by Davis Bunn
Every now and then, Emma smiled at Danny. Seeking the reassurance he had been offering on a fairly constant basis. What he had not told anyone was how brutally raw these days had become. The more Emma opened up and trusted him, the more affection he saw in her gaze, the more he missed Megan.
Her absence was a wound that sometimes made it hard to breathe. He no longer tried to tell himself that she had only done what he had intended, that he should be grateful, that it was for the best. His burdens were too heavy. He could not be bothered to carry lies as well.
The idea hit him where the path started up the slope. He motioned Emma on ahead, waited for the others to pass by, then scrolled down his contacts and dialed the number. He did not hesitate because he didn’t want to give himself time to think up all the reasons why this was a terrible idea.
When Megan’s mother answered the phone, Danny started with an apology. “I’m really sorry for bothering you—”
“Oh, don’t be silly. I can’t count the number of times I’ve lifted the phone and started to call you myself.”
Danny found the swirl of confusion already begin to settle. “Really?”
“Yes, Danny. Do I sound like I’d make something like that up?”
“No, it’s just, Megan and I . . .”
“Oh, I know all that. And the reason I wanted to call you was to say you’re still welcome here.” A voice rasped from the background. Sarah paused long enough to say, “Danny is the one who phoned me, Richard. I’m not meddling. I’m being a friend.”
When the voice didn’t respond, at least so Danny could hear, Sarah went on, “Danny, can you come for dinner? Megan’s just called from LA. She’s been held up, some unexpected meeting. She’ll probably stay the night down there.”
“We’re shooting a sunset scene. I could maybe stop by after.”
“Come whenever you like. I’ll have a plate ready.”
When they arrived at the sea captain’s grave, Danny held back, wanting to gauge Emma’s reaction. He had been up here four times early on, discussing how the place could be used in the story and setting up the basic structure. The grave was to play a crucial role, and what Emma did today was vital for the story’s emotional tapestry.
Greg quietly discussed how he wanted to block the first scene they would shoot with Rick. For many young directors, blocking scenes was where they failed. It remained for many a terrifying component of their job, especially if they had difficulty putting their vision into language the actors could follow. Greg was different. He began the blocking process while he read the script for the first time. He entered into every new setting with the blocking process foremost in his mind. The result was that he blocked scenes faster than any director Danny had ever met. In television and on low-budget films, such speed was essential for success.
To begin the blocking process, the director needed to determine where the actors would be stationed. This was known as setting their marks. Once this was established, the cameras were positioned, then the lights. Only then could the actors be brought in and their moves worked out in relation to the cameras. This required a choreography as tightly arranged as a ballet. Actors, extras, equipment, lights, cameras—all had to move in perfect harmony.
Danny stood beside Emma, looking at the grave and ignoring the activity behind them. He was close enough to feel her tension and her heat. He waited for her to speak, giving her time.
Finally she said, “I’ve been up here so many times. Ten, maybe. And I never can toss the stone.”
The captain’s grave occupied the ridgeline’s highest point, a rocky knob rising above the surrounding woodlands. The tomb’s ceremonial fence was coated in candle wax. In some places the wax was half a foot thick. Hundreds and hundreds of candles, burned through countless nights, had added to the mystery of the grave itself. The entire area, tomb and earth, was blanketed by pebbles. Thousands of rocks, so many they formed a second burial mound.
To the west, beyond the grave site, the hills were burnished by the late afternoon sun. The ridge formed a meandering line that snaked off to their left. Birds flittered among the trees, quick flashes of jewel-like brilliance, then gone.
Emma took her cue from Danny and ignored the bustling activity. She pointed to a ranch house that probably dated from the same era as the hotel. “That’s where the captain’s love made her home. With the other man. Rinaldo. The one she married.”
When Danny didn’t respond, she led him around to where he could read the headstone. There was neither name nor date. The stone marker was the only component of the grave not touched by candle wax. The seaman’s epitaph was five lines long:
Cast aside all regrets
So that ye might live,
Toss away the bitterness that binds,
Throw aside all anger ere the sun descends,
Lest you join me here before your time.
Standing there beside Emma drew the words into razor-sharp focus. Danny felt they might as well have been written just for him. Carved into granite. Waiting a century for him to arrive.
Emma stepped away and returned bearing two stones. She placed one in Danny’s hand. Then she tossed the other onto the grave. It landed with a soft click.
Danny looked down at her. He did not need to glance over to know Greg and Rick and Annie were watching them now. “That’s exactly the sentiment we’re after today. There will be two visits. We’re going to shoot both today if the light holds. The first time, you and your mother will stand apart. Neither of you can let go of the rocks you hold. And the inability is a wedge that burns between you. The two of you have arrived up here, separated and apart. And then you leave apart. The tension between you needs to be evident without you saying a word.”
Emma nodded. “The second time, we hold hands and toss the stones together. I like that.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, Danny. I like it a lot.”
He pretended not to notice her unshed tears. “What say we go make some magic.”
As Greg phoned for Jennie, Danny slipped the stone into his pocket.
44
HALF AN HOUR AFTER Megan and Rand finished an early dinner, Lane’s assistant called and told them to meet her in Harvey Chambers’s office. They walked back down Beverly, crossed Wilshire, and reentered the CBC executive office building. From the instant they passed through the doors, everything seemed different. The glances cast their way, the immediate response from the guard/receptionist, the way all the CBC executives tracked their every step. Megan felt as though the air held a faint electric charge. Rand must have felt it as well, for when the elevators closed she released a tight hiss, like a kettle giving off steam.
Harvey Chambers ran his empire from a penthouse suite that occupied more than half the building’s top floor. A vast outer office contained secretaries, senior staffers, and a waiting area that was clearly intended to host informal gatherings. The room’s hexagonal shape was rimmed by interior glass, so Megan could observe a clutch of visiting producers pitch a story in one conference room while Harvey and two senior executives argued with a trio of architects standing before a series of electronic images of a vast campus.
Lane was on the phone when they entered. She waved them to chairs and continued her conversation.
Rand looked around and whispered, “I’ve never been here before.”
Megan watched Rand do a little-girl scope of the elegant decor and the scurrying assistants and the busy world up above the clouds. It touched her heart. “You deserve better than you’ve gotten. So far.”
The brittle exterior that had been baked into place fell away, and Rand looked at her. Really looked. “Thanks, Megan. That means a lot.” Then a shadow passed over her features. “I better go check in. You know. With the guy running my life.”
“Larry,” Megan said.
“It’s either that or pack my bags as soon as I descend back to earth.” She tasted a smile. “If I’m lucky, he’s off making somebody else’s life miserable.”
She found herself thinking back to her first days in Hollywood, when she assumed doors to this level were all about to open. The day she had signed her contract with K&K, she had celebrated by purchasing a go bag. Of course, there had been the party and the fine dinner and the smiling faces of friends. Naturally there had been a man, handsome and claiming to care for her.
Megan stood there and watched another production team rush past, ready to pitch the idea that CBC had been waiting desperately to receive. She wished she could remember the handsome man’s name. But the only thing that came to mind was the go bag.
Italian leather. Nine hundred and seventeen dollars. For an overnight suitcase. Megan had returned from her party and spent hours selecting items that went into her bag. Each article of clothing was intended to be perfect for the moment the call came through. The one that ordered her to drop everything and fly off immediately and seal the multimillion-dollar deal. The bag would rest in the credenza in her corner office. The room with the view over all of Hollywood. Her city. Her industry. Her time. It was coming. The go bag was an investment in the future that was hers to claim.
As she stood in Harvey Chambers’s executive suite, Megan suspected she had already realized in those first heady days that her LA life would require an escape option. To pick up and leave her job, her life, and her relationships at a moment’s notice. That mind-set would go a long way to explaining why her LA life had been held to such a superficial level.
Megan saw Rand step out of the elevator and resume her place at the corner sofa set. The young woman carried a whiff of scorched earth and clearly wanted a private moment to recover. Megan turned back to watching the electric rush of power that surrounded her. So many people trying desperately to dance to Hollywood’s music. It was all they knew, the only thing they wanted. So they danced even when no one cared.
She could almost see Danny standing behind the camera, willing all the components to come together and make a film for CBC. He totally ignored the fact that some of their senior executives willed him to fail. Danny used what he had, playing from the hand he was dealt, doing the best he possibly could. If she were forced to name one trait that defined Danny Byrd, it would be his determined ability to make the best of what little he’d been given.
If only he could open up and let her help him.
Megan’s yearning to join her life to his burned like a branding iron upon her heart.
Which was why the receptionist appeared rimmed by liquid crystal when she stepped in front of Lane and said, “Harvey will see you now.”
Harvey Chambers was chubby and on the small side, a couple of inches shorter than Megan’s five nine. He looked like a child’s drawing of an ideal grandfather, with his gentle smile and feather-white hair and plumpish red cheeks. All except for the eyes. They shone with a piercing intelligence and all the warmth of two grey blades. His voice was smooth, cultured, and accustomed to holding power. “Lane, always a pleasure.”
He ushered them to a corner suite of suede and silver. A secretary served coffee and tea in bone china so thin Megan could see her trembling fingers through the porcelain. Harvey and Lane exchanged a few pleasantries, then Lane said, “Megan, why don’t you share with Harvey what you told me.”
Harvey remained silent and unblinking through her recap. He kept his steel-grey gaze on Megan as he said, “You’re making a big ask here, Lane.”
“That was why I requested this meeting,” she replied calmly. “So we could discuss precisely what is going on.”
“To assist with this requires me to declare my position,” Harvey said. “The issue involved is a crucial one. Up to now I’ve avoided coming down on one side or another.”
“The clock is ticking,” Lane said. “And some very good people’s futures are in the balance.”
“It’s never been just about the Valentine’s Day project.”
“We have suspected that from day one.”
“Not to mention how I’ll be required to dismiss claims made repeatedly by one of my senior executives.”
“Lawrence Abbott is a bad smell and you know it.”
“Put that aside for a moment. You also want me to accept that a growing number of accusations against Daniel Byrd, as both a producer and a human being, are bogus.”
“They are,” Megan said. “They’re utterly without merit.”
He turned from Lane to her. “I’m listening.”
Megan started with the meeting where she met Zhang. She then took Chambers through a number of her subsequent experiences. The day-by-day summary was far more painful than she could ever have anticipated. By the time she made her last point, about the film crew’s universal willingness to work with Danny again, Megan thought she sounded partly strangled.
To his credit, Harvey remained silently intent throughout. When she went quiet, Rand handed her a refilled cup of tea.
Harvey rose and walked to the window overlooking Wilshire. He said to the glass, “My senior team is split right down the middle. Gun to my head, I’d say Abbott’s allies hold a slight majority.”
Lane said, “They want CBC to buy its way into the big league.”
He glanced over. “What have you heard?”
“Nothing, Harvey. Not a peep. But the signs are there for anyone to read. They are impatient for your ratings to climb. They think their only chance to swiftly raise audience viewing is to spend on talent. Buy the big names. Pay what they ask, put it down as a loss leader. Aim for a return to profit on future projects.”
Harvey pondered the scene beyond his window. “They may be right.”
“They may also have their own personal careers in mind. They could well be saying this for themselves and not CBC,” Lane countered. “They need to show a dramatic climb in the ratings before they can jump to one of the bigger networks.”
He nodded. “There is that.”
“I’ve been in this business for a long time, Harvey. I’ve seen too many other big spenders come and go. You know the old adage. The most certain way to have ten million dollars is to invest a hundred million in Hollywood.”
Harvey walked back and sighed his way into his seat. “Now you know why I’m not sleeping well.”
Lane caught Megan’s eye and gave a fractional nod. Megan took a breath and said, “You have an opportunity to build a strong partnership with Danny and his team. They will know you’ve backed them because I’ll tell them. Loyalty breeds loyalty, Mr. Chambers.”
Harvey studied her. “You make an interesting point, Ms. Pierce.”
“It’s Megan, and here’s another. Let’s say for the sake of argument that all the accusations against Danny Byrd have originated from the group that wants you to write the big checks.”
Harvey remained silent and still as a poker star.
“The question you need to ask is why. What makes Danny so important that they would go after him like this? There can only be one answer. They see Danny as a genuine threat. It’s not just that he has every chance of succeeding in delivering a solid product on time and under budget. It’s more than this. Far more.”
“I’m listening.”
It was Megan’s turn to rise and stalk the silk carpet. “Given half a chance, Danny would sign on for the long haul. Produce good films for budgets that permit the buyer to make a solid return. Build a loyal base and elevate the entire channel as a result. And if Danny is successful, it means CBC maintains an in-house lock on theme. Your company can develop a set of core concepts based on audience response. Not what some big-name producer or director tells y
ou they’re going to do. What you want. What your audience expects you to deliver.”
He smiled at Lane. “My, my.”
“The pretty head holds a far prettier mind,” Lane said.
“Megan, are you interested in a job?”
“Thanks, but I’m happy where I am.”
“Well, be sure to look me up if you change your mind.” He rose and offered her his hand. “You’ll have my answer tomorrow.”
45
IT WAS AFTER NINE when Danny parked in front of Sarah and Richard’s home, and the end of a very long day. He had not enjoyed a decent night’s sleep in over a week. His back and neck throbbed. None of it mattered. The two scenes they had just completed were nothing short of solid. The entire crew knew it. The grips were still hauling gear off the ridge after an eighteen-hour day. Danny could almost hear their distant laughter as he rose from the car.
Sarah met him at the door with a swift embrace and led him to the rear porch. Richard shifted over and settled at the table while Sarah served Danny. She explained how Richard needed everything steamed or boiled or pressure-cooked to a near-mash consistency. Anything firmer risked him choking. Tonight it was a beef brisket so tender it flaked off Danny’s fork. He ate three portions.
“This is great.”
Sarah smiled as he added another spoonful of her homemade horseradish sauce. “Megan says I should use that stuff to peel varnish off the porch floor.”
“She’s a great lawyer,” Danny said, trying to hide the impact of hearing her name. “She can be excused for having no taste in food.”
Finally he had no choice but to lean back, set down his utensils, and admit defeat. “Wow.”
Sarah refilled his glass, set his plate on the sideboard, and said, “You’re welcome.”
“Would you mind if I talked work?”