CHAPTER SEVEN
The three of them—Marie, Joe, and Curtis—didn’t have a lot to say in the car, but once at the theater, Joe laid it all out.
“My parents are in total denial about my life,” he said, clearly aggrieved. “And they adore the monster over there.”
Marie smirked. “That’s Ms. Monster to you.”
“We dated in high school—if you can picture that without barfing—”
She sighed. “Lord knows I can’t.”
“And my parents were pretty annoyed when I broke up with her—”
“Ennhh! Thank you for playing, but the correct response is, when she broke up with me.”
He shot an irritated glance at her. “When we came to a mutual parting of the ways, and I came out of the closet.”
“Lunged out, is more like it. Sprinted. You could have thought about my rep, you know. How do you think it looked to people when you slept with me, then publicly stated—more than once—that you prefer men? The cheerleaders made fun of me for weeks.”
“Oh, fuck the cheerleaders,” Joe snapped. Then, to Curtis: “Anyway. They won’t see that we’re just friends.”
Marie nodded. “Only friends.”
“That there’s no spark there.”
“We’re in a spark-free zone,” she declared.
“And the thought of us ever getting back together is just extremely very stupid.”
“An impossibility of nature.” Somehow, this wasn’t as much fun as it had been a few seconds ago. “Never happen.”
“But they refuse to see it,” he continued to an attentive Curtis. “Take tonight—perfectly innocent, right? Mar and I are going to see the new Star Trek—”
“A truly enduring franchise,” she agreed.
“—because going to the movies together is this totally innocent thing that we’ve done forever. And Mom and Dad had to paint it like some big romantic evening.”
“When it’s not big,” she added. “And certainly not romantic.”
“Which is where I come in.” Curtis didn’t phrase it as a question, but he did raise his eyebrows.
“Eeeee...yeah,” Joe said reluctantly. “And I’m sorry I put you on display like that.”
“They had to know something was up,” Marie pointed out. “You haven’t been back to see them for weeks.” Although she and Joe had moved to the Twin Cities right out of college, Joe’s family home was in Eagan, only twenty minutes away. “But smacking them in the face with it is the only way to make them see. Or, at least, makes it harder for them to stay in denial. And I did warn you it was going to be weird with a dash of awkward.”
“Yes, but I assumed it was because of your terrible friend.”
“Ha! You said I was terrible?” At Joe’s shrug, she turned to Curtis. “If anything, he undersold it.”
“I did,” Joe said, nodding.
Curt eyed them both for a few seconds, then gave up and started laughing. Huh. This guy might be a keeper.
Marie munched popcorn while Joe and Curtis talked, and realized she was as content as she could be while the man she loved was flirting with another man. Maybe it was the locale. She adored going to the movies.
The lights went down and she sat up straight. The familiar, delightful green “this preview has been approved for all audiences” logo came up; then the first preview unfolded. On the screen, Marie could see a beautiful woman dressed in 18th century clothing. The movie announcer’s dulcet baritone boomed through the speakers.
“She was a woman of noble blood. Untouched...innocent...with a terrible secret.”
On screen, the woman of noble blood was standing on a beach gazing out to sea, looking pensive. The scene shifted to a handsome, bearded man, shirtless and standing behind the wheel of a ship. A wave broke over the bow, drenching him. He threw his head back and laughed at the weather.
“He was a rogue,” the announcer intoned, “the bastard son of royalty...and her only hope.”
Marie could feel the blood draining from her face. This was absolutely not happening. Absolutely not. No.
“From the author of Passion’s Sweet Caress and Flaming Surrender comes the movie based on the national best seller...”
She opened her mouth in a yowl. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaa—” She dropped her box of popcorn and jabbed an elbow into Joe’s side. Joe was staring at the screen, his mouth open in delight.
“Maybe it’s not your book.”
“—aaaaaaaaggggggggggghhhhh—”
“For God’s sakes, Marie. Breathe or you’re going to pass out on this disgusting floor.”
“The breathtaking saga of Shyla and Marcus, brought to the big screen. Their passion...”
Onscreen, Shyla belted Marcus across the mouth. “Beast!”
“Their pleasure...”
The scene shifted, and now Shyla looked vaguely ecstatic. By contrast, Marie thought she might vomit soon. This wasn’t happening.
It wasn’t.
It wasn’t.
Okay, it was. She’d known the movie was going into production. It had been her decision to sell the film rights, after all. Her reasoning had been simple: it was a bad book (one of many), so what did she care if they made a bad movie out of it?
Only she did care.
“The only thing more unthinkable than being together...was being torn apart.”
“You call that unthinkable?” Marie shrieked at the screen. “This can’t be happening. I thought I was safe here!”
“Take me, Marcus,” Shyla breathed, fumbling with one of the several hundred buttons on her dress. “Take me as only you can...make me your wanton woman.”
“Shut up, idiot!” There were several shushers around her, but Marie ignored them all. “Your name used to be Ramona! You were an inventor! And you never wore dresses that low cut in any of my manuscripts!”
“Love’s Eternal Caress...experience it at a theater this fall.”
“Not fucking likely.” She’d slumped further and further back as the reality of the trailer hit, but now she sat up straight, her despair gone and replaced with a new resolution. “That’s it. I’m taking steps. This can’t be allowed.”
Joe looked thoughtful, his arm up to the elbow in his popcorn bucket. Curtis was eyeing her over Joe’s shoulder. “Guess you shouldn’t have let your agent sell the movie rights, huh?”
“Just because I sold the movie rights doesn’t mean they actually had to make a movie out of it!”
“It does, actually,” Curtis pointed out.
“You sound just like Anne Rice, bitching when Tom Cruise got cast as Lestat. You couldn’t cash the check fast enough, if I remember correctly.”
“You’re so lucky!” Curtis gasped, staring at her, dazzled.
She stood. “I’ve been a victim long enough. Persecuted wherever I go. And I’m not going to whine quietly about it anymore.”
“When did you ever whine quietly? When did you do anything qui—“
“Shut up.” She shook a fist at the screen, ignoring the shushes around her. “As God is my witness...as God is my witness! If I have to lie, cheat, steal, or kill...I’ll never write romance novels again!”
The music from the preview swelled around her. A box of Sno Caps hit her in the back of the head. She barely felt it. They could throw bricks, she didn’t care. She was done. Mighty would be her wrath. Or something.