“When I signed on for future movies, I asked that the legal team add the clause about Clover Daly not being cast in upcoming sequels.”
He gives me a look that borders on disinterest, and I squeeze my hands. Dick.
“And what’s the problem? I was under the impression that they acquiesced to your little clause.” Deacon overly enunciates each word, and I know I’m fighting a losing battle when it comes to not blowing up at him.
“The legal team has been more than accommodating. But I would like to revisit the contract and strike that clause.”
Deacon laughs. “Strike it? The very thing you requested was put in?”
“I understand it’s a strange request, but–”
“Strange? No, Roman, it’s stupid.”
I bristle, because he’s not wrong. “Regardless of what you want to call it, it was a bad decision for me to put it in in the first place, and I’d like to fix it.”
Deacon runs his eyes across me from top to bottom, as if he’s trying to see anything in me aside from his disappointment.
“Why?” he asks.
I was dreading this question. Not wanting to let him know how much Clover has grown to mean to me, I stick with something else that’s true.
“She’s good. She’s better than good. It would be a mistake not to have her back on future films.”
Deacon pauses, picking up the half-burned cigar and taking a big puff. The smoke blows directly in my face, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me wave it away.
“That’s not what I hear, after yesterday’s mishap.”
I grit my teeth. “That was an accident, don’t hold it against her.”
“That accident cost us money over the shooting days we’ve lost.”
My hands shake with anger, but Deacon doesn’t give me a chance to respond yet.
“So I’m inclined to think you were onto something when you wanted her removed from future films.”
My stomach drops.No. “What do you need from me to ensure that clause gets scrubbed?” Gritting the words out, I run a hand through my hair. My fingers are full of nervous energy, and I could use a cigarette right now. Anything to help manage how I’m feeling.
“You really want her on the next film?” Deacon muses before taking another long pull from the cigar, puffing out a smoke ring.
“What do you need?” I repeat.
Deacon smiles. He knows he’s got me.
“I don’t know that you have anything to give, frankly. But I’ll see to it that it’s done.” With a sigh, he stubs the cigar out and drops his legs down from the desk.
I know better than to get my hopes up, but relief washes through me anyway because I so badly want to see this righted.
Deacon walks over to me and claps me on the back aggressively. “You owe me a favor,” is all he says before leaving me to stew in cigar smoke and apprehension.
Chapter Fifty-Five
CLOVER
Jill kneads the dough as if it personally offended her. I don’t know enough about baking to tell whether or not it has, but I have a suspicion the aggressive handling has more to do with the trip she’s come back from.
“It’s the perfect location,” she forcefully slams the ball of dough onto the kitchen counter. “The mountains in the background are stunning.”Slam. “The fields are gorgeous.”Slam. “Picturesque.” She shoves her fist into the dough to beat it up from the inside as well.
“I’m sensing there’s a but?” I ask.
