Chapter Twelve
When Taylor arrived at the Water offices on Monday morning, she found a sixteen-ounce cup of some of the best coffee she’d ever experienced waiting for her on her desk. The dark blue to-go cup came with the logo of a cartoon cat wearing some very loud pajamas. She smiled at just how quickly it brightened her day.
“Courtesy of the newest staff writer,” Scarlett told her from the doorway. She held up a cup of her own. “Why is it so good? Why?”
Taylor took a moment to bask in the amazing sip she’d just taken. “Something to do with the roasting technique. I’ll need to investigate further.”
Scarlett sighed. “We needed this today.”
“Don’t remind me.” She powered up her laptop, ready to tackle all the email that had slipped past her over the weekend.
“Are you ready for it? The table read?” Scarlett asked. It was a big day. The cast and crew would gather for a table read of one of the more controversial scripts they’d put out, and Taylor, for one, wasn’t sure how the new storyline reveal would go over. With Aspen in particular.
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. Would you let Lyric know that I’ll head to the Sister Dale set later this afternoon? Remind her that we have a story meeting so she doesn’t book a manicure or something.” It sounded snarky, but she’d already been stood up for a variety of spa appointments in the middle of the workday and wasn’t about to let it happen again. But first, she anticipated fires on her own set and needed to be present to put them out.
Her fears were not misplaced.
“Wait. What?” Aspen said loudly, glancing up from her script in horror. The cast and creatives dotted the long table, assembled for the read-through. Isabel sat across the table from Taylor, looking on with a steady gaze. She was bound to be nervous. This was her baby. But Taylor had anticipated Aspen’s reaction and had prepped her staff well in advance with a “leave her to me.”
“Lisette is stealing her sister’s fiancé?” Aspen spat out. “Do I have that right? The very couple that you guys have been writing as endgame since last season? She would never do that. She would never break them up. She loves her little sister.”
“So much for America’s Sweetheart,” a male cast member said, with a smile.
Taylor shot him a look. Not helping. Not helping at all.
“I think that’s why it works, honestly,” Isabel said. “We’re exploring a new side to Lisette, one the audience, and maybe even Lisette herself, hasn’t seen. She’s only human.”
Taylor had to give her credit. Not too many fledgling writers would publicly push back against the star of the show.
“You wrote this?” Aspen asked, holding up the script.
Isabel nodded, steady as ever. “I did.”
Aspen turned her focus to Taylor. “And you greenlit her script?”
“Why don’t we finish the read before we move into discussion?” Taylor said professionally. She needed to steer them back on course and avoid a tantrum in front of the very cast Aspen was supposed to lead.
“Because I’m not sure I want to finish.” Aspen looked Taylor straight in the eye and sat back in her chair, arms crossed like a petulant child. The challenge was clear. This wasn’t about the storyline as much as it was Aspen’s need to be universally loved and revered, even via her character, which was unreasonable. It probably didn’t help that Taylor hadn’t answered her texts Saturday night.
Taylor stood and addressed the room. “Let’s take ten, everyone, and meet back here for the rest of the read then.” She watched as the cast and production team exchanged nervous, knowing, and in some cases, amused looks across the table. Aspen, however, stormed immediately to her trailer.
Isabel turned to her, eyes wide. “What do we do?”
“Let me handle it.” She rose from her chair calmly, grabbed a bottle of water from the craft services table, and walked the row of trailers outside until she found Aspen’s. No big deal. No need to draw attention to an already unfortunate situation. People would look to her for cues, and she would be the picture of serenity if it killed her. She knocked softly and smiled at the second AD as she walked past.
“Come in,” Aspen called, sounding as if someone had died. Taylor didn’t let the dramatics faze her. She let herself in and found Aspen sitting on the couch, perusing a magazine, her eyes never leaving the pages. “I’m not okay with this,” she said without looking up.
“I’m gathering.” Taylor took a seat across from her. “Tell me why.”
“Because Lisette is an icon, damn it. She struggles. She has her flaws, but she’s not a man-stealing whore without any loyalty. She has to be the glue at the center of all their lives, or the whole thing doesn’t work.”
“She’s been the morality police for four seasons. Don’t you think it’s time to shake things up?”
“Not at the expense of Lisette,” she said with an aggressive flip of the page. Totally unreasonable.
“We haven’t written the rest of the arc yet, but the goal is a Lisette and Thomas relationship at the expense of her relationship to her family. Think of what a compelling playout that would be for you. You’d slay those scenes.”
“Maybe.” But she could see the spark of interest shoot to life behind Aspen’s stare. She was also fluffing her hair, which meant she was feeling energized.
“Do you trust me?”
Aspen set the magazine down, and her expression dropped to sincere. She had always been good at trading one emotion for another on a dime, especially when there was something to gain. “You know I do. I’ve always trusted you. You’re my Taylor.”
“Then don’t stop now, okay?”
Their eyes met, and those feelings from the past floated to the surface just enough for Taylor to remember how things used to be. They’d laughed together a lot, stolen moments for themselves during downtime on the set. Aspen liked high-risk situations and got off on the adrenaline. Kissing just around the corner from where people were working was a favorite of hers, and she sometimes pushed for more. Yes, life with Aspen had been exciting and unplanned, like a drug you couldn’t get enough of. But that kind of high only lasts for so long, and on the flip side, Aspen was also manipulative, working things out so that she always got her way, playing the victim if necessary. She went out of her way to do nice things for Taylor. Aspen was known to surprise her with elaborate dinners or romantic evenings away, complete with expensive lingerie, Champagne, and a choreographed seduction. It had been nice at first, but then the fact that everything had to be over-the-top and orchestrated started to wear thin. Aspen never went small, or simple, or everyday, which proved exhausting. Sometimes it would have been nice to just sit on the couch and talk or read books together. With Aspen, those things weren’t really an option.
She also learned that for every nice thing Aspen planned for them, Taylor was expected to reciprocate quadruple-fold or never be forgiven. The relationship had taken its toll on Taylor, to say the least, and that hadn’t even touched on Aspen’s fiery temper tantrums. No dish was safe when Aspen’s ire rose to the surface, another example of her overly theatrical tendencies. In the end, Taylor had to ask herself what kind of life she wanted and whether she’d be okay replacing her dishes for many years to come. The answer had come easily. Aspen’s acceptance had not.
“You really think this is good for the show?” Aspen asked.
Taylor nodded. “I do. Can we get back to the table read?”
“One question first. Where were you Saturday?” She fluttered her eyelashes and set the magazine down. “You avoided me all day, and you know how much that hurts my feelings. I waited to hear from you. Canceled any and all plans, just in case I did, because that’s how much I care.”
Taylor closed her eyes. “We’re not together anymore, Aspen.”
“I know that,” she said, placing a hand on Taylor’s knee and giving it a tiny shake. “We’re not together right now.”
“Not just right now, though. At all. We’re colleagues.”
Aspen shook her head, but a slight smile still played. “If you say so.”
“Do you think we can get back to work?”
“We can just as soon as you tell me where you were Saturday night. I’m just curious as to what had you so preoccupied.” It was a bargaining chip, which was often how Aspen worked: everything accounted for on a scorecard that always added up to a win for her and loss for whoever else had the misfortune of playing. In this case, there were hundreds of people held up from doing their jobs until Taylor played the silly game.
“I hung out on Venice Beach with friends.”
Aspen eyed her. “You don’t go to the beach. Especially all the way out in Venice.”
“I did Saturday. What’s the big deal? Let’s just finish the read-through. That’s all I’m asking. If you’re still unhappy with the direction of the episode, we can set up a meeting.”
Aspen played with a strand of her own hair and lowered her voice, purring the way she did when she was trying for sexy. “Did you wear a swimsuit? The white two-piece is my absolute favorite.” A year ago, it would have worked like a charm. Today, not so much. “Remember that time in the pool when it had to come off?”
“Aspen.”
“It was begging to.” They locked eyes and Aspen straightened, offering a sigh. “Fair enough. You don’t have to tell me the color.”
“You’ll read?”
She smiled warily. “I’ll read.”
Ten minutes later they were back around the table. The episode read even better out loud than it had on the page. Isabel jotted notes, glancing up occasionally with a whisper of a smile on her lips. Taylor watched the faces of the team as they heard the episode for the first time. Folks were sitting up tall in their seats and turning pages eagerly. That was a positive sign. Whatever fear she still carried dissipated as she watched the journey play out on their faces. By the end of the read-through, the room clapped heartily.
People shook their heads. She heard a few “wows,” a few “damns,” and even a murmured “that was hot.”
“Man,” Luke said, and turned to Aspen. “This is news to me. Did you know they were putting us together?”
Aspen smiled demurely, seemingly much happier with the script after the reaction it had just pulled. “I had a sneaking suspicion.”
Lies.
All great big lies.
But if Aspen needed to seem in control, Taylor was more than happy to let her. She chatted briefly with the line producer and the director of the episode before glancing around the room for Isabel, who had mysteriously disappeared. She found her sitting at her desk surrounded by a virtual barricade of snack food. The rest of the writers were either not back from the read-through or they’d headed off to lunch, which would not have been uncommon.
“What are you doing?” Taylor asked lightly.
“Chili Cheese Fritos. Mainlining them. Desperate times. Have to,” she said, between bites. Her crisp blue eyes were wide as she crunched. Too wide. Beneath the desk, her foot bounced like a panicked little basketball.
“You’re freaking out about the episode, aren’t you?”
Isabel nodded about eight times. “No.”
“It’s the first time you’ve had a script make it to air. It makes sense that you’d be on edge.”
Isabel reached for an Oreo and bit into it heartily. “I’m fine. Not on edge. Just eating lots of junk food. Oreo?” She chomped another one.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Taylor took an Oreo and slid the lid off with ease.
“Oh, perfect. You even eat Oreos gracefully. I bet you’ve never been freaked out a day in your life. And why would you be? You’re fucking Taylor Andrews. I’m fucking Isabel from nowhere. And I’m swearing at my boss.”
Taylor had to laugh. “First of all, you’re not Isabel from nowhere. You’re from Keene, and that’s definitely somewhere. And you should have seen me on my first job. It was that preteen kids’ show, Out of Touch. I threw up three times the week we shot my first script, which happened to deal, quite dramatically, with one of the characters getting the flu and missing his big basketball game.”
Isabel smiled.
“So, as you can imagine, it was too important to screw up. I didn’t sleep that week at all. I walked around a pale shade of green, trying desperately to look like I knew what I was doing.”
Isabel slowly lowered a Twizzler en route to her mouth. “Did not.” Then a pause and a long stare. “You did? You?”
“Yep. Let me show you something.” She took Isabel by the shoulders and led her to a mirror on the far wall. “What do you see?”
“An amateur with Frito crumbs on her face.”
Taylor closed her eyes and smiled at the candor. “Let me tell you what I see. A very capable, very sharp, very intelligent writer who has blown everyone away in the two months she’s been on staff.”
Isabel scoffed. “Strong language.”
Pessimism was her go-to, Taylor was finding. “Well, I didn’t say ‘fucking,’ but it does the trick.” That earned her a smile through the mirror. She gave Isabel’s shoulders a squeeze and was surprised when Isabel turned in her arms and hugged her. She blinked several times at her body’s response to the unexpected contact, as little pinpricks of pleasure moved through her. She returned the embrace, and for just a second or two, allowed herself the luxury of getting lost in it without question, doubt, or overanalysis. The warmth from Isabel’s body comforted her, the round swells of her breasts excited her, and the solidity of her arms grounded her. So many things all at once. And then, just like that, it was over.
Who was this girl?
This was the second time she’d slayed Taylor with just an embrace. She imagined the effect of more and nearly had to sit down. How did Isabel come with this kind of power?
“Thank you,” Isabel said, and smiled. “For what you said. I needed that boost.”
Taylor nodded, now feeling like the off-kilter one. “I better head back to Sister Dale. Make sure Lyric hasn’t burned the place down. Entirely possible.”
“Taylor?” The room was quiet except for the slightest buzz from the fluorescents overhead. Isabel’s voice echoed delicately.
She turned back. “Yep?”
“Will I see you soon?” God, the vulnerability in Isabel’s voice hit her right in the stomach.
“Do you want to?”
Isabel nodded, her eyes uncharacteristically soft. Her guard was down.
“Then you will.”
*****
Three days later, Isabel sat in a director’s chair off to the side of set, watching as Greg Beckett directed her episode. As in, the actual episode she wrote, the one that would appear on network television. Not the made-up-land in her head where things like this usually happened. Trippy was an understatement.
“All right, and we’re going again,” he called to the set after a brief conference with the actors. In this case, Aspen and Luke, who took their beginning positions on the set of the cabin.
And they were off!
Isabel sat forward, taking in the fact that the characters she’d known for years were now speaking her words. She stayed out of the way as Taylor had instructed but was on hand to consult and advocate for her script as needed. It was hard not to jump in each step of the way and offer her opinion; she had so many. But it wasn’t her place, and she gave Greg room to work. Luckily, they seemed to be on the same page creatively, and Greg’s vision only enhanced her dialogue.
“Cut,” Greg yelled, after a particularly saucy take, where Lisette and Thomas were practically breathing the same air, yet not actually touching. She had to hand it to Aspen—the woman was on fire and bringing the scene to life with more quiet passion than even Isabel had first imagined. And then there was the fact that Aspen was stunning—wide-eyed, with gorgeous thick dark hair and a sexy voice, and that didn’t even touch the way she moved—full of grace and confidence, all the things Isabel lacked. But Aspen’s past with Taylor was never far from Isabel’s mind. In fact, given the incessant text messaging the other night, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it wasn’t as over as Taylor seemed to think.
Once they called a five, Isabel made a grab for a bottle of water, finding herself standing alongside Aspen at the craft services table. She wore a silk white robe, her wardrobe for the scene, and began making herself what looked to be a lettuce sandwich.
“You should be quite proud of yourself,” Aspen said, eying her.
Isabel glanced behind her. “Oh, sorry. Me?”
“You.” Aspen relaxed into a dazzling grin. “For the episode. I will admit to being a skeptic at first. You saw my reaction at the table read. How awful of me! But honestly, Isabel, it’s pulling in some big reactions.” She glanced around at the various members of the crew.
“I hope so. Just trying to tell a good story.” She looked up tentatively at Aspen, who was a good four inches taller than she was, and, wow, this woman was pretty, even more so when she flashed that catlike smile.
“You’re talented. You should know that,” Aspen said. And then there was that charm. Even with all she knew about Aspen from Taylor, she still felt somehow honored that Aspen was paying attention to her. What the hell was that about? When Aspen focused on her, it felt like bathing in a warm light. An impressive skill.
“Thank you,” Isabel said, feeling the blush arrive, right on cue. “That’s really nice of you to say.”
Aspen reached across Isabel for a spoon to stir her tea. “So, what’s your story, Ms. Chase?”
Oh, okay. She hadn’t expected more questions, but that was all right. “My story? Oh. Well, um, I don’t really have a good one. From the northeast. New Hampshire, specifically. A recent transfer. I came to LA for the job.”
“How long have you been writing?”
“For as long as I can remember. Shorts, features, spec scripts for television, anything really. Been trying to get my foot in the door for quite a while now.”
“So this is your very first show?” Aspen asked as if it were the most adorable thing in the world.
Isabel nodded, unsure if admitting that was to her benefit. Aspen was a hard one to predict, she was finding.
“That is so exciting,” Aspen enthused. “How did we get so lucky?”
“Good timing. That’s all. I think I might be the lucky one. Taylor was nice enough to give me a shot.”
“She’s our rock, Taylor,” Aspen said reverently. “We’re all so thrilled to be working for a brilliant visionary like her. I know I am. And you’re all settled?”
“Yep, subletting a place in Venice Beach and learning the crazy tricks to maneuver LA traffic.”
Aspen stopped stirring her tea and instead stared at Isabel as if she’d said the most remarkable thing. “Venice Beach, did you say?”
“Right. Yeah, a small apartment complex not far from the water. I’m subletting from another writer.”
“How exciting!” she exclaimed, once again breaking into animation. “And do you make it to the beach much?” She could apparently get all glowy and radiant in the span of five seconds.
“Yeah, in fact, a few of us hung out there this weekend. It’s a really cool place. Lots to do.”
“My goodness, that sounds like a blast. Taylor mentioned how much fun she had.”
“Did she?” Isabel asked, happy to hear it. She was surprised to learn that Taylor had gotten around to returning those messages from Aspen, but then she didn’t have their relationship all that figured out. “I’m glad. I had fun, too.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I think we’re about to go again.” She moved past Isabel to the set, where she stepped into Luke’s space, ready to pick up from the spot they’d left off. As Isabel watched them shoot the scene, she couldn’t quite shake the odd exchange with Aspen. It did, however, serve as a reminder that Aspen was a force.
One she didn’t want to go up against if she could help it.
Note to self.