“It’s not a love story anymore. It’s a war story.” Zarzour reached toward Chris, begging a cigarette from him. “You got anything to drink around here?”
“Water. Soda.” Chris tossed Zarzour his pack of cigarettes, then got up to go to the kitchen. “I’m off alcohol for a while.” He launched a passing glance at Jeremiah. “Why do you think I smoke?”
“I’ll take a soda. Diet.” Zarzour lit the cigarette, exhaling smoke into the pristine room. “So, you can make the cuts? Good.”
“But it is a love story.” Jesse retrieved the script from Jeremiah. “Hamilton and Esther must be together in the end.” That was the point. His grandfather’s love story. Esther’s. And yes, Loxley’s. It meant closure for Jesse, and perhaps some mystical closure for his long-gone ancestor.
“We like the idea of Esther becoming a war hero,” Zarzour said. “She goes to the battlefield to find Hamilton, and when he gets killed, she takes up his musket for him. Maybe she fires the cannon. A Molly Pitcher type. That happened during the RevolutionaryWar, right? Women stepped up. Then”—Zarzour moved to the edge of his seat—“we grab the viewer by the throat. Esther weeps over her dying fiancé, she fires the cannon, taking out a passel of redcoats, tears streaming down her face. The audience is enraptured, cheering. Just when victory is at hand, Esther takes a bullet right to the heart. Drops dead on the battlefield, a hero.”
“No,” Chloe shouted, leaping into the middle of the room. “No, no, no!”
“It’s perfect! Why not?” Zarzour inhaled a long, arrogant drag from his cigarette, polluting the house with more than smoke. “Esther dies a heroine’s death. A patriot. A freedom fighter. People write poems and songs about her. She’s an icon in American history. It’s pure movie magic.”
“She cannot die, Greg.” Chloe shivered. “She lives. She lives! I refuse to die. I will not die.”
“Chloe, what’s the big deal? If she dies, we cut an additional four minutes from the film. As you know, time is money.” Zarzour narrowed his gaze at her, his true darkness peeking out. “Besides, I’ve seen the dailies. I’ve never bought that Hamilton loves her. It’s the other guy... what’s his name—”
“Flanders,” Jesse said, low, burdened.
“Right, Flanders.” Zarzour’s cigarette ashes tumbled to the hardwood. “You can see that he’s in love with her every time he’s on the screen. You could havehimpick up her lifeless body and walk off into the sunset so we know she had someone who buried her after Hamilton is gone. You play that role, don’t you, Jesse? Are you in love with Chloe here? Because every time—”
“Greg!” Jeremiah said.
But Jesse was already on the move. “Flanders doesn’t love her! It’s Hamilton. He’s the one. Did you not read the script? If anyone saves her, it should be him.”
“Esther cannot die!” Chloe screeched, wild and frantic. She whirled to Jeremiah. “You promised me I’d live in this role. Jesse, you promised me—”
“Chloe, sweetheart, they aren’t in charge any more.” Zarzour perched the cigarette on the edge of his lips. “Jeremiah, how about you kill off Hamilton in the first battle, so I can get Chris down to New Zealand and working on his part? There’s a lot of action for him to learn and rehearse.”
Chris moaned and slid down in his chair. “Jeremiah, can I please have a shot of bourbon?”
“No.”
Zarzour turned to his silent assistant. “E-mail Halston, tell him to get Aaron Heinley to fly out here.” She started tapping notes into her phone. “He might have to make the cuts for us.”
Jesse felt the wrecking ball swinging toward his dreams.Boom. They’d lost. From the center of the room, Chloe sank onto the edge of the coffee table, her eyes brimming with a watery sheen.
“Don’t bother, Greg,” Jeremiah said. “We’ll do the cuts.”
“Good. I knew you’d see things my way.” The studio head had all the answers, didn’t he? Except what to do with the ashes falling from his cigarette. He finally tapped them into the crystal bowl Chris had used. “How long will that take, including reshoots? Two weeks? You’ve only been filming a month, so there shouldn’t be too much more. I can stop theSea Dragonbleed for two weeks.”
“Two, yeah.” Jeremiah dropped into the nearest chair.
“So, what am I doing?” Chris said. “Going to New Zealand?”
“As soon as possible. Jer, how about releasing him in a week? He’s got a lot to learn.” Zarzour turned to Jesse. “Think you can handle the changes?”
Chloe rose and drifted down a dark hall, her muffled cry bouncing against the walls.
“No, Mr. Zarzour, I can’t. I won’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I can’t and I won’t.” His confession started out weak but grew stronger with each passing moment.
Jeremiah lifted his head. Chloe reappeared from the hallway. Chris sat up, amused.
“I thought you were a team player, Gates,” Zarzour demanded.
