"I came for the manuscript," Lance said again, growing stronger in his resolve.
"You want this, do you?" the little man asked, holding the pages away from Lance's reach. "Well, I don't think I'm going to give it to you." He went to the dresser, picked up a handful of scripts, and tossed them onto the bed in front of Lance, where they landed, splayed like a deck of cards. "Your stock has already started to fall. So, no, I don't think I'll be giving you this manuscript today. I think the world might need to hear about the true adventures of Philippe and Isabella. Or," Richard said, drawing one hand to his lips, "should I say Lance and Julia?" He turned back to the manuscript. "Page one-fifty-seven alone should—"
"You don't need the manuscript," Lance said.
"Oh, yes I do," Richard cried.
"No, you don't."
"Why?" Richard asked, tempting Lance to trump his hand.
Lance straightened. His voice was clear and steady as he said, "Because I'm willing to make a trade."
Then he sat down on the bed and gathered the scripts and told Richard Stone what he had spent five years hoping no one would ever find out.
Chapter Twenty Four
WAY #97: Choose very carefully the bridges you burn.
One of the challenges of being single is making major decisions without a sounding board. No matter how certain you are that you're doing the right thing, realize that sometimes you're going to need to turn around.
—from 701 Ways to Cheat at Solitaire
Good-bye chapter seven!" Julia cried as she tossed the pages into the fireplace and watched the flames lick at their edges, reducing Tomorrow's Temptation to dust. "Tell me how you got it again," she asked, pulling her legs beneath her, curling up like a child in front of the fire.
"I bribed a maid into letting me into his hotel room," Lance answered. "He was in the shower, so I grabbed the manuscript and got out."
"But not before you ..." she prompted.
"Took all his clothes," Lance obliged, biting back a smile.
"And ..."
"All the towels."
"And then you ..."
"Threw them in the swimming pool."
Julia threw both arms skyward, signaling touchdown with her hands, then fed another handful of pages to the flames. "The swimming pool part is my favorite. Nina's very proud."
"It felt very Nina when I was doing it. You know who else would have approved? The Georgias."
Julia agreed. "The Georgias would have loved every second."
"And Ro-Ro," Lance offered.
But Julia was shaking her head. "Ro-Ro would have taken the sheets, too."
Lance laughed. "I could learn a lot from Ro-Ro."
The light from the fire mixed with the sound of his laughter and seemed to wash over her old house. She held the next set of pages out to Lance. "Chapter eight?" she offered, but he shook his head.
"Count Sebastian rides into town in chapter eight. Without him, Isabella wouldn't have realized her true love for Philippe. Now, do you really want to do that to Count Sebastian?"
"You bet your life I do. He was a little vagrant. Burn, baby, burn!" she said, tossing the pages into the fire and watching the flames dance with fresh fuel. Julia rose to her knees and yelled at the top of her lungs, knowing there wasn't a soul for five miles in any direction to hear her, "Veronica White is retired! Veronica White is dead!"
She turned to him, prepared to laugh, but he was staring. Julia felt burned herself beneath his gaze, and her cheeks flushed. She felt bare, without any of the defenses she had spent years mastering.