Just a Little Camera Shy: A Scripted for Love Novel

by MK Meredith

  “Why indeed?” Sam chuckled.

  Dee turned to Luca. “Honey, isn’t there something you could do? Some sort of legal mumbo jumbo to get your sister out of this without her losing her home?”

  Luca pushed back from the table and carried the potato peels over to the trash can. “Who wants wine?” He pulled down a Cabernet from the wine shelf and focused his energies on opening it. “I’m going to put my ‘mumbo jumbo’ talents to work.”

  Addi put her hand over her mouth to smother a giggle, delighted he’d actually made a joke since he was usually so serious. She was surprised she had the giggle in her.

  Her poor mother received no help from the Dekker clan, and she hadn’t even bothered asking their father. Frank Dekker would simply kiss her and tell her to let it go. Addi imagined mothers had a much more difficult time doing such a thing. Kind of like asking a writer not to write or a singer not to sing. A mom had to mother. It was in their blood.

  Addi loved Sunday dinners at her parents’ house. They always had great food, great conversation, and many, many laughs. Usually at Sam’s expense—she was more fun to tease—but apparently not tonight. And Addi could use a good laugh. On her way over to dinner, she’d vowed to keep it light, good-hearted, and focus on everyone else. Her mother made that task near impossible with her constant demands for Addi to let them help her save the house. Well, she’d already made up her mind. She would figure out the mess she’d made all on her own—only this time, she’d start out the way she meant to continue.

  A sigh demanded to be released, but Addi sucked it back. The last thing she wanted was question after question about Roque. She thought about him enough on her own without having her family bring him up at every turn.

  So far, they’d been keeping all the conversations pointed toward Aunt Addi’s house. She could handle that.

  As her mother prepared the sweet potato salad and her father grilled the steaks, Addi wandered over to the back patio area. Gage had finished his conversation and stepped through the sliding doors as she slid out.

  Sam met her at the door with two glasses of wine. She tilted her head and studied Addi. “You look like hell, sis.”

  “Ouch.” Addi took the wine. “Is it that bad?” she asked as the two settled into lounge chairs nestled in one corner of the little backyard oasis.

  “It is to me, but I’m your sister. You’re putting on a good show, though.”

  Addi leaned back. “Good, I can’t handle twenty questions right now.”

  “Have you spoken with him yet?”

  “And question number one. Yeah. He stopped by yesterday and returned the money I sent to his accountant. He told me—”

  Sam straightened in her seat. Addi couldn’t believe how hopeful she looked. There was a time when Sam had held the title for most pessimistic. Now happily married, she was all rainbows and butterflies.

  Addi pressed her lips together and swallowed past the lump in her throat. Her heart heavy and her throat tight, she continued. “Good luck with my writing.”

  Sam smiled.

  “And that fiction suited me.”

  Sam frowned. “Oh wow. That sucks.”

  Addi’s eyes welled. Jumping up from her seat, Sam sunk in next to Addi, pulling her close. “I’m so sorry. I know this hurts, but you two will work it out.”

  “I don’t think so. He said we’re over. There’s nothing I can do. I thought selling the house would prove how sorry I am, but he doesn’t care. I’m looking for other options, but I’m afraid it may be my only one.”

  Sam sipped from her glass, and Addi polished off hers.

  “Then why sell it? You love it more than any of us ever did. And he gave you back the money. You could figure it out.” Sam waved her hand at Addi. “Makes sense; you’re so much like her. Besides, in the past, you’ve said they owed you, right?”

  Addi leaned over her sister and set her glass on the table. “I have to sell it, Sam. I’m not keeping the money even if I think I deserve it. It’s about time I grow up and act like an adult. Settling my debts is the beginning of doing just that. Whether Roque agrees or not, paying him back every penny is necessary, for me and for him. Selling the house is the only way. It’s not like I’m signing any writing contracts any time soon.”

  She settled in next to her sister, remembering all the times they’d lain just like this when they were children, calling out shapes made of clouds and talking about being president one day. It all seemed so simple back then. “Besides, I think, deep down, losing the house is the right consequence for playing so loosely with someone else’s money. Hollywood, Gallagher Studios…it doesn’t matter; my scheme was wrong.”

  “But oh, so clever. I’d have loved to think of something like that when I was dealing with all that crap after Ethan died.”

  Addi nodded. “Unfortunately, I used your experience to justify it all to myself.” She shook her head. “You won’t believe some of the trouble I got myself into.”

  “I can imagine. You’re my sister, remember?”

  “What am I going to do, Sam?” Addi whispered, her heart in a painful squeeze. She couldn’t breathe.

  Her sister smiled at her and tapped the tip of Addi’s nose with a finger. “What you always do.”

  Addi kept staring.

  “You’re going to find a way to get your way. Some things might have changed, Addi, but not everything.”

  Addi snorted though it missed her usual energy. She appreciated her sister’s confidence but was a bit insulted, too. She didn’t always get her way. Not always. She could think of a time or two where she didn’t get what she wanted. Her writing was one, and there was…

  She thought hard. Well, fine, she usually got her way, but as much as she wanted it to be true, this wasn’t one of those times. Roque made it crystal clear he wanted nothing more to do with her. Addi could only handle his rejection so much. It hurt worse than anything she could remember as she’d known it would.

  The hard things hurt, and everyone had to deal with them. She couldn’t go through life afraid of those things anymore.

  She’d give anything, even Aunt Addi’s home, to get her way just one more time. If only she’d known two months ago what she knew now.

  Her home was with Roque. No more and no less.

  Chapter 24

  Roque scrubbed his hand through his hair again, immediately cooled in the shadow left by the cloud blocking the sun. They’d been filming at Topanga Beach trying to get the shot right all morning, but every time the lighting changed, the whole scene fell apart. He put up his hand, calling a stop to the action. “Gage, this just isn’t working.”

  His director considered him with crossed arms over his chest. “It would be going great if we could actually get through a whole ten minutes before you yell ‘cut’. That’s my job.”

  Roque studied the playback on the screen. “No, it’s not right. The lighting keeps fucking up the mood.”

  “No, you keep fucking up the mood. The lighting is offering a hint of reality to the scene.”

  Roque shot his hand toward the sky. “The weather isn’t working. It’s—

  Gage shot up from his chair and walked toward the tent. “Cut! Let’s break.”

  Following him to the tent, Roque grabbed a water from the cooler and twisted off the cap. “Look, we discussed this scene beginning to end and back again.”

  “Exactly. So let me shoot it,” Gage said. He leaned back against one of the tables. “Have you called her?”

  Roque scowled. “Don’t go there. Now’s not the time.”

  “It is when it’s affecting the film.”

  “She is not the reason we can’t get the shot.” Roque tossed his empty plastic bottle into the recycling bag.

  “You’re right. You are.” Gage looked out over the pounding surf, then back to Roque. “Let me do my job.”

  “Listen—” He glanced at the empty tables and then at his watch. Panic filled his chest and he grabbed his phone. “God dammit. I forgot
to order lunch.”

  Pushing away from the table, Gage, too, checked the time. “Shit, there’s no way you’ll get anything catered on time at this point. I’ll treat the crew to lunch. What are you in the mood for? Sushi or a burger?”

  “Fuck. It’s my problem. I’ll treat.” He released a breath, trying to relieve the tight squeeze in his chest. Addi had taken care of the meals. Scheduling the catering never made it onto his to-do list with the slew of other items he’d needed to take back onto his plate. Sliding two fingers between his lips, he let loose a loud, impatient whistle. “We’ve another hour to work, then we’ll load up and go to lunch.”

  His announcement was received with nods and smiles as the crew took their places. Gage spoke to the cinematographer, pointing and nodding with intermittent grunts of approval. Roque looked back at the sky with its fickle clouds and scowled. He was in a mood. He felt it, and so did everyone else.

  They ate lunch and muddled through the rest of the afternoon. He was disappointed with every shot they took, and Gage loved every one.

  “Man, you’re crazy. These are brilliant.”

  “They’re mediocre at best. We’re missing something.”

  Gage clenched his jaw as he helped pack up the equipment and load it into the trailer they’d backed to the edge of the parking lot. “Look, sleep on it. Let’s study it again tomorrow with fresh eyes.”

  Something caught his eye over Roque’s shoulder, and he jerked his chin in that direction. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

  Roque turned to find Martin Gallagher approaching, hands in his houndstooth slacks pockets, looking every bit an academic scholar. Martin grinned. “Talk sense into Roque? We both know the answer to that.”

  “Cute.”

  Gage helped the cameraman close the back doors of the trailer and then slapped the side. Brushing sand from his hands, he leaned over to grab his bag. Speaking to Martin he said, “It’s been a day. I’m off.” With a salute to both men, he followed the rest of the crew into the parking lot.

  Roque watched as they all slid into their cars. They weren’t worried. Their names were one of many on the film, not the main one. Must be nice to be so free of stress or ownership. Even as he thought it, he knew he was being unfair, but fuck if he couldn’t shake the cloud hanging over his perspective all day.

  Martin stepped in beside him, and they walked a bit along the boardwalk.

  Finally, Martin broke the silence. “What’s going on?”

  With the barest shake of his head, Roque sighed. “It didn’t work today. Nothing worked today.”

  Martin grunted. “Sounds like a typical day on the set to me.”

  “Gage seemed to think it all turned out… ‘Brilliantly’ is the word he used, I think. It worries me that our visions aren’t aligned.”

  Martin laughed and clapped him on the back. “Nothing is going to look good to you right now. Have you talked to her?”

  “Don’t.”

  “Boy, the fact you think you can just lose yourself in your work as if nothing has happened is ridiculous. You don’t have time to dwell, but you’ll have to manage how missing Addi is affecting your work.”

  “I don’t miss Addi, and not having her here has nothing to do with today. The fucking weather and my lack of planning is what screwed today up.”

  “Sure,” Martin said. “You and Addi made a great team.”

  Roque stopped walking. “I worked just fine before ever meeting Addi. I’ll be just fine without her.”

  “But you’re better with her.”

  He did not need Addi to complete this film, and he didn’t need his family and friends treating him as if he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. He was making a name for himself before she ever entered his life, and his film would be a success without her. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “Roque.”

  “She thinks we stole from her.” He started walking, and Martin fell into place alongside him again.

  “We did have trouble with that punk a few years back who was taking credit for questionable acquisitions. Maybe we missed one. What was his name?” Martin snapped his fingers as if the action would jar his memory. “Worth looking into. You’ll feel like an even bigger ass if it’s true. Why don’t you come over for dinner? Your aunt would love to see you.”

  Roque stretched his neck from side to side, taking in Martin’s words. “I can’t. I have work.”

  “Son, you always have work.”

  Roque swung around. “You’re right. I do. So, if you’ll excuse me.” Leaving his uncle on the boardwalk, he made his way to his car. He didn’t need anyone reminding him that he put his work before anything else, that his work kept him from being with those he loved, or seeing the signs when those who said they loved him really hadn’t. He didn’t need any of it.

  Between Martin and Martin Jr., is seemed they were all more worried about how Addi was getting on than how he was. Well, that was fine. The next thing he’d hear was that he was the one who needed to apologize. Hell, it seemed as far as they were concerned, he didn’t deserve her in the first place.

  Well, at this point they could all go to hell as one big happy family.

  Making his way home, he lugged his stuff to his condo and set up to study the film shot that day. He viewed different shots over and over again until he forgot what the hell he was supposed to be looking for.

  His phone buzzed, and he glanced distractedly at it to find Addi’s number highlighted. Visions of her grief-stricken face when he left her house surfaced. He’d been cruel but no crueler than her. Ignoring the phone, he leaned in to view a few frames again. He tried to focus, but the knot in his gut wouldn’t be ignored.

  He missed the scent of honey in the air when she was around.

  With a curse, he shot from his chair.

  And with one forceful sweep of his hand, he sent all of his notes and notebooks flying off the table and crashing to the floor.

  Addi made her way to the bare kitchen and went through the motions of making coffee. That would be the last thing she’d put into storage. Every image of Roque sipping from his cup was her punishment for the things she’d done wrong. If only she’d listened to Chase; if only she’d found work before getting herself into this mess. If only.

  With her cup in hand, she stepped through the back door to the yard and walked over to the hammock. It was just under seventy degrees, and the December sky was a brilliant blue with the sun shining, almost as if it were laughing. She sank into the hammock and lay back, shielding her eyes. The world mocked her with its bright glowing days and winter songbirds. She needed to move somewhere where the outside matched her desolation inside. Addi rolled her eyes. What she really needed was a good kick in the ass to stop feeling sorry for herself.

  Too restless to lie down for long, she swung her legs over the edge and scooched forward. A glint of light caught her eye, and she slid from the hammock to investigate. Rummaging through the grass with care, she found a shard of glass and stared at it.

  The memory of Roque’s pain the night he’d come to the house and thought he was alone, along with her own actions, sliced at her. Just one more example of her deceit, she’d lurked and watched, uninvited—trespassing. He’d been hurting. It never occurred to her at the time that she’d hurt him, too. Keeping her secrets to herself was supposed to be harmless, a means to an end.

  She turned the piece of glass over and over in her hand. It was both beautiful and menacing, a symbol of the pain Roque experienced with his mother. The pain existed because of incredible beauty that had touched his life, but the loss of that beauty sliced with a sharp, clean cut.

  She turned the piece over one more time, and the edge cut through the skin at the tip of her finger. She winced and sucked on the injured part. When would she learn? Don’t lie, don’t keep secrets, and don’t pick up broken glass.

  She inspected her wound and found it wasn’t deep, just insulting.

  “What are you doi
ng back here? I rang the bell but you didn’t hear it, and God only knows how that’s possible.”

  Addi snapped her head up as Sam walked through the French doors from the kitchen. “You rang the bell?” Her voice sounded flat to her ears.

  “That thing shrieks like a berserker.”

  Addi pulled up the corners of her lips at the joke, but the movement lacked the usual lightness of emotion that accompanied it.

  Sam stepped forward and wrapped her fingers around Addi’s wrist, yanking her up from the hammock. “What happened? Oh, my God, Addi. Come on, I’ll—”

  Addi pulled back against her sister’s insistent tug. “No, stop. Sam. Stop.”

  Yanking her hand away, she turned to sit back down.

  “You need to clean it out, you don’t—”

  Once again, the people in her life found her incapable of the simplest things. Anxiety burned and seized in her chest. Her breaths came hard and fast. She was a grown woman. Damn it.

  “I can take care of myself.” Addi shouted in succinct beats.

  Sam stepped back, a look of shock morphing quickly into pain. Addi brushed past her sister. She hadn’t meant to hurt her, but she didn’t have the energy to be careful of someone else’s feelings.

  Sam followed her into the kitchen. “I was only trying to help.”

  Addi spun with her arms spread wide. “I know. I can’t do anything. Poor, poor Addi has to have someone take care of her, has to have someone do everything for her.” Tears streamed down her face as she yelled between sobs. Apparently her tears weren’t all gone, after all.

  Sam put up her hands, her eyes wide and concerned. “Whoa, wait a second. That’s not fair. How often have we all had to come running to your side? What do you expect us to do?”

  “Mom is always ‘baby this’ and ‘baby that’. Daddy, too. Hell, you even called me that the other night.”

  “The other night? Addi, you are my baby sister. When you’re hurting I want to make it better because I love you, not because I don’t think you can handle it.”

  Addi shook her head. “No, my whole life—”