Idolized (Hollywood Stardust Book 3) (26 page)

Don’t move.

(He spins his chair back to his computer and furiously types, glancing at her a couple of times.)

All right.  Come here.

(He holds his arm out.)

ROXY exhales and goes to STEVEN taking sitting on his lap.

ROXY

Did I help?

STEVEN

You always help.  We’re the dynamic duo of film.

CAMERA PANS over the walls. Showing Roxy as the star in the films that Steven directs.

ROXY

But this is the first time you did the screenwriting.

STEVEN

And I have my muse on my lap.

ROXY

Maybe then you should make your muse official.

STEVEN

Maybe that would break the magic.

(He smiles and kisses the tip of her nose)

ROXY leans back and looks into his eyes.

STEVEN

It’s coming love, I want the timing to be right, and now we have to work on this picture.

ROXY

It always seems like something gets in the way.

STEVEN

That’s called life.

(He pulls her in for a kiss.)

ROXY hugs him, sighs, and looks at her empty ring finger.

Chapter Twelve

PUBLIC LOCATION, PRIVATE LOCATION, indoors, outdoors. Things Ryder always considered anytime he stepped anywhere near the public. Even meeting at a private location could hold many perils for him, especially if it was with a woman who was not the one he was seeing at the time, namely Cora. All he needed was for this to show up on a tabloid. After all, his girl said she had all sorts of ways to find things out. He wondered what she truly knew. In the five days since their movie night, figured out she was absolutely fastidious on anything she deemed worthy of her time. Now she had dissected the entire movie plot point by plot point. Basically, his woman knew a lot.

For this particular interlude, a semi-public kind of private place would be best. If someone snapped a photograph, he could easily explain it away with something that was even foreign to him…the truth.

Supplies in hand, Ryder made his way into the commissary at the studio. At this time of day, the place stood pretty empty, except for the errant grip or production assistant. Showing up early was a calculated move, one designed so he could choose the perfect setting. No one could ever be trusted, and he took a seat in the far corner where the only seat his guest could take was across from him at the other side of the table.

After setting up the table with the requisite pads of paper, pens and as a bonus two bottles of juice, he leaned back and glanced at his phone. Along with a few messages from his agent and Logan, he had to smile at the fact none was from Glen and one was from Cora. She still hadn’t really gotten a handle on the whole sexy text thing, but hey, the woman was trying.

Lunch?

All right well, it wasn’t much in the great scheme of things, but it was a huge step in the world of Cora. First, she initiated the text. Second, she actually used a question mark, making it more of an invitation rather than a command. Since the night she decided William would be the man for her, he detected a crack in her armor, and a welcome one at that.

He stretched his fingers and decided to show her how this was done.

Only if you are the main dish.
At his thought, he licked his lips.

I’m at the office.

Leave it to Cora to state the obvious.

Then get the stuff off your desk, it will make a perfect table.

See you at noon, maybe you can bring your script with you.

Yes, the script. His script. The one she asked for repeatedly. It wasn’t an unusual request. What if she read it and didn’t like it? What would happen then? If she didn’t believe in the movie, would she still back him? Somehow, he had to get back the movie money Glen gave him and actually make a movie.
When the script is ready for Cora consumption you will see it.
All he knew was it had to be perfect and he looked up to see his script whisperer barreling toward him.
Noon it is, be ready with my favorite dish.
He hit send and stood, welcoming his guest of the hour.

“Ryder.” Papers everywhere, hair everywhere, clothing everywhere, somehow Madeline managed to thrust her hand out from among all the mess.

After shaking her hand, he helped her plop down in the seat, then catching an errant paper and moving her hair out of his mouth before taking his own chair. “Thank you for coming.”

A snort and a giggle later, Madeline settled into her seat. “I read your script.”

His stomach twisted into a knot. “And?”

Rather than answer, she opened the document, thumbed through the pages and pulled out what appeared to be some typewritten notes and ran her fingers over them.

“Madeline?” At the moment, she should be squealing with delight, saying how much she adored it, could barely tear herself away, and though it wasn’t on film yet, she could totally picture the whole thing replaying in her mind.

“I just want to review my notes.” With no emotion, not even a snort, she thumbed through her pages.

Anytime someone had to refer to their notes meant they couldn’t remember. What the hell, did he have an unmemorable treatment? That was impossible. He strummed his fingers on the table.

“All right.” She nodded.

Ryder held his breath.

“The story is good.” She lifted the pages to her face.

“Good?” The word thumped against his chest like the tomatoes they would be throwing at him. In Hollywood, good would get you absolutely nothing, it was almost better to be a flop.

“Yes, good.” At last, she put the papers down. In an instant, the disaster zone that was Hollywood Stardom’s screenwriter disappeared, as if suddenly the papers arranged themselves, and Madeline became a little less disheveled. “You need to ramp up Marko’s character arc, give him some more backstory, up his stakes, you can pepper with some added dialogue.”

“What about a flashback?” He leaned over the table to see what Madeline wrote about his main character.

“No, that may work for other movies, but because this takes place over so many scenes and genres and there are a lot of fantasy elements, I think a flashback would only serve to confuse the audience.” She turned the page.

After letting her words sink in, he sat back. Was his story confusing? No, the viewer merely had to pay attention. His movie had plot.

“Now onto the plot.” Madeline continued.

At least the woman recognized there was a plot.

“I feel there’s a hole in the love story. You never get the ‘I love you moment.’ I really feel you would benefit from adding one more scene of one more genre and letting us have some of that type of fantasy.” She turned the page.

“You want me to add a scene?” Just to prevent him from jumping up and screaming, he clutched the edge of the table. Yes, he was prepared for editing, a little I dotting and T crossing, but adding a scene?

“This is your script, you can do what you want, but if this was my script or a script I was fixing, I’d add a scene right here.” She pushed the script to the middle of the table and opened it up to a page about three quarters of the way in.

“I already have a romance genre sequence.” No way could he add a scene. Did she understand what that entailed? The story was finished.

“I think in this case, a musical scene would illustrate the romance perfectly.” Instead of looking at him, she read her notes in his script.

“I don’t sing and I don’t dance.” He growled at her. Did he need to add a scene?