For The Love Of You

Craig was light on his feet as he crossed the threshold to the suite reserved for the crew. Since their arrival his team had transformed the lush two-bedroom suite into a functioning production space with a splash of elegance. His spirits soared even higher when he saw that everyone was already up and at it.

Anthony glanced up from the computer screen when Craig walked in. “Hey, man.” He gave him a questioning look.

Craig gave him a thumbs-up and a satisfied grin. “It’s a go.”

Anthony slowly shook his head in amazement. “I want details.”

Craig nodded then focused his attention on the team. “I have some good news. We got the Fontaine mansion for the shoot. So everything is a go. Paul, I need to get with you a bit later to make a few enhancements to the agreement and then get it over to legal for a quick look.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Diane, I want to get some location shots set up and put on the schedule. When are Stacey and Norm getting in?”

“They should be landing as we speak. They took the red-eye from LA. A car is waiting for them at the airport,” Diane said of the unit manager and technical director.

“Good.” Craig checked his watch. “Let’s all meet when Norm and Stacey arrive,” he said. His glance spanned to include everyone. He turned to Anthony, clapped him on the shoulder and with a toss of his head indicated that he wanted to talk out of earshot. He led the way out and across the hall to his room.

Anthony shut the door behind them. “Lemme hear it. How did you get her to change her mind? I’m almost afraid to ask.”

Craig tossed him a withering look from over his shoulder. “Yo, what are you trying to say, man?”

“I’m not trying to say anything. I’m saying you sometimes maneuver women into that horizontal position that magically gets them to do what you want.”

“One time,” he corrected, holding up his index finger as pseudoproof.

“Twice.”

“All right, all right. Twice. But it was mutual. I never have a woman do anything they don’t truly want to do. I’m not that guy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, man. I’m just pulling your chain.” He crossed the carpeted floor to the counter, fixed himself a cup of coffee then took a seat in a club chair by the window. “So, what’s the deal?”

Craig sat on the lounge chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing his feet at the ankles. He linked his fingers across his hard belly. “I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse,” he said in a pretty good imitation of Marlon Brando’s Vito Corleone.

“Yeah, what kind of offer?”

“Well, I was honest...or at least as honest as I can be. I told her exactly how important this film is to me and why. We talked.” His gaze drifted away as an image of Jewel filled his line of sight. A grin curved his mouth.

“She must have said something pretty powerful to put that look on your face.”

Craig blinked, gave a quick shake of his head and returned his attention to Anthony. “I don’t know what it was, to be honest.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. “There’s...something about her. Can’t put my finger on it.” He looked Anthony right in the eyes. “Getting her to agree to let us use her home for the shoot is a major coup, no doubt, but having lunch with her tomorrow is the icing on the cake.” He grinned.

“You dog,” Anthony teased, wagging a finger at him.

“It’s not like that,” Craig said, chuckling. “I swear.”

“Not yet.”

“Look, I asked her to dinner, and she flat-out said no. I bumped it down to lunch with the caveat that if she agreed I would tell her why I haven’t been back for ten years.”

Anthony’s dark eyes widened in surprise. “Say what?”

“She wanted to know...and that was the only thing I could offer to get her to agree to lunch.”

“The offer she couldn’t refuse,” Anthony said.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Let me get this straight. You meet this woman. You want something from her. She tells you no—something you aren’t used to hearing, by the way—and you offer to reveal to her something I only got out of you after years of friendship and a bottle of bourbon? Is that about right?”

“Maybe if you’d had her body, those eyes and that mouth I would have told you sooner,” he joked.

Anthony burst out laughing, sputtering coffee. He grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth then leveled his gaze at his friend. “Hey, it’s cool, whatever you want to do. I’m just saying be clearheaded—that’s all. In another three months, we’ll be back in London for the next film. Long distance has never been your thing.”

Craig pressed his lips together and slowly nodded his head. “Yeah, I know. It’s all good.”

“Now for the practical question, how much more is this going to cost us?”

“Another ten grand.”

“What? Craig, man, we have a budget, remember? You’re adding ten K to the budget and we haven’t even started shooting yet.”

“I got this. Don’t worry.” He stood.

“It’s my job to worry. It’s what I do. I know you have deep pockets, but don’t bust a hole in them.” His cell phone chirped. He pulled it out of his shirt pocket. “It’s Diane. Norm and Stacey just arrived,” he said.

“Cool. Give them an hour to get settled and we’ll all meet over lunch. Have room service bring up whatever everyone wants.”

Anthony pushed up from his seat and set his coffee cup down on the table. He turned to Craig, slung his hands into his pockets and pushed out a breath. “I know you have a lot riding on this project,” he said in a low voice. “I only want to make sure that you make it to the finish line.”

“I hear you, brother.” He gripped Anthony’s upper arm. “I’ve come too far to screw this up, especially over a woman. No worries. Okay?”

Anthony studied him for a moment. “See you at lunch.” He turned and walked out.

Craig faced the window that offered a panorama of the place he’d once called home. He knew that Anthony was only doing his job. When he put on his other hat as first assistant director it was his responsibility to keep everything on point, including keeping an eye on the budget. But Craig also knew that wasn’t Anthony’s main concern. His concern rose out of their decades-long friendship. Anthony knew him, knew the demons that he dealt with—the string of relationships to fight the bouts of depression, the outbursts of anger and the weeks of isolation. The chasm between him and his father was at the center of it all, that and his very publicly failed engagement to international model and up-and-coming film star Anastasia Dumont, the daughter of Alexander Dumont, the London financier. Although the disaster of their engagement had ended three years earlier and it happened across the pond, it still stung. His and Anastasia’s faces and every detail of their relationship—at least what the tabloids could piece together—became cover copy for every pop magazine here and abroad for months. At least until the next personal scandal took center stage.

He’d almost waited by the phone for a call from his father telling him, “I told you so.” Craig wasn’t sure what stung more, the fact that the call never came or that his father didn’t even care enough to say, “I told you so.”

Anthony was right. He had to keep his head on straight and not get distracted by a beautiful woman who clearly had major issues of her own. The last thing he needed was to haul around someone else’s baggage. He’d tell her just enough to tamp down her curiosity, and that was it. He was as good at masking what rested behind his emotional armor as he was a writer and director—and he had the awards to prove it. Whatever he didn’t want Ms. Jewel Fontaine to know she would never know.

* * *

“I’m going to take your father on a stroll around the grounds,” Minerva said as she walked into the sitting room off the veranda.

Jewel placed the newspaper that she was reading down on the table. “I think I’ll go with you. I could use some exercise myself.” She pushed up from the chair.

“I saw a car pull off earlier. Was that the film people?”

Jewel tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth before answering. “Yes. It was Mr. Lawson.”