t care. She would do anything to hold on to a shred of hope. She already cared for him that much.

  “There can never be anything romantic between us, Danny.”

  The shock of hearing Megan say what he had clearly come to tell her shoved him back a step.

  Megan did not give him time to recover. She tracked him move for move. “You show up here after another episode of whatever it is that’s rocked your world. I don’t know what happened, and I won’t want to know.”

  “Megan—”

  “Be quiet, Danny. I’ll tell you when it’s your turn to talk. Right now your job is to pay attention.” She moved in closer. “I’m falling for you, Danny Byrd. Hard. But I can’t be in a relationship with a child.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Yes you are, and I told you, be quiet and listen. You’ve said it yourself, how you battle against problems you’ve carried since childhood. And that’s what brought you over here today. It’s not me. It’s your past. That makes three of us in this relationship, and that’s one too many. Do you understand what I’m saying? If you want to be involved with me, you need to be a man.” Megan jabbed a finger back at the house. “Do you think my parents would call their love perfect? My mom lives with the uncertainty that there might not be many more tomorrows . . .”

 
The emotions almost caught her then. Megan had to turn away, clench herself up tight, and gasp for control. When she was certain she could maintain an exterior calm, she turned back. And in that instant, she knew she had done right. The shadows were gone, at least for the moment. And Danny’s raw pain was revealed.

  “I know you’re hurting. I know you carry scars. And I want to help you. But to do that, you need to let me in. Not just when things are going your way. In the hard moments too. When it’s rough, and you’re scared, and the world is against you. I can’t make you do that, Danny. And I can’t shout against all the noise in your head.”

  He whispered, “It’s so hard.”

  “You want hard, you march inside my home and see my dad and my mom struggling against reality. That’s hard. This is just part of growing up. And that’s what you’ve got to do, Danny. I’m here for you, but only if I know, I know, that you’re there for me. You have got to move beyond these barriers and commit.”

  Megan knew it was time to stop. It was like a courtroom drama. Leave the jury wanting more. She stepped back. “I’ll see you through this project, and then we’re done. Unless you decide to change, Danny. For good. And for us.”

  40

  DANNY DROVE STRAIGHT back from Megan’s home to Thrashers Ridge. He entered the main room as Greg was finishing up with the first scene’s preliminary work. Cameramen, sound, lighting. Evelyn and Robin and one of the grips were serving as stand-ins. Annie waved to him from the doors leading to the kitchen and started over. Everything normal, save for the fact that Megan had completely obliterated his internal world.

  Danny felt as though his brain had been frozen in neutral by what she had just said. He had struggled with himself outside her front door. He had mentally repeated the words and the reasons why they needed to hold to a professional relationship and nothing more. And then she had marched out and blasted him where he stood by giving him exactly what he had come looking to say. Leaving him so numb even his thoughts had gone silent.

  Annie said, “Emma is freaking out.”

  Danny opened and shut his mouth twice. No sound emerged.

  “You know what’s about to happen. We’re shooting the first highly charged scene today. Emma is terrified.”

  Danny reached for the mug Annie held. He took a swallow and grimaced. He forgot Annie used coffee as merely a vehicle for sugar. But at least the shock reconnected him with his voice. “Greg is director. He’s in control.”

  “Come on, Danny. Get real.” Annie glanced behind her, making sure they weren’t being overheard. “Greg can’t handle her. You know that as well as I do. He needs your help.”

  Danny nodded slowly. Not so much at Annie’s words as at the realization that he should have already seen this for himself. That was what he was best at. Handling problems before they surfaced.

  His mind circled back to Megan’s confrontation, and the simple fact that she was the one who had just handled things.

  While he was coming to terms with the new reality, Annie steered him around. “Now go work your magic and let’s save this thing.”

  Danny slowly crossed the main room, disconnected from everything, including himself. Megan’s absence formed a vacuum at the core of his being, one so huge it threatened to swallow him whole. The loudest sound was that of her voice, the one that was no longer part of him. She had shut him out. Her face was there before him now, the disappointment and hurt and longing eating at his empty space like acid.

  The love.

  She had been forced to speak of a growing love for him. Because he would not, could not, do what she wanted and needed.

  Open up.

  Greg waved the cameraman away and tried to smile at Danny’s approach. But his smile was strained and his gaze was tight. “Missed you at breakfast. You go see Megan?”

  Hearing her name caused the empty space to burn. Danny shifted to one side in a futile effort to dodge the incoming blow. “Annie says Emma is having a hard time.”

  “She . . .” Greg sighed. “You’ve seen the dailies.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you know. And so does she.”

  “Where is her mother?”

  “Working from home.”

  “And Jennie?”

  “Upstairs. I told her to kick back, let us go through a couple of runs with Emma on her own. Maybe, you know . . .” Greg sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

  Strange how Danny could be standing there talking about one thing, yet his heart was resonating with an absolute certainty that the two things were actually one. The problem with Emma, the situation with Megan—they were the same. Which was impossible. But logic played no role here.

  Danny said, “Maybe I could help.”

  Greg only revealed his frantic state now. “Would you?”

  “Greg, you’re the director. I’m breaking all the boundaries even suggesting this.”

  “We’re in new territory for us both.”

  “So, if she’s willing . . .”

  “Do it. Whatever you can. Green light all the way.”

  “Where is she now?”

  Greg pointed at the stairs. “In her room with the door locked.”

  As Danny started up the stairs, the cosmetician met him with, “You going to see Emma?”

  “Yes.”

  “She told me to go away.” The woman was in her early sixties and bore a veteran’s unflappable air. Even so, she glanced up to the second floor and shook her head. “Poor kid. She said nothing I did to her face would help make things right, not where it mattered.”

  As Danny walked along the upstairs balcony, he glanced down to see all the eyes on set tracking his progress. He knocked on Emma’s door.

  “Go away.”

  “It’s me. Danny.”

  There was a longish pause, punctuated by an absolute stillness down below. Then the door opened a crack. Emma’s tear-streaked face peered out. “What?”

  “Can I come in?”

  She stood there for a time, then opened the door a fraction more and looked behind him. “Who else is out there?”

  “I’m alone.”

  She turned away. Danny followed her inside and watched her make a teenager’s boneless slide onto the carpet.

  Emma moaned. “Just shoot me.”

  He pulled over a chair and seated himself. The loudest sound he heard was the echo of Megan’s refrain, demanding that he let the world in.

  “Here’s what I think,” Danny said. “We’ve got two possible tracks we can follow. The first is, you stay at the same level you’re on right now. We reduce the number of lines you’re required to deliver. We play off you rather than keep you in the spotlight. The only time this would shift is when you’re playing music. Then you’re front and center. The result will be a solid piece. It won’t win awards, but it will be more than anyone could realistically expect, from you or from us. We will deliver as promised.”

  Emma did not move. She did not even appear to be breathing. But Danny was fairly certain she listened intently. He glanced over and saw that Annie had taken up a position in the doorway. Not intruding but letting them both know they were not in this alone.

  He went on, “The downside is clear. We came into this expecting to launch you into stardom. Having a lackluster early effort won’t stop you from making it later. But it won’t be the vehicle that we were hoping to create. The surprise that blows everyone’s socks off. Yes, that’s a disappointment. But as far as the outside world is concerned, we’ve still delivered. You need to understand that, Emma.”

  “I’m letting everyone down.”

  “No one feels that.”

  “Yes they do.”

  “Emma, look at me. Please.”

  Danny waited. Finally she rolled over, cushioned her head on one elbow, and looked his way.

  “Remember what I said earlier. Everybody on set is a pro.”

  “Everybody but me.”

  “They see how hard you’re trying. They like you, Emma. They wan
t you to succeed.”

  “I can’t make it work like I want.”

  “I know. Will you sit up, please?”

  She unwound and slid over to where she could rest her back on the bed. “I want this so much.”

  “That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

  “But I can’t . . .” She was halted by Danny’s upraised hand. “What?”

  “Acting is a terribly difficult process. Most people simply can’t make the transition. What you’re being required to do is leave your definition of reality behind. Right now you’re trying to do this from the outside in. That’s what my gut is telling me.”

  “Maybe you should take an antacid.”

  “Humor. That’s good. What you need to do is take a different approach. Accept that the Emma Sturgis reality does not work under the lights. Walk away from it entirely. Become this other person.”

  “But Greg keeps telling me—”

  “Forget Greg. From this point on, it’s just you and me.”

  “Really?”

  “If you want.”

  “Yes, Danny. I want. A lot.”

  “Okay. Good.” He rose from the chair. “Let’s get to work.”

  41

  DANNY LED EMMA DOWN the stairs and between the behind-camera people. He halted in front of the canvas chair with Emma’s name pinned to the back. As he passed Greg, he asked, “Can I borrow your chalk?”

  “What? Oh, sure.”

  “Thanks. Come on, Emma.” He waved to the cosmetician and said, “You need to start on her right now.” As the woman rushed for her kit, Danny said to Greg, “Go ask Jennie to come on down here.”

  A voice from behind the lights replied, “No need.”

  Danny turned back to Greg. “From now on, you shoot the practice take. You get one more. Max three, and only if Emma asks. Otherwise it’s two and done. All close-ups except hers are handled after she leaves the set.”

  “But . . . Okay.”

  Danny turned back to Emma. The young woman’s eyes could not have been any bigger. “Did you hear what I just said?”

  “Greg has me practice my lines six or seven times.”