Phoenix Falling by Mary Jo Putney Read Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Jo Putney
to think more about personal reasons, though she was painfully accurate in guessing that he hated the idea of being stripped bare emotionally in front of her. She already knew him too well. "The personal and professional intersect. The combination of this particular role and working with you is more than I can handle. You've created a great opportunity for yourself. Don't ruin it because of some misguided belief that I'm essential to your success."
"Unfortunately, you are essential."
He turned to face her. "Truth time. Are you sure your conviction that only I can play John Randall doesn't have anything to do with our disintegrating marriage?"
She flinched as if he'd slapped her. "You think this is all an excuse to spend time with you?"
His smile was wintry. "Nothing as simple as that. I won't pretend to understand the workings of your convoluted mind. Only you can say for sure."
She bit her lip and thought about his question. "To the extent that being married to you gave me a better sense of your talent and potentials, it's personal that I want you for this movie. And... there's a small, sick part of me that loves the idea of working with you again. A much larger part would rather dodge trucks on the Santa Ana Freeway."
As always, her stark honesty undermined his defenses. Taking another tack, he asked, "Is the potential payoff for this movie worth the psychic cost of working together?"
"I think so, or I wouldn't put us both through this." Her changeable eyes were pure, cool gray as she regarded him. "Let's take it one day at a time, Kenzie. Don't think about the whole movie all at once. A day's shooting only amounts to a few minutes of usable film, and surely for those few minutes you can handle this role. There's nothing like slicing a story into hundreds of takes to grind the primal fear away."
She had a point. If he thought of this strictly as a matter of craft, performed one take at a time, it was more manageable. Acting didn't have to be personal, and probably was better if it wasn't. Maybe American Method actors felt the need to immerse themselves in ice water before playing a winter scene, but no well-trained British actor had to do that.
You're kidding yourself. The voice in his mind was the one that couldn't be denied, that knew him in all his weaknesses. He was kidding himself, but he was caught between a rock and a hard place. Wanting to help Rainey, he'd given his word without checking the project out carefully enough. It had never occurred to him that the story would be one that gave him cold chills.
But he couldn't back out now without causing enormous damage to Rainey, and that he couldn't bear. He'd have to make the blasted movie, no matter how painful the process. "You win," he said reluctantly. "I won't quit, but don't blame me if my performance doesn't live up to your expectation."
"Thank God. You had me scared out of my wits." She approached and laid a hand on his wrist. "I'm sorry I didn't handle this better. I should have made sure you'd read the script before sending the contracts."
"The fault was mine." He looked down at her hand, feeling her touch burning through him. More than anything on earth, he wanted to take her in his arms. Just... hold her, as they'd once held each other at the end of long, exhausting days.
Impossible, of course. Someday, when the fires of passion had burned out and she'd married someone else, it might be possible to embrace as friends, but not now.
With effort, he moved away. "Even though I trust your judgment, ultimately the responsibility for reading the work was mine."
"Apart from horror at having to play Randall, what did you think of the script?" There was more than a trace of uncertainty in her voice.
"Very powerful. Good characters, good structure. Classic storytelling, which the movies need more of. I'd love to see it with, say, Laurence Olivier in his prime playing Randall."
"I'd have taken him if he was thirty and available. You're the next best
"Unfortunately, you are essential."
He turned to face her. "Truth time. Are you sure your conviction that only I can play John Randall doesn't have anything to do with our disintegrating marriage?"
She flinched as if he'd slapped her. "You think this is all an excuse to spend time with you?"
His smile was wintry. "Nothing as simple as that. I won't pretend to understand the workings of your convoluted mind. Only you can say for sure."
She bit her lip and thought about his question. "To the extent that being married to you gave me a better sense of your talent and potentials, it's personal that I want you for this movie. And... there's a small, sick part of me that loves the idea of working with you again. A much larger part would rather dodge trucks on the Santa Ana Freeway."
As always, her stark honesty undermined his defenses. Taking another tack, he asked, "Is the potential payoff for this movie worth the psychic cost of working together?"
"I think so, or I wouldn't put us both through this." Her changeable eyes were pure, cool gray as she regarded him. "Let's take it one day at a time, Kenzie. Don't think about the whole movie all at once. A day's shooting only amounts to a few minutes of usable film, and surely for those few minutes you can handle this role. There's nothing like slicing a story into hundreds of takes to grind the primal fear away."
She had a point. If he thought of this strictly as a matter of craft, performed one take at a time, it was more manageable. Acting didn't have to be personal, and probably was better if it wasn't. Maybe American Method actors felt the need to immerse themselves in ice water before playing a winter scene, but no well-trained British actor had to do that.
You're kidding yourself. The voice in his mind was the one that couldn't be denied, that knew him in all his weaknesses. He was kidding himself, but he was caught between a rock and a hard place. Wanting to help Rainey, he'd given his word without checking the project out carefully enough. It had never occurred to him that the story would be one that gave him cold chills.
But he couldn't back out now without causing enormous damage to Rainey, and that he couldn't bear. He'd have to make the blasted movie, no matter how painful the process. "You win," he said reluctantly. "I won't quit, but don't blame me if my performance doesn't live up to your expectation."
"Thank God. You had me scared out of my wits." She approached and laid a hand on his wrist. "I'm sorry I didn't handle this better. I should have made sure you'd read the script before sending the contracts."
"The fault was mine." He looked down at her hand, feeling her touch burning through him. More than anything on earth, he wanted to take her in his arms. Just... hold her, as they'd once held each other at the end of long, exhausting days.
Impossible, of course. Someday, when the fires of passion had burned out and she'd married someone else, it might be possible to embrace as friends, but not now.
With effort, he moved away. "Even though I trust your judgment, ultimately the responsibility for reading the work was mine."
"Apart from horror at having to play Randall, what did you think of the script?" There was more than a trace of uncertainty in her voice.
"Very powerful. Good characters, good structure. Classic storytelling, which the movies need more of. I'd love to see it with, say, Laurence Olivier in his prime playing Randall."
"I'd have taken him if he was thirty and available. You're the next best