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“I promised we’d do a little get to know you. I thought it might be nice to use characters to do so. As we heard last night, we know what Ruby and Claire do to give their characters depth. But I hardly believe being ‘ass plowed’ by a dragon on the big screen is the answer for this. I’d like to know what the rest of the group thinks. So let’s start with telling each other something interesting – something you would not want your readers to know – and ending on how we use this on our characters.” Again, I was being intentionally wordy. I needed to know they could stay focused long enough to follow a list of instructions. With fan fiction and the internet jammed full of shorts, anyone who’d be able to mimic my voice had to be able to pay attention to details and have the memory to see them through. I was not a writer for Wattpad and I demanded they weren’t either.
“This will be fun,” Ruby said, wiggling in her chair and closing her workshop-issued notebook. “We did this in acting school.”
She’s pliable, at least. Horrible for her own brand but would be great for picking up where I left off. Smiling, I asked if anyone else had experience with either role play or exploring characters. Jennie, with her arms crossed over her chest, looked like at any second she was going to jump over the table and kill someone. Without a stitch of make-up and her hair down, she was more beautiful than yesterday. I had no doubt she was miserable without her scary mask on. Reaching up only to pull the hair over each side of her face, I got a closer look at her scars and solidified my theory that she had never intended to kill herself. But on her upper arm, I saw something else too. Uncovered by her long, usual widow sleeves, she had no way to hide the massive burn on her bicep. I needed to know where it came from – and fast.
“Ruby, you’ll be partners with Jennie. In fact, you’ll stay that way for the duration of the workshop.”
“Okay,” Ruby said.
Jennie pulled her hair back and leaned further back in her chair.
“I call Don!” Claire said, bouncing in her seat.
“Don will work alone,” I said. “Where he needs a partner, he has me.”
“Oh. Bless your heart,” she said, tilting her head in Don’s direction. “Who’s my person, then?”
I wasn’t sure if she was just a blatant idiot or if Claire Thomas needed each and every direction spelt out. I reminded myself that at dinner last night, she’d asked each and every member of the group to describe their last fart. Jennie solidified it. I wasn’t wrong in thinking that maybe Claire had a few screws loose. “Um. Brian?”
Again, I had to turn around so as not to laugh out loud. For as dense as Claire was, I’d already surmised that she didn’t have a wicked bone in her body. It wasn’t right to make her feel dumb. Nodding, only to back Jennie’s obvious assumption up, I made quick work of laying the exercise out. I was nearly done when Brian’s fidgeting became too much.
“If you can’t sit still, you can leave,” I said. “Your jiggling is, well, frankly, distracting.” It’s also giving me a headache, like the tumors aren’t enough. Asshat.
“Sorry,” he said, frowning. “I’m itchy.”
“Whatcha need is Calamine lotion, honey.”
“Or coconut oil,” Ruby, who had clearly begun to warm up to the group, interjected.
“Great. You and Ms. Thomas can figure that out while the rest of us get to work,” I said, wanting to slap the splotches off the side of Brian’s neck. “I’ll be back in an hour. Make good use of your time.” With that, I headed straight out of the conference room and into my office.
Inside, I quickly dialed Ant. Alice could entertain the fools for all I cared. I had a list for him that, for the short space of time we had, felt miles long. If even Ruby had had enough time to settle in, it was time to push this forward.
Five minutes later, Ant’s lips curled up into a half grin, half smirk. “Yes, sir. I’m on it. And I’ve completed last night’s list.”
“Where’s the rabbit?”
“Basement.”
“Has she asked for him?”
“No. I heard her tell Mr. Shirtless that she doesn’t believe you’ll do it. Even said that if you do, she’ll burn the whole place down. Talks tough, that one.”
“For now.”
***
“I’VE TOLD YOU A MILLION times, Ant is not the problem. He has a trust fund. He doesn’t need more than that. You’ve been good to him. I wish you’d drop it.”
It’d never made sense to me why Virginia hadn’t wanted more for Ant than to be stuck on the grounds. While I understood that she was protective, he was in his forties now. At what point would she be okay with him leaving? But it wasn’t worth the fight. I didn’t have a lot of time and was only here to check on her now. Once I turned the keys over to the workshop winner, Ant would be free to go. I was excited for him.
“Watch Ruby,” she said.
“Ruby? She seems to be coming out of her shell.”
“Exactly.”
“Okay, then. I will.” I didn’t have the time nor interest to explore it. While this was all a big game to Virginia, it wasn’t to me. My life’s work and, hell, life itself were on the line. Somehow, in all of this, that had been lost in translation. It was like the time they turned Pretty Dead Objects into a Portuguese edition and it didn’t land. Virginia, dead so long, had forgotten that with death came fear. For the first time, ever, I was glad for the care team. But I refused to bring it up to her. I needed her to see me as a strong man.
“I’m serious, Lee. Too quiet.”
I wanted to point out how she’d changed the subject and that Ant was as much my family as hers now. But arguing with Virginia, and this early, was never worth it. She had no energy to expend on the very thing slipping away from me – life. And I could change the subject too.
“Did you see Jennie’s burn?”
“No.”
“Look again. Upper right arm. From her elbow to her shoulder.”
“Are you sure that’s not a tattoo? She’s covered in them.”
“Positive. And the wild part is the burn looks pretty new.”
It was always a fine line talking about fire with Virginia Rose. She was weird about what she called ‘the elements.’ While all of my books included something about her—my muse—hers had themes of nature like earth, wind, water, and fire. In her last release before she died, she’d written of brush fires so intense I was certain she’d burn the mansion down and call it research. I’d found it courageous. Her entire family, other than Ant, had been lost to a tragic house fire. Ruled arson, the case had gone unsolved, but it hadn’t been long after that when I’d met her. Living with her brother in a small studio apartment, she’d taken the insurance money to pay for college. Since, she’d been as strange about fire as she most recently had been about water.
Virginia went silent. I knew exactly why. I cursed myself for bringing it up. My love was off to get a closer look at the melted flesh at the top of Jennie’s arm. Ever curious, I should have known better. But her leaving without a goodbye was a thing Alice had me accustomed to. Opening my eyes and leaving the bathroom, I’d catch up with my favorite muse later. I needed to get a chapter in on my WIP. Soon enough, I’d be back in the conference room and partnered up with a man who believed it was perfectly okay to break a contract for a workshop I did not need. I was as sick as the rest of them – allowing this to be the way I spent the final days of my life. It was hard to know, was I a sadist or a masochist? Probably both. If you asked Alice, she’d go with the first. Virginia would say the latter. They’d both be right.
***
THERE WAS NO WAY I was missing dinner. With Lucifer tucked neatly in the basement, I had to at least stick around for the show. While she’d kept her snarky comments and consummate eye rolls mostly to herself so far, it was time to see what one Ms. Jennie Olson was actually made of. Don was merely a bonus. After hours of working with him and listening to ridiculous grand plans for his future, I’d had enough. It’d be nice to see the look on his face when Alice forced him to finish his squirrel stew. Thank you, Shelia.