Smooth Operator Read online

  I walked to my car, shielding my eyes from the sunlight that I hadn't been in for half a month, and started up the engine. My low fuel light blinked insistently as I pulled out of the driveway, so I stopped to text Kat that I'd be a couple of minutes late. My usual gas station was only a few blocks away from the restaurant. It wasn’t too big of a detour, thankfully, but the gas station had the cheapest gas in town and was usually pretty crowded for that reason.

  I pulled into the first empty pump when I got there, thanking my lucky stars that the station wasn't as crowded as it typically is. There was a sign taped to the pump announcing that the credit card reader wasn't working and to go inside to pay. I peeked around at the other pumps, too hungry to deal with going inside to pay. The same sign was taped onto all of them. Damn. No way of getting out of it.

  A bell above the door chimed when I entered, letting the clerk know someone was entering the small convenience store. I started walking to the front counter to pay for my gas, but I froze at the sight of a beautiful couple to my right.

  Fiona and Dave were standing with their backs to me, choosing sodas from the glass-doored refrigerator, holding hands and snuggling with each other as if selecting a soda together were the height of romance. I averted my eyes and bee-lined for the register, hoping to be in and out so quickly that they wouldn't notice I was there. I nodded to the girl behind the counter as I quietly named my pump number. She typed something into her register and looked pointedly at the card reader while I side-eyed Fiona and Dave, praying they hadn't seen me yet. I slid my card into the chip reader and tapped my fingers on the counter while I waited for the confirmation.

  "Your card's declined," the bored cashier announced so loudly that I'm shocked people in Delaware didn't hear the announcement. She stared at me expectantly, smacking her gum.

  "That's not possible," I whispered. "I just deposited a huge paycheck into my account. Believe me, I have plenty of money. Can you try again?"

  She rolled her eyes and swiped my card on her side of the register. She shook her head. "Not working."

  "That can't be right," I whispered.

  Her expression told me she didn't believe me or didn't care very much. "Do you have a different method of payment or do I have to cancel your order?"

  "Olivia?" Fiona's soft, feminine voice wafted to me from behind my left shoulder. I sighed and closed my eyes. Of course this was happening to me.

  I counted to ten, then turned around with a bright smile. "Fiona! Dave! Imagine seeing you here! What a crazy coincidence," I simpered. Please go away.

  "Do you need help paying for your gas? I know it must be hard to make ends meet, being a struggling writer and all," Fiona's kind face was etched with concern. I wanted to punch it.

  "I'm not a struggling writer. I have a day job," I said.

  "I know you do, sweetheart," Fiona said sympathetically. Sweetheart? I'm eight years older than her. Dave still hadn't greeted me, just stood there with his eyes downcast, holding Fiona's hand. Coward. I glared at him, then looked back to Fiona.

  "I have money. And a job. I have cash," I said.

  "Can I have it then?" the cashier asked loudly, tapping her fingers on the counter. I handed the cash over. "Finally."

  "I have money," I repeated. "In fact, my card isn't actually declined. It's probably just an issue with the chip reader."

  "Yeah, that's it," the cashier piped in with an eye roll. I glared at her, silently letting her know that she was not contributing to this conversation meaningfully.

  Fiona's eyebrows furrowed. "You're probably right," she said kindly. She didn't actually believe me though. Bitch.

  I decided to screw being polite and opt for this interaction to be over as soon as possible so that I could immediately get around to banging my head on a desk every time I remembered it, then wanting to crawl into a hole and die.

  "Okay, well, it's been great seeing you guys," I lied, swiping my change into my purse. "Got to go now, bye!"

  Fiona extended her hand for a handshake, and her obnoxiously large diamond ring glittered in the fluorescent lighting. "I'm so glad to see you doing so well. I wasn't sure how you'd be holding up after, you know, everything."

  I looked down at her phony hand but didn't take it. She kept it there, though, for an uncomfortably long time, hanging between the two of us, a silent power struggle that both of us were dying to win. Or maybe that was just me. Fiona was too perfect to engage in petty competition. Her smile faltered, and she dropped her hand to her side. Victory!

  "Got to go," I said again, hurrying out of the gas station. Why did it feel a million times worse that Fiona was quite possibly the sweetest person on the planet? Couldn't she do me a favor and be the bitch I needed her to be?

  I pumped my gas as quickly as humanly possible, keeping my head down the whole time so that I wouldn't have to interact with the happy couple when they left the store. No doubt they'd be lovingly holding hands and feeling bad for poor starving artist Olivia who could barely afford to pay for her gas and never paid her bills on time even though she had a regular job.

  I got back into my car and banged my head against the steering wheel a couple of times before driving away. Why couldn't I have said something that made me seem fascinating and cool? Why couldn't I have mentioned something like, oh, I don't know, the fact that I have a movie deal? "Actually, Fiona, I'm technically a millionaire now. I just finished the screenplay for my first movie, and I'm going to Hollywood to hobnob with very important, very rich people. No big deal," or "Actually, I have been doing very constructive things with my life since Dave left me for you. I certainly have never spent hours staring at your perfectly tanned and exquisitely coiffed self on Facebook while feeling sorry for myself." You know, something awesome like that. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, though.

  I pulled into the parking lot of Blue Crab Seafood five minutes later, still berating myself for not handling that interaction better. I hate that almost a year later, the pain of Dave's betrayal still stung, still threw me off my guard entirely and brought back all the anger and the hurt like it had happened yesterday. I shook my head, trying desperately to not sink into the earth and die of mortification before I even got into the building.

  Kat was waiting for me at the host stand when I walked into the restaurant. She took one look at my face and pulled me into her arms. "You look like shit, Liv," she said into my shoulder lovingly. "Is it because you've been without sunlight and human contact for two weeks or is it something else bothering you?"

  "Both, probably," I said. "Something awful did happen though. I don't know if you'll laugh or cry. I'll tell you about it at the table." I turned to the hostess. "Table for two, please."

  The overly chipper hostess smiled at me brightly and nodded, typing something into her little computer. "It’ll just be a forty-five-minute wait."

  "Just forty-five minutes?" Hunger pangs now compounded my shitty day, and I knew it was a matter of time before I hulked out from anger and lack of nourishment. I could not wait forty-five minutes to get food into my stomach.

  "You could also sit at our full-service bar for a faster, but less romantic, dining experience. It's first come, first served," the hostess offered helpfully.

  Huh? "We're not-" I said, but Kat interrupted me.

  "Well, I guess we're going to have to forgo the romance tonight," Kat said sadly, grabbing me by the hand and leading me to the bar. She picked out two empty stools next to each other at the end of the bar. "What's eating you and what is this secret project that you've been working on for the past couple of weeks?"

  I settled into my stool and took the menu that the bartender offered us. "I'll tell you the bad news first. I just ran into Dave and Fiona at the gas station before I got here." The bartender placed some coasters on the counter in front of us, and we both ordered a beer. When she came back with the beers, I stopped her before she could leave again without taking my food order. "Can we have crab dip? Oh, and some nachos. And a Caprese salad? And- hm
. No, that will be all for our appetizers. I'll let you know when I'm ready to order my meal. Thanks so much."

  The bartender nodded and walked away while Kat stared at me, mouth slightly agape. "Did you not eat while you were in your cave?"

  "I'm hungry, okay?" I shrugged. "Anyway, I just ran into Dave and Fiona at the gas station. Of course they look perfectly happy together. She has this giant sparkling ring on her finger. It's gauche, really. Probably a blood diamond. Her hair and makeup were perfect even though they were just going to the gas station to buy sodas."

  "Maybe they were stopping at the gas station on their way to somewhere nice," Kat suggested. At my scathing look, she added supportively, "But she's a bitch that we hate. Did you snub them in a cool way and feel awesome afterward? I'd kill for a chance to put them in their place."

  "Nope. They witnessed my card getting declined at the counter and offered to pay for my gas," I sulked.

  "Oh god," Kat cringed. "That's rough. Why did your card get declined?"

  "The bank probably froze my account because they considered it suspicious activity when I deposited the check," I said.

  "Lame," Kat commiserated.

  I nodded, wallowing a little bit. I brightened up when our nachos arrived, though, followed shortly after by the crab dip and the Caprese salad. "In other news, I have incredibly good news to share."

  "Does it relate to the mystery project you've been working on while ignoring the health of our friendship?" Kat asked through a mouthful of nachos. I nodded. She swallowed, then asked, "Did you finally finish the last book in the Pirate Duke series?"

  "It is related to Pirate Duke, but it isn't that I finished the last book. I was writing a screenplay for Smooth Operator," I said.

  Kat furrowed her eyebrows as she dug through the nachos, searching for a cheesy one. "A screenplay? Why?"

  "I need you not to freak out," I warned.

  "Okay. Freak out mode under control," Kat said seriously.

  "I got a call the other day from Doug Wiseman." At Kat's blank look, I nodded. "I didn't know who he was either. Apparently, his wife is a huge fan of Rafe and Emmeline."

  "I'm not getting the freak out. Lots of people are fans of your work. You're a genius."

  "You're sweet. Anyway, Doug is a movie producer. He has offered to make Smooth Operator into a movie, and if the movie does well, they're thinking of doing the whole series."

  Kat slapped her hand over her mouth. "Holy shit, my girl's going to be famous. Liv, this is amazing! Congratulations!"

  "I doubt I'm going to be famous," I said, hushing her. I looked around the bar to make sure no one had heard Kat's outburst. "And keep it down, will you? I don't want the whole town to know yet."

  Our hometown of Bettisville, Maryland was annoyingly small, and in small towns, gossip ran rampant. It had been awful back when Dave and I had been together for more than three years without getting married, and it had been worse when Dave had left me for Fiona after seven years (I still cringed when I remembered overhearing my high school math teacher telling my middle school English teacher "Maybe she shouldn't have let him taste the milk without buying the cow"). Even though this news was good, it would be bad when word got out that my book was getting the Hollywood treatment. Good news or bad news, gossip could be vicious and twist even the most innocuous things into something malicious.

  "Don't be so modest," Kat said. She had never been on the receiving end of whispers and stares, so she was more naive about the whole thing. "This is huge news, and it's a good thing. People are going to be happy for you. Just remember not to forget the little people you grew up with when you're rich and famous."

  "Speaking of rich, my card got declined, so you're getting dinner tonight. But I promise to take you to a huge, fancy dinner when my big paycheck goes through." I smiled bracingly at Kat. "And I would never forget you. This town, maybe. But not my best friend of twenty years."

  "No need to butter me up, I'm already picking up the tab," Kat said. "And I'm picking a super fancy restaurant for that dinner. One with coat check. And bowls of water that you dip your hands into before your meal."

  I laughed. "Okay." I glanced at my phone, checking for an email back from Doug. Nothing. I opened the email app and realized I wasn't logged in. That explains it. I tried to log in but kept getting denied. I kept my password on a sticky note taped to my computer because I could never remember the overly long and secure code. At this moment, I regretted not making my password ABC123.

  Disappointed, I put my phone back in my purse and sat back on my stool. I was starting to get full now, and I eyed the massive amount of food we'd already scarfed down. "I think I'm going to have to pass on dinner. This was a lot of food."

  "Ya think?" Kat said. "So, do you know who's going to play Rafe in the movie? Is it Channing Tatum? Say it's Channing Tatum. Or that other guy, what's his name? Tom Hardy!"

  "I have no idea. Doug only called two weeks ago, and there's barely a script. I doubt casting has been done already. There's a big chance my script isn't even the one they'll use." I signaled to the bartender that we wanted our check and turned back to Kat.

  "Why on earth wouldn't they use your script?" Kat asked, bewildered. "You're the author of the Pirate Duke book series. Why wouldn't you be the writer of the movie series, too?"

  "I don't know. Maybe it's just a Hollywood thing." I watched as Kat slid some money to the bartender, then pulled my coat back on.

  "Well, whatever, at least you'll be so rich you won't care who writes what. I can't wait to see what Channing does with the Rafe character." Kat's voice was dreamy. I chuckled as we both slid off our stools. "How much money are you making, anyway?" Kat asked as we walked out of the restaurant.

  I told her the number, and her jaw dropped. "Holy crap. And you just made me pay for dinner? Olivia, you can quit your shitty job with that kind of money. That's fuck you money. You have to start buying me pretty things now."

  I laughed again. "That's the goal. The job quitting, not the buying you pretty things. You'd have to put out for that."

  "I'm willing to consider it," Kat said with a straight face. "Okay, this is amazing. We have to go for drinks this weekend!"

  "Of course," I said, hugging her goodbye.

  Kat got into her car and drove away, waving at me as she left. By the time I got home, I was practically crawling out of my skin in eagerness to log into my email account. I threw my keys into the dish on the entryway table, slamming the door shut behind me, and rushed to my computer to type the password in.

  My heart jumped out of my chest at the sight of a blinking notification in my inbox. Doug had finally answered! I clicked it eagerly and looked over the short email, my heart sinking with every word I read.

  "Sorry, sweetheart, we're going with the other screenwriter. Have a great day!"

  That's it. No explanation, no header or footer, nothing. Rage bubbled in me. Doug hadn't even read my screenplay. There was no way he could have in that short amount of time. What he'd done was placate me while he ensured that I signed the legally-binding contract.

  This whole making a movie thing was going to be a lot less fun than I'd imagined.

  Chapter Three

  Two Months Later

  I'd spent the past couple of months doing everything I could to get over the sting of not writing the movie version of my book. I moped around a bit, ran a lot of miles, drank a lot of wine, and sat around scratching my head over the finale of Pirate Duke. Honestly? The money helped with the sting. I'd like to say that money can't buy happiness, but it bought me things that made me happy and afforded me with opportunities I wouldn't have had without money.

  I had put in my two weeks' notice to my day job as soon as my big check cleared. My boss at the day job was a dickhead who'd tried to get me to sleep with him on various occasions, despite his very perceptive wife being our office receptionist. It had been very satisfying to slap the two weeks' notice on his desk, smile into his shocked face, and waltz out of his
office without a care in the world. Since that glorious day, I'd been working on various other books of mine, but I kept trying to go back to the final book in the Pirate Duke series. I was stumped. I didn't know how to end their story. Nothing that I wrote sounded right. A small part of me felt like I had lost my mojo, but a more significant part of me knew I couldn't finish the book because I wasn't ready to let the characters go.

  Today was different, though. I wasn't going to do any writing today. Today, I was packing clothes into my duffel bag while Kat lounged on my bed, playing on her phone. Doug Wiseman had called the other day to tell me that auditions were finished and he generously invited me to meet the newly formed cast of Smooth Operator. Despite my bitterness about the screenplay switcheroo, I'd accepted his offer and booked a flight to California immediately. I'd never been to the West Coast before. In fact, I'd never been west of the Mississippi River. I was excited to see the lights and the glamour of the Golden State.

  Kat was flying out with me as my guest, and she was equally as excited as me. We were spending the weekend in an inexpensive hotel, the Hotel Monaco, which I understood to be very chic. The online reviews weren't glowing, but the pictures that the hotel posted online were very flattering. We were going to use all of our spare time sightseeing when we weren't hobnobbing with big-name actors. Kat was still holding out hope that Channing Tatum had been cast as Rafe, even though I'd told her on multiple occasions that he is wildly out of our price range. She couldn't be convinced, though, so I'd stopped correcting her and let her have the fantasy. No need to burst her happy little bubble. Not until the movie came out, at least.

  "What time does our flight leave?" Kat asked, idly playing with her phone as I packed.

  "In about four hours," I said, checking my watch. "I'll call a taxi in a bit to take us to the airport. I just need a few more things. I don't want to have to buy anything when we get there because I forgot it at home."