The Director Gets a Grip Read online

  Orlando said, “If you want our support, dear sister, it is only reasonable to consider our conditions.”

  She pursed her lips, wondering what he had up his tailored sleeve. Finally, she asked, “What are your conditions?”

  He appeared thoughtful for a moment. “I think it might be wise to use a higher percentage of humans on this film, as it’s not a monster film.”

  “That’s reasonable.”

  Leo smiled. “I want several specific people hired to work with you on this project.”

  “Such as?”

  “First, Orlando and I will act as executive producers.”

  “Accepted,” she said without hesitation. She’d have enough duties to juggle as director, anyway. She’d be responsible for overseeing the actual filming of the project and everything that went into that — casting, set decor, lighting, cameras, stunts, and special effects. She’d be glad to leave the analytical work like accounting, publicity, unit production, and transportation to her capable brothers.

  Leo set forth his next condition. “Second, Dahlia Wayne as costume designer.”

  She’d worked with Dahlia before. In fact, she was already considering her for this project, so it was easy enough to acquiesce. “All right.”

  “Third, Nate Gibbons for key hair and key makeup.”

  Bianca raised her brows. “Do you think we can get him? He’s hot now, especially after the Star Wars film.”

  Leo shrugged one shoulder. “If he says no, you can hire whomever you choose. But you have to give him a serious offer.”

  She nodded. “Agreed.”

  “And, fourth and last, Blake Gladwell as key grip.”

  Bianca shook her head. “I want Lance Uddy as key grip. He’s interested, though he doesn’t know the details.”

  “Mr. Gladwell comes highly recommended. You’ll be lucky to get him, but I do expect you to call and make him an offer.” Leo smiled again. “That is, if you want my support.”

  Her desire to make the film and her need to assert her independence warred within her, but it was an easy choice. Her desire for the rom-com won out. “All right.”

  Orlando held up a finger. “And we want regular updates on the status.”

  Bianca groaned. She really needed to declare her independence from her brothers — including moving out of the family mansion, another idea she’d been toying with lately. She’d been compliant and dependent on them for far too long.

  Leo wasn’t finished yet. “I suggest there should be a time limit on this venture. Completion within sixty days — starting today.”

  She shook her head and put her hands on her hips. “That’s cutting it way too close. Be reasonable.”

  “If you want it badly enough, you’ll make it happen, It can be done,” Orlando smirked.

  Bianca took a deep breath and pressed the point. “Ninety days...?”

  “Sixty.” He was standing firm.

  “Done,” she said with a nod. Despite the concessions, she still felt like she’d won. It would be a push to get it done in time, and she’d have to accept some key players she hadn’t planned on, but she could live with it.

  Orlando carried the three goblets over, handing one to Leo and another to Bianca. “I say let’s celebrate Moonchuckle Bay Studio’s newest endeavor: a paranormal rom-com. We’ll assign Frank to direct Even More Brains. And sixty-one days from now, you’ll come back to us ready to make the next Creature Feature.”

  “Not even one day off...?” she teased.

  Orlando laughed. “Sixty-two days, then. Actually, sixty-seven days. Take a hard-earned week.”

  Leo smiled and lifted his goblet. “To your great success in this new endeavor.”

  Carefully, they touched the delicate crystal goblets together and smiled at each other, part of an old ritual.

  She’d won! She could hardly believe it.

  They sipped the Merl-O and set the goblets back down on the tray.

  Her phone buzzed and she checked her text messages. She had a new one from an unknown number.

 

  “Won’t this guy ever give up?” she murmured in disgust. “Now he has my phone number.”

  “Who?” Leo asked, immediately shifting into protective-big-brother mode.

  “Emmett Pierce.”

  “May I?” Orlando held out his hand, and she handed him the phone. He read the message, looked up, and caught Bianca’s gaze, an evil twinkle in his eye. “I say we glamour this toad.”

  She was tempted, but shook her head. “No, let’s not. He’s annoying, but I can handle him.” She didn’t want any harm to come to Emmett Pierce because of her; she just wanted him to leave her alone.

  Leo said, “We could blacklist him.”

  “No,” she replied adamantly as she took her phone from Orlando and pocketed it. “Just ignore him. He’s not worth going to any trouble.”

  Her brothers actually growled their displeasure.

  She laughed. “You can’t tear people limb from limb just because they irritate me.”

  “Did we mention tearing anyone apart?” Leo asked Orlando innocently.

  Orlando shook his head. “Absolutely not. We mentioned blacklisting and glamouring. Do those sound like limb from limb?”

  Bianca smiled at her brothers. “But then he’d say something stupid and you’d feel compelled to defend my honor and who knows what would happen to him.”

  “Just say the word when you want us to handle him for you.” Orlando smiled indulgently. “Now go make your little movie, Bianca, before we change our minds.”

  Little movie?

  Even allowing for the fact that Orlando had been raised in early 1800s Italy, she wanted to bonk him on the head with something. But she resisted. She very much wanted to make this little movie.

  She was going to show them.

  Enough with the Cowboy Thoughts

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, BIANCA’S TO-DO list contained four tasks:

  * Call Dahlia Wayne — Costume Designer

  * Call Nate Gibbons — Special FX Makeup

  * Call Blake Gladwell — And hope he can’t do it so I can then...

  * Call Lance Uddy — Key Grip

  She’d gotten mixed results from the calls so far. Dahlia had accepted and would fly out tomorrow. Nate had to decline because of a prior commitment, but expressed his hope that there’d be a future offer. So she’d then called Quincy Jenkins, her first choice, and sent him a contract.

  Next, she pulled up Blake Gladwell’s number and sighed. She really wanted to work with Lance. She respected his work and they worked well together. Plus, he’d done some romantic comedies, so he understood the differences between rom-coms and her usual monster movies.

  Before she’d made any calls, she’d spent a few minutes online researching each person’s most recent work, even those she’d worked with before. Impressive so far. Her brother had a keen sense of people.

  Several pages of information popped up when Bianca Googled “Blake Gladwell key grip.” There were articles about him playing on the football team of the University of Texas at Austin, a list of the numerous movies he’d worked on — prestigious movies, beginning with Walk the Line and ending with his most recent. There were a few references to him being a good luck charm. She found quotes by coworkers praising Blake’s work ethic and professionalism. Finally, there was an article about an Oscar win for some innovation in lighting.

  Hmmm. Her respect for the man moved up the scale with each new bit of information. Apparently he knew his stuff. And he seemed to get along with people. That was always a plus when working with a large cast and crew, and she estimated she’d have about a hundred people working on this one.

  Begrudgingly, she admitted to herself that Leo might have been right about him, too.

  Now she felt ready to call him and offer him the position, though she still kind of hoped that he had something in the works.
There was a news article that made a big deal about how Blake was working on the set of a movie that Miranda Scott was starring in. Apparently, he was one of her several ex-husbands. Since he was involved in that, Bianca held out hope that he wouldn’t be available for hers. Then she could hire her first choice. Either way, it would work out, she supposed.

  Crossing her fingers, she dialed his number.

  A husky male voice with a warm southern draw answered, “Howdy. This is Blake Gladwell.” She’d read that he was raised in Texas, but for some reason the accent surprised her. The smooth-as-honey sound sent shivers along her arms.

  Wow. She’d better hope he had a prior commitment. That voice would be a major distraction on a day-to-day basis. “Hello, Mr. Gladwell. This is Bianca Rossi calling from Moonchuckle Bay Studio.”

  “Good morning, Ms. Rossi. How may I help y’all this fine day?”

  The y’all triggered another shiver. It wasn’t just the drawl, either. This guy had a voice made for more than key grip duties. He could narrate books, for one thing, and women would buy them by the hundreds. Make a fortune doing voiceovers. Take candy from a baby — or, apparently, a vampire.

  She forced her attention back to the task at hand. “I’m directing a new film for our studio, and I’d like to offer you a contract for the key grip position.”

  She named a salary that was at the upper limits of what they usually paid on a production.

  “That’s a mighty generous offer, Ms. Rossi. And by a strange coincidence, I have a contract from Time Warner Studio sitting on my desk at this moment where they’re offering me ten-percent more than the figure you just mentioned.”

  Okay, then. He was a negotiator. So was she — normally — but she was also under direction to hire this guy. Would Leo still be as thrilled about that when he found out he was costing more? That thought made her smile. “All right. We’ll match the offer you have before you plus one thousand dollars. I do hope you find that satisfactory.”

  Mr. Gladwell chuckled, and the sound sent that shiver down to her toes, practically curling them. “I like the way you think. Barring anything objectionable I might find in the fine print, I accept your offer.”

  “Good.” A thrill ran through her at the thought of hearing that voice every day on the set. Dangerous, but tantalizing.

  Bianca pushed the thoughts aside. “I must warn you that we’re on a tight schedule — sixty days from yesterday — so we will be putting in some extra-long days with few days off.”

  “All right. That’s tight, but manageable.” Blake replied.

  Bianca couldn’t decide if the excitement she felt right then was because she was finally getting to make the movie of her dreams, or because she’d get to hear more of that voice. She cleared her throat. “If you’ll give me your email address, I’ll have my assistant send the contract to you right away.”

  As he rattled it off, she wrote it down in her planner. Remembering that Camilla was out of town, Bianca pulled up her own email. Because of the time crunch, she’d send it to him herself, after increasing the salary amount.

  Sounding pleased, Blake responded, “Okay, then. Thank you, Ms. Rossi. It’s a pleasure doing business with you. I want to thank you for thinking of me.”

  “Actually, it was my brother, Leo Rossi, who brought you to my attention.”

  “Ah, yes. I spoke with him earlier.”

  Bianca scowled. Leo hadn’t even given her until lunchtime? She’d just spoken with her brothers this morning and told them she’d be make the calls today. Dismayed, she asked, “Leo called you this morning?”

  “Yes. He told me about the opening and said that you’d be calling to make me an offer — one I couldn’t refuse — and I’m happy to say he was right.”

  “He did, huh?” Anger bubbled in her stomach. Didn’t Leo trust her to do what she’d said she would? Did he really think she would lie about it?

  Not realizing that he was stirring the fire, Blake replied, “He did. He said he knew you’d be calling, but wanted to let me know how much he and your other brother were hoping I’d accept your offer when you did call. He didn’t say how generous you’d be, though.”

  Only slightly mollified, she huffed out an unnecessary breath. It wasn’t his fault her brothers were so overbearing. “Welcome to the team, Mr. Gladwell. I’ll have airline tickets arranged for you. Can you catch a plane tomorrow morning by ten?”

  “I can make that. Sure.”

  “The flight is over five hours. There will be a rental car waiting for you.”

  “Can I switch that to a rental truck?”

  She paused, then said, “Of course. It will take you about three hours to drive from St. George to Moonchuckle Bay, so we will book you a hotel in St. George for the night and expect you at the studio the following morning. There are a couple of places you can stay while you’re here, so you can check those out after you arrive.”

  “All right,” he said, agreeably. “Email me the contract and I’ll get it right back to you after a read. And Ms. Rossi? I’m happy to be invited. Your studio is well respected in the business, as are you. I look forward to working with you.”

  His words soothed her somewhat — but not as much as his warm, rumbly voice and comfortable drawl. It was like she was talking to a real-life cowboy from an old-fashioned western. A really sexy cowboy, in a Stetson and boots and ... Okay. Enough with the cowboy thoughts. This ought to be interesting, to say the least.

  Bianca felt much better about working with him than she had before she called. “I look forward to working with you as well, Mr. Gladwell.”

  “Blake,” he corrected with a chuckle.

  “Blake, then.” She didn’t return the invitation to use her first name. She wasn’t quite ready for that informality. “I’ll email your contract in just a few minutes and await your reply.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then, ma’am.”

  She hung up and shivered.

  That voice was delightful. She’d have to be on her toes around him — and that would be easier if she could keep them from curling at just the sound of his voice.

  Oh, the Irony

  OVER THE PHONE, EMMETT PIERCE delivered an ultimatum. “I’m not rewarding you for excuses, only results.”

  “I’m trying,” the woman said, starting to cry.

  He hated it when people whined, and this woman’s whining was getting on his nerves. “You know what Yoda said: Do or do not. There is no try. So you do whatever it takes to ruin that film!”

  “This is my first big movie. Please don’t do this to me. If I’m caught, it will ruin my career.” Again with the whining.

  Whatever. As if she had any kind of a career to begin with. But she could if Bianca’s movie were a success. “If I were you, I’d be more afraid of your marriage being ruined by that little movie you don’t want anyone to know you starred in. Don’t you agree?”

  He already knew she was afraid that her husband John would find out about her one and only foray into erotica; an undertaking that she’d tried desperately to hide.

  Silence descended on her end of the line. He could almost sense her fear over the line. Good. Fear was a great motivator.

  While Pierce let her stew for a moment, he thought of Bianca Rossi. He hated to stoop to this level of persuasion, but Bianca had forced him to it.

  If only she’d be reasonable. If only she’d let him romance her. If only she’d gone into business with him when he asked. But she and her brothers had nixed that proposition. Ever since he’d met her at a Hollywood premiere last year, he’d been obsessed with her. He’d texted her yesterday, but so far she hadn’t responded.

  He was sure that when he finished this distasteful conversation, he’d have a message waiting from her, though.

  Finally, the weakling on the other end of the line softly pleaded, “That’s blackmail.”

  “Not at all. It’s simply advanced notice that I’m considering re-releasing that salacious movie again. It was a great moneymaker, b
ut I may not have to do that if this venture is a success. I’m offering you the opportunity to help us both, since I’m sure that John won’t like learning that his wife is a former porn star, will he?”

  He couldn’t release the movie again for legal reasons — a lawsuit regarding the screenplay and plot, as if there was a plot — but he wasn’t going to let her know that.

  She fell silent again.

  “Will he?” Emmett prodded.

  “No,” she whispered, defeated.

  “So you’ll do whatever it takes to keep this movie from being completed, right?”

  After a pause, she said with a sniffle, “Yes.”

  “Good girl. Now get back to work. Bianca’s counting on you to make her film a success. Oh, the irony.”

  He hung up and clicked over to check his text messages, anxious to see Bianca’s reply.

  No new notifications. He scrolled through his messages to make sure that he hadn’t missed it. She hadn’t responded yet!

  Rage coursed through his veins.

  He stood, swiping everything on his desk to the floor, files, paperweight, and a vase of flowers. The vase bounced on the carpet, but didn’t break — until he circled the desk and stomped on it.

  The witch! The plane he’d arranged cost a great deal, and he might not be able to get his money back at this point.

  His secretary opened the door, eyes wide. “Is everything all right, sir?”

  “Get out!” he snarled, and she backed out and shut the door. He picked up the paperweight and hurled it at the door. It hit the doorknob and shattered.

  Who did Bianca think she was? He could have any woman he wanted — and he wanted her, the coldest woman in the world.

  Breathe, he told himself. During their therapy sessions, Sally always told him to breathe deeply when he was upset. He could talk to Sally. She understood him.

  Breathe, he repeated, and closed his eyes. He had to get control of himself.

  Everything was going to be fine.