by Deanna Chase
“I agree,” Shannon said. “He’s a no-nonsense guy. Tells us like it is, and when the other party is in the wrong, he’s a bulldog. But if he thinks things aren’t likely to go our way, he tells us that, too, and lets us make the decisions.”
“Okay.” Miranda glanced at Gideon. His eyes were hooded, and he had a surly expression on his face. She’d watched him pace back and forth when he’d been outside talking on the phone. He hadn’t said anything since he’d come back inside though, and she couldn’t help but wonder who he’d been talking to. With his connections, it could’ve been anyone. Surely if it had been about her movie, he’d have said something, right? “Do you know Tim?”
“Timothy Lufti,” Shannon supplied.
Gideon shook his head and said, “No. Never met him, but he does have a good reputation around town.”
“Okay. Let’s see what he says.” Miranda sat back against the couch cushions and draped an arm over her eyes. “I can’t believe this is turning out this way. When I sold the movie rights, I honestly never thought the project would get made. Who would’ve thought they’d butcher it so much?”
“I’m sorry, hon,” Shannon said. “It happens way too often when the source material is from a book. Sometimes I’m convinced the screenwriter didn’t even read the manuscript.”
Miranda groaned. “Not helping.”
Shannon patted her leg. “We’ll put Tim on it and go from there.” Her phone buzzed, and Shannon answered it immediately. She spoke with Tim for a few minutes, and when she ended the call, she turned to Miranda. “Here’s what we need to do. We need to send Tim your contract with Witching Hour and your contract with your former agent. He wants to go over both before he gives any advice.”
“All right.” Miranda stood. “I have both in my files at home. I’ll email you copies of them in about an hour.”
Shannon got to her feet and hugged Miranda. “I’ll do everything I can.”
“I know you will. Thank you.” She glanced around for Gideon and raised her eyebrows. “Are you coming with me?”
“Yes.” He strode over, took her hand in his, and then guided her out of the house. It didn’t take long for them to walk to Miranda’s house. She was just about to invite him in, when he said, “I’ve got to go take care of something. Can we take a raincheck on the Christmas party planning?”
“Sure. I guess so.”
“Thanks,” Gideon ran a hand through his hair. “Call me when you hear back from the lawyer?”
“Um, okay.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s up with you? You’re acting weird.”
He let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Me? Weird?”
“Yeah. Totally weird. You haven’t said anything since we left Shannon’s house, and now you’re running off to do some mysterious errand. The Gideon I know would be sticking around to find out what the lawyer says.”
“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, his expression suddenly concerned instead of distracted.
“No.” She refrained from rolling her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself as a gust of breeze left her chilled. “I can handle this. I just thought… never mind what I thought. I can’t do this right now. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” She turned and started to enter her front door.
“Miranda,” he said softly and gently wrapped his hand around her wrist. “Wait.”
She paused but didn’t look back at him. Miranda knew what was really bothering her; she just hadn’t wanted to say anything about it. Now she couldn’t hold it in. “I know you called someone earlier. Was it about Witching for You?”
“Yes.”
She slowly turned around to face him. “And?”
“I didn’t find out anything useful yet,” he said. “I want to see if I can find out who’s in charge of this project over there and see if I can get someone on the phone to find out why they took such a sharp left turn.”
Miranda didn’t miss the fact that, instead of looking her in the eye, Gideon was staring over her shoulder into her cabin. Her spine tingled with unease, giving her the sinking feeling that he was holding something back from her. But what could she do other than wait him out? “Fine. But I don’t want you fighting this battle for me, Gideon. If there’s someone to talk to over there, let my lawyer handle it.”
His gaze shifted to hers and softened. “Are you sure? I do have some sway in the industry.”
“I’m positive.” Her story meant everything to her, but she’d be damned if she let the man who walked away from her all those years ago fight her battles. She could take care of herself. She just needed to know who she was fighting.
“Okay,” he said, pushing a lock of her dark hair from her eyes. His touch was light as a feather but also sent electric shocks all over her skin as he brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I won’t step in where I don’t belong.”
Her entire body shuddered slightly as she breathed, “Thank you.”
It was early evening when Miranda’s phone rang. The number indicated it was from Los Angeles, and she blew out a sigh of relief. She’d done nothing but pace her small cabin ever since she’d emailed her contracts to Shannon.
“Hello?” she said into the phone.
“Miranda Moon? It’s Timothy Lufti, the entertainment lawyer who works with Shannon Ansell.”
“Yes, I know who you are. Thank you for taking time today to talk with me. Did you get a chance to read through my contracts?”
“I did. First things first. Shannon was able to contact the studio and found out they sent a check to your agent seven weeks ago. That means, according to your agency contract, that your agent is in breach. I already have my assistant working on a demand letter for immediate payment. I will also forward a request from you to the studio that all future payments be split. The media company will pay you directly and send your agent her share, so you won’t have to deal with her again. Does that sound agreeable?”
“Yes. I didn’t know that could be done,” Miranda said, feeling a tiny bit of relief. At least she’d get paid. It was something. “What about my consultation rights? Nobody sent me the script, but Silas let me take a look at his copy. I’m supposed to give my input before this thing begins filming.”
Tim cleared his throat. “This is where it gets tricky.”
Miranda’s heart sank. “Okay. Just lay it on me.”
“Consultation rights in this context only mean that you must be given the opportunity to have input on the script. It does not mean your notes have to be used. So, while we can and will push the issue, the chances of them making changes, or at least any significant changes, are minimal. And your legal recourse is dubious.”
“Why is it dubious?” Miranda asked, closing her eyes and trying not to scream. She shouldn’t have been surprised. In fact, while he was explaining that the writer didn’t have to use her notes, a conversation with her old agent while they’d been discussing the terms of her contract came rushing back. Olivia had warned her that she likely wouldn’t have much say in the final outcome of the movie despite her consultation rights clause.
“If you were to sue them, it would cost a lot. And as long as they let you turn in your notes, it’s probable that you’d lose the suit,” he said.
Miranda sank into her couch, her chest aching with defeat. “So, I can’t do anything at all?”
“I didn’t say that. We can press them to let you discuss the changes with them. You never know how that will shake out.”
“All right. I’ll work on my notes so I’m ready.” Her tone was defeated even to her own ears.
“I’ll have my assistant keep you and Shannon updated with our progress.”
“Thanks, Tim.”
“You’re welcome. And Miranda?” he added.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else.”
That surprised her. She didn’t know why. He was a lawyer and was likely paid by the minute. But still, after being frozen out by Olivia, having someone who was wi
lling to work for her was refreshing. “I will. Thank you so much. I appreciate your help and your candor.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
After Tim ended the call, Miranda dropped her phone onto a side table and leaned forward, resting her aching head in her hands. She wasn’t sure when the headache had started, but it was bad enough that she knew the only thing left to do was to head to bed and sleep it off.
Chapter Twelve
Gideon shoved his hands in his pockets and quickened his pace. After exhausting his contacts with Witching Hour Productions and coming up completely empty, he’d put his phone into his pocket and headed out to walk off some tension.
Something was seriously off. He’d spent the previous afternoon and most of the morning trying to get someone, anyone, from Witching Hour to talk to him about the production of Witching for You. Everyone he’d called was either already out of town for the holidays or was tight-lipped. No one was willing to give him the details of which executive was producing the project. They hadn’t even been willing to tell him who they’d tapped to direct the film. The one piece of information he’d gotten was about the screenwriter. And the guy, Troy Bix, was a total newbie who’d worked as an assistant writer on one of Ace Media’s movies last year.
He’d been itching to call Troy, but out of respect for Miranda, he refrained. To say he was frustrated was an understatement. Gideon Alexander was a man who got things done. He had connections and friends in the industry. The fact that he was being iced out told him one thing; someone was making sure Gideon stayed in the dark. And he was pretty certain he knew exactly who’d given that order.
Throm Alexander had some serious explaining to do.
Except Gideon knew he wouldn’t get answers over the phone. He was going to have to confront his father in person. Not wanting to waste time, he pulled his phone out and dialed his father’s office. When his assistant answered, Gideon said, “Kim? I need to know my father’s schedule.”
“For when?” Kim asked.
“Today and tomorrow. I’m going to fly in for a meeting with him.”
“Um… hold on.” There was a click and then silence. Gideon stared at the cobbled sidewalk as he continued to walk along the Main Street shops. “Gideon?” Kim asked. “Are you still there?”
“Yep.”
“I’m sorry, but it looks like your father has already left for the holidays. He won’t be available until after the new year. Do you want me to put something on the books?”
“He already left?” Gideon asked, astounded. That would mean his father was going to be out of the office for over three weeks. That was unheard of.
“Yes. He came in this morning, passed out the Christmas bonuses, and then gathered some paperwork and left. He said he’s taking his wife somewhere warm and doesn’t want to be bothered unless there is a literal fire burning the office down.”
“Son of a… Do you know where they are going? He told me Costa Rica, but do you know what resort they are staying at?” The chances were more than good that Kim had made their reservations.
“Nope. He wouldn’t even tell me that much. He said he’d handle the details himself.”
Gideon froze. “You’re kidding.”
She sighed. “I’m not. Your best bet is to call him yourself if it’s important. If I do it, I’m likely to get fired. He wasn’t joking around.”
Kim had worked for Gideon’s father long enough to know not to call his bluff. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to bother him when he’d told her under no uncertain terms that he didn’t want to hear about anything unless it was a true emergency. “I’ll call him. Thanks, Kim, and happy holidays.”
“Thanks,” she said, sounding relieved. “And happy holidays to you, too.”
After he ended the call with Kim, he called the one person he knew in Los Angeles who’d be willing to dig up information, just as long as Gideon was willing to write a few checks.
“Gid!” the jovial man yelled into Gideon’s ear when he answered the call. “Long time, no talk. What do you need?”
“For you to be discreet,” Gideon said.
“When am I not discreet?” Baker asked, sounding offended.
Gideon scoffed at the PI who’d become the go-to investigator for anything having to do with Hollywood. “That time you walked into Heather Vee’s dressing room and told her you were hired to track down her past lovers.”
Baker let out a bark of laughter. “That’s because my client was a jackass and had no business looking into Heather’s past. And the only reason I didn’t quit that job was because the dude threatened me. You know that.”
“Right. I forgot about that.” Gideon blew out a breath. “Listen, I need you to find out the major players on a film that’s being produced by Witching Hour Productions.”
“Is there a reason why you can’t just call them up and ask?”
It was a fair question. For just about any other project, he likely could make one phone call and have all the details he ever needed. “I tried that. I’m being stonewalled.”
“That’s unusual. Who’d you piss off?” Baker asked with a chuckle.
“No one that I know of, but here’s the kicker…” He clutched the phone tighter before adding, “My father appears to be self-financing it.”
“Throm Alexander is financing a film produced by Witching Hour?” he asked, confused. “Why would he do that?”
“Yes, Throm is putting up the money. As for why he’d do such a thing, that’s why I’m hiring you.”
“What the hell is it? A porn flick?” he asked with a laugh.
Gideon couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. Baker was one of those guys with no filter. He said whatever was on his mind, no matter how inappropriate. “Nope. It’s a romantic comedy. Or at least it was until the screenwriter got ahold of it. Now it looks more like a tragedy.”
The investigator’s tone lost all traces of humor as confusion creeped in. “That does not sound like a Throm Alexander film.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Gideon went on to explain Miranda, her book, and how it was about his and Miranda’s relationship while they were in college so that the investigator had the full picture.
“I take it your father didn’t approve of Miranda?” Baker asked.
“It’s not that he didn’t approve of her. He just didn’t approve of the life I was leading when I was with her. Long story short, he wanted me to work for Ace Media, and I wanted to open an art gallery. Obviously, Throm got what he wanted.”
“Maybe not everything or he wouldn’t have his fingers in Miranda’s movie.”
“I can’t imagine what that might be,” Gideon said honestly. He knew his father had tried to block Miranda’s book from being published, but he’d always assumed that was just a bargaining chip to get Gideon to toe the line.
“That’s what you’re hiring me for, to figure out what questions to ask and then fill in the blanks. Do you have a timeframe on this?”
“As soon as possible. Before the holidays would be best. They’re supposed to start filming right after the new year.”
“Okay, but there’s going to be a rush fee,” Baker said.
Of course there was. “Fine. Bill me directly. Don’t send it to the office.”
“You got it, boss.”
The call ended, and Gideon had an intense desire to toss the phone into the nearby river. He’d spent far too much time on the damned thing in the past twenty-four hours, and he had little to show for it. But instead, he tucked it into his pocket and headed for Incantation Café. He arrived just before closing and ended up being Hanna’s last customer of the day.
Twenty minutes later, with two lattes and two Danishes, Gideon got into his SUV and headed for a small cabin on the edge of the woods.
It wasn’t long before Gideon was knocking on Miranda’s door.
The door swung open and there she was, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt with her hair piled up on the top of her head and a pencil t
ucked behind one ear. “Gideon!” she said and glanced down at herself, grimacing. “You could’ve given me some warning so I could get cleaned up.”
He took a moment to scan the length of her body. She was all comfort and curves. “There was no need for that. You look just as gorgeous as ever.”
Miranda rolled her eyes, but then she focused on the coffee tray in his hand. “Is one of those for me?”
“Yep. Lattes and Danishes. I wouldn’t show up empty-handed.”
Her grimace turned to a smile, and she held the door open wider for him. “Then by all means, get in here. You have no idea how much I was craving a really good latte.”
Gideon followed her inside and set the coffee and Danishes on the bar in her kitchen. “I found out who the screenwriter is.”
She spun around to face him. “You did? How?”
“Through the grapevine.” He handed her a business card with Troy Bix’s name on the back. “I didn’t call him, as per your request. This is just for you or your lawyer if you need to get in touch with him.”
Miranda’s hand trembled as she took the card.
Gideon took a closer look at her. “Are you all right?”
She shook her head. “I thought I was, but then I heard the name of the person who butchered our story and… I dunno. I’m back to hating everyone, especially my former agent.” She spun around in the kitchen and opened one of her cabinets. After moving a few things around, she pulled out a mortar and pestle. She started searching through another cabinet, inspecting her supply of herbs and roots.
“What are you looking for?” Gideon asked.
“My stash of Spanish moss.”
His eyebrows shot up. Spanish moss was used mostly in hexes and curses. “Why?”
Miranda sucked in a sharp breath then closed the cabinet without extracting any of her jars. When she turned around, her face was bright red, and she stared at her stocking feet as she said, “I was planning on hexing Olivia.”
“Cast a bad luck spell?” He let out a small chuckle. “I thought you were a pacifist earth witch. When’s the last time you cast a hex on someone, Miranda?”