The Siren
Page 105
The congenial atmosphere of the little party dampened considerably as Thomas Finley entered and started talking over his coworkers. Zach ignored him, huddling in the corner and chatting with J.P. and Mary about upcoming projects in L.A.
“I’ve only handled a few screenplays,” Zach said. “And the U.K. film scene is quite small. Hollywood might prove to be rather daunting.”
“Faulkner thought so, as well,” J.P. said. “He was working with a director, Howard Hawks, out in California. He told Hawks he thought he’d work better from home. Hawks told him that was fine not realizing Faulkner meant his real home, Mississippi. The man just packed up and went back to Mississippi to work from home.”
Zach and Mary laughed. J.P. patted Zach on his shoulder and excused himself to the restroom.
“You’d like to go home, wouldn’t you, Zach?” Finley said, slapping his hand on Zach’s back. Zach repressed a shudder and turned to face him. Of course, Thomas would wait until the second J.P. was gone to start in on him. “England, I mean. I don’t know if L.A. is safe for you. Have you ever had a tan in your life? Probably not. No tanning in a fog.”
“I plan on working in L.A., Thomas. Not playing.”
“Working like Faulkner?” he asked with a smarmy grin. “How many affairs did Faulkner have while out in L.A.? Three? Four? Of course, you’re not married anymore, Zach, so I guess they won’t count as affairs. Oh, wait…you’re still married, aren’t you? I’d forgotten. Hard to tell sometimes. So I guess Nora Sutherlin was number one.”
Zach locked eyes with Finley. “I am not, was not and have not slept with Nora Sutherlin. She is, was, one of my writers. I try to respect that line.”
“Writer? She’s a whore, Zach, and we both know it.”
“You don’t know anything, Thomas,” Zach countered. “Call her whatever you want—she’s still one of the most promising writers I’ve ever worked with. I’d far rather work with whores than hacks any day.”
“Hacks?” Thomas took an angry step closer. “None of my writers are whores. And they’re definitely not hacks.”
“I wasn’t talking about your writers.” Zach heard a collective gasp from around the room as the implication of his words sunk in.
“You son of a bitch.” Before anyone but Zach could react, Thomas raised his arm to take a swing at him.
But Zach had more fights with drunken football hooligans under his belt than he cared to admit, thanks to his days as a bartender in university. He ducked and swung back, making fierce, hard contact with Thomas’s chin. His head snapped to the side and Thomas went down in an instant.
There was a long silence as the room seemed to take in the scene that had just played out before them. And then it was filled with applause and laughter.
“Mary,” Zach said. “Did you know that the first rule of S&M is to hurt, but not harm?”
Thomas wiped blood from his mouth.
“Looks unharmed to me, boss.”
Without waiting another second, Zach ran from the room and headed for the elevators.
“Where are you going?” Mary called out as she raced down the hall behind him.
“I’m getting my writer back. Or at least her book.”
Mary grinned at him.
“Good luck, Zach. Just so you know this is why you’re my favorite boss of all time.”
Zach fled the building, his right hand throbbing, and hailed a taxi. Suddenly he realized he wasn’t sure what he was doing.
He gave the driver his address to his own flat. He’d try calling Nora again from there. If she didn’t answer he’d go to her house. And if she wasn’t at her house, well, he’d hunt her down any way he could.
Zach stopped in the lobby of his building and dialed Nora’s number from the phone at the front desk. If she answered he wouldn’t even bother going upstairs.
“Wesley,” Zach said, relieved to hear the boy’s voice. “It’s Zach. I need Nora. Please, is she there?”
“She’s gone, Zach. She was gone by the time I got up this morning. What do you want? You dumped Nora, remember? Want to dump her again?”
Zach sighed, guilt stabbing into his stomach.
“I was wrong about her, Wesley. I’m apologizing to her…again.”
“This time she really shouldn’t let you.”
“Believe me, I know. But please, can you give me any idea where she could be?”
“It’s Nora. She’s probably where you’d least expect.”
Zach hung up and tried to think. He decided to go up to his flat to dig out his copy of her book from under his bed and think it out. If she wasn’t at home she could be anywhere. With a client, at the 8th Circle, on the moon for all he knew.
Where you’d least expect… Zach thought to himself as the lift climbed the twenty-three stories. Those words reminded him of something he’d heard before.
You merely think you know her. It’s one of her best tricks. She flirts, she teases, she confesses everything but reveals nothing. It’s the oldest magician’s trick—smoke and mirrors, misdirection… You are absolutely certain she’s here, Søren had said. Zach slipped his key in the lock of his door and turned the knob. When all the while she’s right over here…
“Hello, Zach.”
It took almost a full ten seconds for Zach to register that Nora stood in his living room. She was wearing a suit and a tie and a smile so defiant he was as nervous as he was relieved.
“I’ve only handled a few screenplays,” Zach said. “And the U.K. film scene is quite small. Hollywood might prove to be rather daunting.”
“Faulkner thought so, as well,” J.P. said. “He was working with a director, Howard Hawks, out in California. He told Hawks he thought he’d work better from home. Hawks told him that was fine not realizing Faulkner meant his real home, Mississippi. The man just packed up and went back to Mississippi to work from home.”
Zach and Mary laughed. J.P. patted Zach on his shoulder and excused himself to the restroom.
“You’d like to go home, wouldn’t you, Zach?” Finley said, slapping his hand on Zach’s back. Zach repressed a shudder and turned to face him. Of course, Thomas would wait until the second J.P. was gone to start in on him. “England, I mean. I don’t know if L.A. is safe for you. Have you ever had a tan in your life? Probably not. No tanning in a fog.”
“I plan on working in L.A., Thomas. Not playing.”
“Working like Faulkner?” he asked with a smarmy grin. “How many affairs did Faulkner have while out in L.A.? Three? Four? Of course, you’re not married anymore, Zach, so I guess they won’t count as affairs. Oh, wait…you’re still married, aren’t you? I’d forgotten. Hard to tell sometimes. So I guess Nora Sutherlin was number one.”
Zach locked eyes with Finley. “I am not, was not and have not slept with Nora Sutherlin. She is, was, one of my writers. I try to respect that line.”
“Writer? She’s a whore, Zach, and we both know it.”
“You don’t know anything, Thomas,” Zach countered. “Call her whatever you want—she’s still one of the most promising writers I’ve ever worked with. I’d far rather work with whores than hacks any day.”
“Hacks?” Thomas took an angry step closer. “None of my writers are whores. And they’re definitely not hacks.”
“I wasn’t talking about your writers.” Zach heard a collective gasp from around the room as the implication of his words sunk in.
“You son of a bitch.” Before anyone but Zach could react, Thomas raised his arm to take a swing at him.
But Zach had more fights with drunken football hooligans under his belt than he cared to admit, thanks to his days as a bartender in university. He ducked and swung back, making fierce, hard contact with Thomas’s chin. His head snapped to the side and Thomas went down in an instant.
There was a long silence as the room seemed to take in the scene that had just played out before them. And then it was filled with applause and laughter.
“Mary,” Zach said. “Did you know that the first rule of S&M is to hurt, but not harm?”
Thomas wiped blood from his mouth.
“Looks unharmed to me, boss.”
Without waiting another second, Zach ran from the room and headed for the elevators.
“Where are you going?” Mary called out as she raced down the hall behind him.
“I’m getting my writer back. Or at least her book.”
Mary grinned at him.
“Good luck, Zach. Just so you know this is why you’re my favorite boss of all time.”
Zach fled the building, his right hand throbbing, and hailed a taxi. Suddenly he realized he wasn’t sure what he was doing.
He gave the driver his address to his own flat. He’d try calling Nora again from there. If she didn’t answer he’d go to her house. And if she wasn’t at her house, well, he’d hunt her down any way he could.
Zach stopped in the lobby of his building and dialed Nora’s number from the phone at the front desk. If she answered he wouldn’t even bother going upstairs.
“Wesley,” Zach said, relieved to hear the boy’s voice. “It’s Zach. I need Nora. Please, is she there?”
“She’s gone, Zach. She was gone by the time I got up this morning. What do you want? You dumped Nora, remember? Want to dump her again?”
Zach sighed, guilt stabbing into his stomach.
“I was wrong about her, Wesley. I’m apologizing to her…again.”
“This time she really shouldn’t let you.”
“Believe me, I know. But please, can you give me any idea where she could be?”
“It’s Nora. She’s probably where you’d least expect.”
Zach hung up and tried to think. He decided to go up to his flat to dig out his copy of her book from under his bed and think it out. If she wasn’t at home she could be anywhere. With a client, at the 8th Circle, on the moon for all he knew.
Where you’d least expect… Zach thought to himself as the lift climbed the twenty-three stories. Those words reminded him of something he’d heard before.
You merely think you know her. It’s one of her best tricks. She flirts, she teases, she confesses everything but reveals nothing. It’s the oldest magician’s trick—smoke and mirrors, misdirection… You are absolutely certain she’s here, Søren had said. Zach slipped his key in the lock of his door and turned the knob. When all the while she’s right over here…
“Hello, Zach.”
It took almost a full ten seconds for Zach to register that Nora stood in his living room. She was wearing a suit and a tie and a smile so defiant he was as nervous as he was relieved.
