A Brand New Ending (Page 68)

“I hear you. I do,” Bell said. “But unless it’s Fifty Shades, with sex, or someone dies, a straight romance needs a bit of a bigger element. Plus, this isn’t a rom-com. We don’t want to change your vision, Kyle. We just need to tweak it to add a subplot that can interest the audience. I did the same thing with my last two movies and got an Academy Award. See where I’m going with this?”

Carlson agreed. “We don’t want it unless we can bring it to the next level. It’s perfect, but Alan is right. If we’re even thinking about offering producer credit, we need you to work with some bigger elements. We’ll work with you on it, and we can be open. Maybe a close friend gets murdered and the heroine goes back alone, then decides she wants to stay?”

“Or we add in a love triangle,” Bell suggested. “The girl goes back to the inn because of her friend getting murdered, meets a guest there, and begins to fall for him while she’s away from the hero. Now she has to choose one. Another spin on The Choice, right?”

Carlson nodded. “I love it. Kyle?”

He shifted in his seat. A warning voice whispered deep inside his gut, telling him to close out the meeting now and walk away. Already, he realized it would not be the story he’d originally conceived. Of course, he also knew they changed everything in Hollywood, and he needed to be reasonable. Maybe if he came up with his own revisions he could live with, it would be a win-win.

Ophelia’s voice echoed through his mind. “Don’t let them take away the heart and soul of your story, no matter what they promise. It’s too important for both of us.”

“You willing to work with us on this?” Bell asked. “’Cause if not, I gotta know now. I’m getting on a plane soon. You give me what I want in a reasonable way, we’ll get it done. I’ll give you producer credit.”

Something he’d been wanting for years. Something no other director had been able to offer him.

Reasonable. Compromise. Wasn’t that the necessary element to turn creativity into true success? Was he willing to scrap the best script he’d ever written and a chance to change his reputation? He could still do it on his terms. He could make it work.

Robbie rapped his knuckles on the table. “Let me talk to Kyle. We’ll get back to you in a few.”

Bell shrugged. “You got it. But make it fast.”

They left the conference room. Robbie made some notes on his pad and looked up to study his face. “What do you think? You’ll never get producer credit from anyone else. Bell is willing because he sees something big in you.”

“I think it’s bullshit,” he said. “I don’t want to change a damn thing.”

“You know that’s not how it works here. It never has.”

“I know.” He rubbed his head and spit out a curse. “I need to have final say in everything. Can you get me that?”

“Difficult, but not impossible. What about cast?”

“Right to reject in a reasonable way. I’ll work on the pages right away and find a compromise I can live with.”

“Then I’ll get it done.” He thumped Kyle on the shoulder. “You’re making the right decision. Starving artists are starving for a reason. I’ll let them know.”

Kyle watched his agent disappear back into the conference room. He leaned against the wall and wondered why this time felt different. The thought of telling Ophelia and having her be disappointed bothered him, but he had no other recourse. He was determined to make it work.

It had to.

“How bad do you miss him?”

Mia sat across from Ophelia in the booth at Bea’s Diner. They’d decided to take some time and go to lunch to catch up. Plus, Ophelia desperately needed some girl time. She was feeling a bit moony, and there was nothing better than being able to bitch to one of your people. “It’s terrible,” she admitted. “I can’t believe in the span of a few short months it was like we were married again.”

“Well, you are married.” Mia laughed. “And going to stay that way, right? What’s the plan?”

“He’s got this big meeting today for the new script. It depends if it sells, where it shoots, how much he’s needed on set. But . . .” she trailed off, still swamped with doubt.

“But?” Mia prodded.

“But I know how Kyle gets when he’s passionate about a project. He says he’s coming back, but if they need him on set twenty-four seven? Or if they demand constant rewrites? He may decide not to come back for a while.”

“He loves you. That’s evident,” Mia said. “You don’t think things have changed?”

“I guess I’m still scared he may not choose me.” Ophelia lifted her hands in surrender. “At this point, I have to just trust it will work out for us, because I love him.”

Mia reached out to clasp her hand. “I’ve never seen you so happy before. It was really hard for Ethan and me in the beginning, but once you realize the other person is the priority, choices are easier to make.”

The words hit her directly in the gut, like a sucker punch. Mia had called out the very depth of her worry.

“Yes.” She paused, then decided to tell her friend everything. “I read Kyle’s script.”

“Did you like it? Was it good?”

“It was about us. Our story.”

Mia gasped. “No way! He wrote about you?”

“Yeah, and I mean, he included everything. How we fell in love. Our life on the farm. His ups and downs with his dad. Our running away to California, and how it unfolded. It was so strange reading about us, but my God, it was good.”

The emotions that seeped onto the page had her up late at night, unable to put it down. It was heartbreaking and real and honest. It was everything she always believed he could write.

“Did he give you guys a happy ending?” Mia asked with a grin.

“That’s the strange part. He did, and I expected to swoon and love it. But for some reason, it didn’t feel right.” The end had felt false—the first lie within the truth—and it had left a lingering bitter taste in her mouth. “I don’t know, maybe it was just me.”

She heard her name being called, and turned. Albert walked over, dressed in his usual smart suit and wool hat, a beautiful carved cane in his hand. “Don’t want to interrupt a ladies’ lunch, but wanted to say hello,” he said, smiling and greeting them.

“What are you doing here?” Ophelia asked. “Are you buying Bea’s pies?”

It was well known Crystal’s had a pastry chef who was brilliant but very temperamental. Albert shook his head mournfully. “Alas, as much as Gerard keeps the restaurant at the top of its game, I’ve never been able to say no to Bea’s famous pies. But please don’t tell him. I’m afraid he’d quit.”

She laughed with Mia. “What happens at Bea’s, stays at Bea’s.”

“Please let me know that you’ll be dining with me soon. And Ophelia, I’m still holding out hope you’ll sing for me. Let me know if you’ve changed your mind.”

“I will, thank you.”

He tipped his hat and left. Ophelia tried to concentrate on her salad, but she felt Mia’s gaze piercing into her.

“Are you gonna tell me or make me ask?” she finally said.