Cutting Loose

Charlie wandered into the kitchen after Ty, idly surveying the brushed aluminum Sub-Zero appliances and granite counters. “I’m tempted to ask you for a cappuccino just for the entertainment value of seeing Mr. People’s Choice Award figuring out how to use the knobs on that machine.”

“For that, you get water,” Ty said, grabbing two bottles from the refrigerator and tossing one to his friend.

Out on the deck, they relaxed in redwood Adirondack chairs and watched the morning mist burn away, until they could glimpse the sea in the bright distance.

“So, you into preproduction for Dark Touch yet?” Charlie asked idly, leaning back with a sigh.

“We start rehearsals next week.”

Charlie turned his head to study Ty. “And you’re not looking too thrilled about it.”

“It’s got problems, especially with the dialog.” And unless Ty did something about it, he’d be the chump stuck mouthing the bad lines. “The concept’s solid, it’ll definitely play, but the script needs tightening.”

“And?” Charlie prompted.

He shrugged. “And it’s just another Ty Ramsay hero. You know, the strong, quiet outsider who comes in and saves the day against the terrorists or the mobsters or the counterfeiters or whoever. Same guy, different movie.”

“They’re not all the same.”

“You’re right.” Ty gave a humorless smile. “They’ve each got their signature flaw: one smokes, one has anger management issues, one’s a rule-breaker, one—”

“Dresses in women’s underwear?” Charlie offered.

“Only in your movies. Admit it, Charlie, I’ve been one-tracked.” Ty fell broodingly silent and stared out at the canyon.

“So ask your agent to get you some other kinds of scripts. Go for the dark, sensitive stuff.”

If only it were that easy. “The studios want dark or sensitive they go to Nic Cage or Johnny Depp. They don’t come to me. They come to me when they want a guy who’s good at blowing stuff up.” He took a long drink of his water and reminded himself he should be happy for his success, not feeling as though his life wasn’t meshing the way he’d expected it to.

“Well, you could have the opposite problem. The studios look at me, they see Mr. Indie. Winning that jury prize at the film festival helped me in terms of getting small money, but it hasn’t done dick for me in the big leagues.”

“You want to blow stuff up?” Ty raised an eyebrow.

“Not exactly.” Charlie took a pull on his bottle of water. “Just once, I’d like to do something that’s not on a shoestring budget, though. If I could just have a crack at it, I could make it work.”

“Don’t I know that feeling. When you’re talking about millions, though, they want to know you can do it before they put the money behind it.”

“It bites,” Charlie said moodily.

“Yeah.”

They watched a swallow flit among the trees.

“You know—”

“Of course—”

They both stopped. “You first,” Charlie said.

“What if we teamed up? To start a production company, I mean.”

Charlie’s eyes gleamed. “You took the words right out of my mouth. You act, I direct. With your name, we can find the financing. Hunt up a few scripts we like, start them into development…”

“Everybody’s happy.” Ty sat forward, suddenly alive with energy. “Equal votes. When we find one we both like, we go with it. Then later, once the company’s running, we can pursue separate projects if we want.”

“There’s a script I’ve got optioned,” Charlie said slowly, “but I haven’t done anything with it because I know it would take more than I could come up with to do it right. I’ll send it over to you Monday. If you’re serious about this.”

“I’m serious.”

“Serious now or serious ‘some day’?”

“Serious yesterday. I am so ready for this, you wouldn’t believe.” Ty lapsed into silence, drumming his fingers on the chair arm. “We’ll need a name.”

Charlie considered. “Two Guys Productions?”

“And you’re supposed to be the creative part of the team? This is going to show up on a screen fifty feet high. How about Zephyr Productions?”

“Oh, sure, you want to name it after a bunch of hot air?”

“You’ve got a point,” Ty allowed and thought some more. “Okay, how about GDI Films?”

“GDI Films? As in ‘God-damn Independent’?”

“You know, that scrappy outsider thing.”

Charlie mulled it over and nodded slowly. “It works. I like it. So what’s our next step? We do the legal stuff, but how do we get things rolling?”

“I was at a party for the premiere of my cousin’s doc the other night,” Ty said thoughtfully. “Met a guy who might be good for coordinating things.”

“As long as that’s all he wants to do,” Charlie warned. “We don’t want to bring in some outsider who’s going to try to run things.”

“No, but we do need someone good to chase details. This guy sounds solid. I’ll follow up, see if I can get more info on him.”

“But keep it low-key.” Charlie nodded his head to some beat that only he could hear. “So yeah, Sabrina’s doc premiered last night, huh? How was it?”

“Really good. No surprise there. Sabrina knows what she’s doing. And she gives a hell of a party.” Trish, sliding her hand down her hip. Trish, dangling those delicious legs as she sat on the kitchen counter. Trish, silky and warm against him.

“So who is she?”

Ty blinked, then looked out at the canyon. “Sabrina’s my cousin, you idiot.”

“I’m not talking about your cousin. I know that look. Who is she? Tell Uncle Charlie.”

Ty considered denying it, but Charlie always had been able to read him. “No one you know.”

“I knew you wouldn’t stay on the wagon,” Charlie said comfortably.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, even you, action boy, are human. You can say you’re giving up women all you want, but you can only have so many gorgeous babes falling at your feet before you cave, right? Carpe diem and all that.”

Ty gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Hey, you’re free, single and over eighteen. What’s the problem?”

“I wasn’t on the cover of the Enquirer once last year,” Ty said, almost to himself. “It was kind of nice, you know?”

“You decided to give up women because of the tabloids?”

“No, I decided to take a break because I got tired of thinking I’d found the one and having it end in knockdown drag-outs with people I’d cared about.”

The humor faded from Charlie’s eyes. “Look, your parents, that love-at-first-sight thing? That doesn’t happen to real people.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“And what you feel on a movie set when you’re paid to pretend you’re a guy in love with a knockout who’s pretending to be in love with you, that’s not real, either.”

“Okay, okay.” If Ty was sick of playing the same parts in films, he was doubly sick of doing the same stupid things over and over again in his personal life. “Give me some credit, I’ve figured out the whole fooling-myself part. It’s not all looks.” There had to be more—a real connection, fun, complexity that made him want to get beneath the surface.

“So I take it this one’s—er, what do we call her?”

“Trish.”

“So this Trish looks like your grandmother, then?”

Ty’s mouth tightened briefly, then relaxed as he saw the humor in it. “Not exactly.”

“Didn’t think so. Look, you have whatever fun you want, bud. Just don’t let it interfere with GDI, because we’ve got a mission. GDI Films,” he repeated. “I like it already.”

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