Silent Song

by Ren Benton

  His kick sent her shooting across the floor. The back of her chair bounced off the bookcase. The rebound sent her rolling back toward Lex, but the wheels quickly lost momentum against the floor and transferred the tiny bit of residual energy into a spin of the seat that slowly, slowly, slowly turned her toward the corner.

  “Yeah, no, that is Blair Witch levels of creepy. Get back here.”

  She doubled over with laughter while he dragged her chair backward. He gave it a warning shake. “You’d better have your whole face when I turn you around. We’ve already established I can’t run far in a high-altitude horror situation.”

  She gasped at another joke about a weakness and scrambled to cover it up. Don’t make a big deal out of it. “Does my whole face have to be on my face, or could parts of it be in a jar?”

  Ethan chose that moment to poke his head through the doorway and clearly regretted the decision. “Given the screeching, I expected nudity, not face-in-a-jar. Everybody alive?”

  “And alert,” Lex confirmed.

  Ethan scowled with mock severity. “This close to bedtime, we strive to create a calm, restful atmosphere conducive to sleep.”

  Fat lot of good that did. She couldn’t hear calm and restful through the deadlines and backlogs screaming in her head. “Think of the late-night excitement as helping Lex adjust to his touring schedule. When he can stay awake until dawn, we can say we provided a valuable service and call it his payment.”

  “I bet he’d rather have the tube top and booty shorts.”

  Lex perked up. “Um, yeah?”

  Gin scooted back to the keyboard, determined to knock out two more scenes before calling it a night. “When you find out who’ll be wearing them, remember who took credit for convincing Ethan to stop waxing.”

  4

  In the morning, again, Lex was waiting when Gin shambled into the kitchen. They made it to the three-mile marker on their run without incident and halfway back before she called it off in the name of a cool-down walk. That earned a token grumble, promptly contradicted by thanks for leaving him with enough steam to get up the steps without a winch.

  Again, she was the last to arrive in the office. Ethan assigned her first chore as soon as she crossed the threshold. “You need to put in your five minutes on Twitter.”

  Her face spasmed with an involuntary grimace. “Because I haven’t met my weekly quota for being called a cunt yet.”

  Lex raised his brows. “Say what?”

  She folded into her chair. “One of the many joys of being a woman on the internet.”

  Ethan glowered at Lex. “Super-sized since your fangirls—”

  “Hush, Ethan.”

  “Yeah, hush.” Lex grabbed his phone off its new home on their charger. “I’ll just search her handle and read her mentions.”

  She knew what he’d find. Industry links, fans seeking engagement, and causes on a quest for retweets, marbled with a generous vein of vitriol from the liberalism is a disease and Hollywood elites will be exterminated crowd, with a recent resurgence of opinions about her social life.

  he dumped you for a reason bitchwhore

  hes 2 good 4 u poser cunt

  leave Lex alone stick to what u do best make shitty movies n kill ur fans

  Either the tone or semi-literate composition aroused Lex’s curiosity. “What the hell is wrong with these people?”

  “Internet-acquired humanity deficiency virus,” Ethan diagnosed the malady. “Are you going to call off the dogs?”

  As a public relations expert, Ethan knew better; as her friend, he’d burn the world in her defense. Keeping the flamethrower out of Lex’s hands fell to her. “You can’t say anything.”

  He didn’t take his eyes — or thumbs — off his phone. “Watch me.”

  “They’ll turn on you.”

  “And?”

  The man had no sense of self-preservation. “You have a tour coming up.”

  That got him to look at her. “So if I piss off enough people, I’ll be sleeping in my own bed that much sooner? I’m not seeing a downside.”

  Lost revenue immediately came to mind, but she knew that couldn’t compete with how fussy he was about his damn pillow, and he’d already been typing long enough to ruin three lesser careers. Gin glared at Ethan. “You did that on purpose.”

  He covered his heart with his hand. “I am hurt that you would accuse me of enlisting a third party to put the smackdown on your enemies.”

  “A ferocious army of little girls typing with their thumbs.” They weren’t all little, nor were they all girls, but labeling them enemies overstated the threat to a cry-wolf degree. She’d rather reserve that title for people closer to breaking into her house.

  Meanwhile, Lex continued typing.

  “What are you doing, responding to every one of them individually?”

  “Tweetstorm!” Ethan sang. He pulled it up on his browser and laughed. “This is the best use of two hundred eighty characters I’ve ever seen.”

  “I refuse to look.”

  Ethan refused to leave her blissfully ignorant. “He’s invited everyone who wants to be an asshole to his collaborator to send all Gone & Forgotten items to his publicist’s office for a refund because he doesn’t want them listening to his music, wearing his merch, or showing up at his concerts. He then offers the offenders the opportunity to unfollow him before he blocks them.”

  “Yeah, that was a lie. There needs to be a ‘block all’ option because scraping off these ticks will take all day. Can I issue a DMCA takedown for the ones using my picture?”

  Gin scoffed at his naïveté. “On social media? You can’t be serious.”

  “Copyright violations can be filed for profile pics and headers,” Ethan corrected from his position of expertise, “but the photographer is generally the copyright holder. Unless you know who took each picture and can convince them to serve the notice, you’re out of luck.”

  “Then thinning the herd of thirty million it is.”

  “You suck at social media.” Gin had to be badgered into fulfilling her obligation, but at least she didn’t outright tell customers she didn’t want their business. “How can you possibly have thirty million followers?”

  “Every woman I’m photographed next to shares custody of hers with me, and they don’t leave when it turns out to be nothing.”

  Ethan gave her a sucking-lemons look. “I keep saying you need to date more.”

  “Date. To get Twitter followers. Do you even hear yourself?”

  He continued as if he didn’t hear her. “The heavy hitters list is light on men, though. Could you be bi-curious for Katy Perry?”

  She had a bad feeling he wasn’t joking. “Not since she became so commercial.”

  “Another Perry-Greene would be sloppy, anyway. Rihanna?”

  “As if I could get Rihanna.”

  “Good point.” Her withering glare failed to divert him. “I guess we’ll have to start smaller and collect stepfollowers slowly. Is Timberlake still married?”

  She looked up and willed the ceiling to fall on her.

  “Aw, Lex Follow Fridayed you like it isn’t a Wednesday. ‘Come for the updates on our collaboration. Stay for the intelligent, heart-wrenching movies.’ Ooh, your follower count jumped.”

  Lex winked at her. “Hegemonic masculinity flexes its mighty muscles again, babycakes.”

  Both of them were enjoying this way too much. “I’m quitting the internet.”

  “You can’t. I just committed you to posting updates about me.”

  “Can I give them a picture? That’s all they really want.”

  “Only if I look mean. I have an image to uphold.”

  Mean wasn’t the word any woman on the planet would use to describe his image, but he wasn’t hitting broody or sensitive at the moment, either. He looked relaxed and playful, like any minute he’d be wheedling them into playing hooky to go on an adventure. “Then they’re out of luck.”

  Ethan had a solution. “Read some m
ore of her mentions.”

  Lex scowled at the mere suggestion, and she captured the surly glory with her phone. “Is this sufficiently murderous?”

  He leaned over to inspect the display. “That will do nicely, yes.”

  She typed Lex Perry enjoying the morning GemGam productivity meeting, attached the photo, and posted the message.

  The picture popped up in her timeline, and she caught her breath like a swooning fan getting a privileged glimpse into his private life. His expression was intense, but his long body sprawled in the chair as if completely at ease.

  Those who saw the photo might not realize it, but what they were looking at was the essence of Lex — intense even at rest. He pursued relaxation and pleasure with the same obsessive determination he gave his work.

  Predictably, the shares and likes shot into the thousands before her eyes, and she felt slimy for exploiting him. “That’s enough putting the internet in an uproar for one day.”

  She held out her hand, palm up, and wiggled her fingers in the universal symbol for gimme.

  “Are you taking away my phone privileges?”

  “Yes, and you’re going to thank me for it because you don’t want the chewing-out you’re in for when Patty hears about your refund tantrum.”

  He skipped the grumbling this time and gently placed his phone in her hand. “If this accidentally finds its way into the microwave while I’m in the dungeon, I won’t be mad.”

  “That won’t save you.” Gin had seen him try to dodge his publicist before, and Patty hunted him down in person to make sure he understood making her job more difficult was not in his best interests. He could charm his way back into her good graces, but if he thought anyone in this office was going to protect him from her wrath in the meantime, he overestimated their courage.

  She glanced at the screen before shutting down his phone. “Wow. Do you have enough recording apps?”

  “Gotta have the right tool for the job. One to record and forward phone interviews, one for personal music sessions, one for jam sessions, one for gigs. Range and noise filtering for every occasion.”

  He’d have to live without his audio geek toys for a while. She slid his phone onto the charging pad. “Did you need something before Ethan led you to your doom?”

  “Nah. I just wanted to feel like part of the team for a minute before I’m locked in the studio all day.”

  “Gee, if only you had a team of your own. Like a band. With a bandmate who’s begging to keep you company in the studio.”

  He looked at his watch. “Twenty-four whole hours. Is this our routine now?”

  “You’re the one who keeps lamenting—”

  “Lamenting?”

  “—the absence of your drummer. I’m merely pointing out the obvious remedy for your sorrow.”

  The grin he flashed would have scorched the internet. The longer he treated these nudges like a game rather than a confrontation, the better Matt’s chances. “He’d be in the way, and I’d never get anything done.”

  Then you’d have to stay longer.

  She felt sorry for Matt, but she had her own reasons to prolong Lex’s stay. She liked running with him and feeding him and talking about work. They were spending more time together than they had on an everyday basis while they were involved, and it was less fraught with the tension of ugly secrets.

  He linked his fingers behind his head. “I wasn’t complaining about the creative isolation. I wouldn’t have it any other way. But it’s nice to touch base with somebody before heading off to the trenches.”

  “As long as it’s somebody who doesn’t get in your way.”

  “It’s your movie. You’re welcome to get in my way. Come to work with me. I’ll teach you how to social media.”

  Ethan wheezed. “As your public relations executive, I’m begging you not to take those lessons.”

  “It’s seventy-five degrees down in my lair,” Lex countered, voice dropping to a provocative rumble, “and I can make it hotter.”

  Ethan blinked. “Okay, I can’t compete with that. Run along.”

  Despite her body’s lunging eagerness to be seduced, that was not Lex being seductive. Talent didn’t go far without the charisma to convince every listener every song was aimed at her. The effect was more potent in the flesh — and Gin had vivid memories of the flesh, hot and demanding — so she had heightened susceptibility.

  If he invited her to his lair for anything above a PG rating, he wouldn’t be that subtle.

  Years of acting equipped her to pretend to be dead from the neck down, like a good professional. “I’ll come bother you at lunchtime.”

  It was probably unhealthy to reward herself for resisting temptation now by succumbing later, but there was a slim chance she would cool off and have some self-control by then.

  Ethan got warm enough to open the window a crack. He lingered at the glass, peering toward the garage. “Are we expecting company?”

  “We’re here to avoid company.” Being in the boonies and separated from the road by a quarter mile of driveway hadn’t deterred a pair of clean-cut young men peddling religion door to door last week, but otherwise, isolation had been successful.

  “If only Bob had installed blinds so we could close them and pretend not to be home.”

  At the risk of traumatizing his ingrained Southern sensibilities, she said, “We’re not obligated to welcome uninvited guests.”

  “They’ll think we’re rude.”

  Show business and its grasping legions had wrung that fear out of her decades ago. Boundaries were a matter of survival. “They’re rude to show up uninvited. Assume they’re doing unto others as they want done unto them and be content that you’re fulfilling their heartfelt desire by ignoring them.”

  He monitored the developing encroachment through the window. “Um, Gin? Olivia’s walking up the steps.”

  “Please tell me that’s a joke.” Olivia had her good points, but she was a disruptive force. In her presence, they could all forget about peace and quiet.

  “You’ll see for yourself if we ignore her and she comes to bang on the window.”

  Olivia was the kind of attention seeker who would find it wildly romantic to climb a tree, housebreak through a window, and ensconce herself in the resident’s bed. Tapping on a window at ground level lacked sufficient pizzazz. “She’ll probably skip directly to lifting her shirt.”

  “A picture of that will get you another million Twitter followers.”

  A timely phone call saved him from a lecture about being an opportunistic sleaze. His preoccupation left Gin to respond to the aggressive summons of the doorbell before anyone resorted to indecent exposure.

  Olivia had posed with her back to the door. She whirled with a flare of the ivory cape slung over her shoulders, dark hair settling upon it in stark contrast. “Sweetheart! It’s been an age!”

  Gin submitted to a hug and a flurry of cheek kisses. “It’s been a month, Liv.”

  “After putting my life in your hands for so long, a month is an intolerable separation.” Olivia released her. “Look who I found at the airport!”

  She spun aside to reveal Simone Greene picking her way up the stone steps in stiletto-heeled boots.

  Olivia had outdone herself in the provision of disruption. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Gin.” Simone’s tone carried the frown her most recent round of Botox prevented her forehead from forming.

  “Sorry, Simone. Surprise made my tongue slip.”

  Another round of air kisses indicated forgiveness for reminding her mother she was old enough to have a thirty-five-year-old child.

  Once the new arrivals cleared the threshold, Gin considered taking their place outside. She wouldn’t get far without car keys, but how bad could living in the wilderness be? Squirrels seemed to love it. She’d learn their ways and adapt to the cold.

  She took a deep breath and closed the door — from the inside. If she left Ethan, Lex, and Simone together without a referee, someone would qu
it, and Simone didn’t have a job to leave in protest. “What brings you two to this neck of the literal woods?”

  Olivia swept off her cape and discarded it over the back of the sofa. “I’ve been hearing the most delicious stories around town about you and Lex holed up in this little love nest, and I felt left out. Maisie wouldn’t tell me anything, so I finagled an invitation to Bobby and secured an invitation from him on your behalf.” A toss of her head rearranged a cascade of glossy hair over her shoulders. “When I bumped into Simone in the terminal, I knew it was destiny. And here we are!”

  Destiny was a mysterious operator, since both Maisie and Bob knew Simone was a large part of the need for a retreat and wouldn’t have pointed her in the direction of a flight to Denver.

  Simone headed for the bar rather than explain her sudden urge to forsake sunshine and glamor for thin air and Broncomania. “At last, a sign of civilization. I don’t know why you couldn’t work in the city like a normal person.”

  “The idea is to avoid distractions so we can get the work done sooner.”

  “People work in the city.”

  People whose mothers didn’t come to their offices to complain of boredom and neglect. The years of accompanying Gin and Ryan to work when they were minors had trained Simone to hover, and not even a thousand miles of distance could break the habit now.

  “All that matters is we’re together again.” Olivia clasped Gin’s arms. “Let me help you, Ginny.”

  Unless this visit was merely a pit stop en route to taking Simone to Olivia’s home in New Zealand, Gin couldn’t imagine what help she could provide. “Do you know how to cut a trailer?”

  “Help you with promo, beloved. I love what you’re doing, but subtlety will get you nowhere.”

  They were doing the usual media routine for this stage. Granted, the usual never led to an explosive opening weekend, but they didn’t have the cache of the Star Wars franchise to mobilize. “Your publicist and Ethan are already coordinating your press junket.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes so hard, they dragged her head along for the ride. “Bo-ring. We have an opportunity to cause a stir. If you and Lex work with me, we’ll have the drooling masses throwing their money at us.”