Writing Mr. Right (10 page)

“Oh, I could say you believe you left your glasses somewhere in the shop, yeah?”

Georgia crinkled one side of her nose. “I don’t wear glasses.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

Cassie cracked open her bottle of green smoothie and took a long swig as Georgia grimaced. Cassie stuck out her tongue and recapped the concoction before turning to her traditional pre-flight snack - a pack of Twizzlers. “Don’t just let this go, Georgia. I know you’re thinking about him all the time.”

Georgia sighed. Before she could respond to this comment, the flight desk called all Business Class tickets to board the plane. For a moment, Georgia didn’t move. Cassie nudged her twice before Georgia realized she was flying in Business Class - she had been for weeks.

The flight to Los Angeles was shorter than her recent travels back and forth to the UK, though not by much. She settled in with her headphones and watched a couple films – including one starring Benedict Cumberbatch, much to Cassie’s approval.

Georgia didn’t have any interest in Los Angeles. She wasn’t there for a signing this time around. She was flying in for a couple talk shows, a photoshoot of some kind that she wasn’t looking forward to, and finally, meetings with her agent and some Hollywood big wig. If there was any conversation she’d ever looked forward to less, she couldn’t remember it.

This whole whirlwind of success was the loveliest blessing, and she knew that, but deep down, Georgia just wanted to curl up in a quiet apartment in Inverness and watch a half-naked man cook her breakfast.

The fact that this half naked man wasn’t calling her wasn’t a happy thought whenever it crossed her mind.

They landed in L.A. without further discussion of Garrett, arriving at the rented apartment by mid evening. Georgia slumped on the leather couch of the posh little L.A. bungalow with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the valley, and pulled up the hokiest Rom Com she could find. She wasn’t beneath mindless distraction. Cassie was on her phone non-stop from the moment they landed, but as she meandered through the living room of their temporary home, she slumped down onto the couch beside, and gave a huff.

“What’s up with you?”

Cassie waved her phone in the air. “I’m in the same boat as you – guy I went on a date with last week isn’t calling.”

Georgia gave a half laugh. “Well, call him then, Cass! Don’t let this one go!”

Cassie glared at her. “It’s not the same. We only went on a date; I didn’t shag him to my heart’s content for twenty four hours. We just had a nice dinner.”

Georgia smiled. “That sounds pretty nice to me.”

“I really thought we hit it off, too.”

“Well, hitting it off is fun and all, but do you want someone you hit it off with, or do you want someone who can’t stop thinking about you?”

Cassie leaned back on the couch, her eyes closed. “The latter.”

“There you go.”

They sat there a moment in silence. Finally, Cassie glanced down at her phone, forlorn. “I even did that thing you told me to do – writing down my wishes?”

“Did you? On the New Moon?”

Cassie nodded. “Yeah, lotta good that did me.”

“Well, it doesn’t always work immediately. Sometimes it take a few weeks, or even longer.”

“What a rip off.”

Georgia chuckled, curling her legs up under her on the couch. “Hey, I’m the queen of ‘even longer’ so don’t complain.”

“I know, but -” She stopped, fidgeting with her phone a moment.

“What is it?” Georgia asked.

“Will you do it for me?”

Georgia rolled her eyes. “You’ve been talking to Sam, haven’t you?”

“She said it always works when you do it.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

Cassie wasn’t listening. “Can you do it anytime? Like write a note about me while I’m in Delaware or some shit, and it comes true?”

Georgia shook her head. “No. You have to be there. You have to see me do it.”

“Why?”

Georgia thought about it for a moment. “Because it’s not my writing it that makes it come true, it’s your believing in it that does.”

“Well, I believe! I mean, it’s just one line of text. Just one sentence. I swear I’ll never ask you to do it again.”

“Even if it works?”

Cassie held the Girl Scout hand sign up like she was coming Straight Outta Compton. “I promise. Just once. Please?”

Georgia sighed and Cassie began to bounce on the couch beside her, reaching into her bag on the floor. She pulled a small pad of paper and a pen from within and handed it to Georgia.

“You know, there’s no reason you can’t do this yourself.”

Cassie gave her a cross-eyed expression. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve said that, but I’ve seen how things happen for you. Everyone might be capable, but you’re a freakin Jedi at this stuff.”

“I’m not a Jedi,” Georgia said, but she laughed to herself. She couldn’t deny the uncanny things that happened when she wrote something down. Georgia glanced at Cassie and raised her eyebrows at the young blonde. “Well, what do you want it to say?”

Cassie straightened on the couch as though preparing to compete in a spelling bee. “Cassandra Elizabeth Seaton is the girlfriend of the gorgeous Danie -

Georgia chuckled and shook her head. Don’t ask for someone specific, Cass, she thought. Describe how you want him to make you feel, and let the right one come.

These words, once spoken by her beloved Nana sent a chill down her spine. She’d done that very thing – and the bastard who fit the bill wasn’t calling. She pursed her lips and pushed those thoughts aside. Then Georgia began to scribble on the piece of paper.

Cassandra feels the phone buzz in her hand, startling her to attention. She looks down at the screen and smiles wide.

Georgia handed the slab of paper over and uncapped her bottle of root beer, taking a sip as Cassie read the words. “Oh god, if only it was that easy, right? I’d give anything -”

Cassie’s phone buzzed in her left hand. She jumped, lifting it to inspect the message. Georgia knew already who it was, though she was startled. This juju of hers, it always worked, but even this was a little too fast for her tastes. She had the shivers, and from Cassie’s expression, so did she.

Damn it, why doesn’t it work like this for me? She thought.

“Oh my god! Oh my god, it’s him. He says he’s going to call me in ten minutes. Oh my god! Oh my god! That was fucking uncanny.”

Georgia snorted. “Yeah, it usually is.”

Cassie launched herself up from the couch, heading for her bedroom. She shot a quick glance at the Julia Roberts movie on the screen, and stopped, glaring at Georgia. “Are you kidding me?”

Georgia froze like a child caught skipping school. “What?”

“Call him, damn it. It’ll be mid-morning over there, yeah? Just call the shop, say you changed your number. Do us all a freakin favor.”

Georgia shook her head. She’d given chase of a man who couldn’t offer love if his life depended on it. She never wanted to do it again.

Cassie marched over to the coffee table, snatched up the pen and paper and handed it to Georgia. “Write it out for yourself. Then call him. At least give him your new number, damn it. His middle name is fucking Douglas!”

Georgia sighed. She had written that very thing for herself, many times. It just didn’t seem to work that way for her. If it did, Garrett would have called by now. “Ok, I will.”

“You will? Thank god. Alright, I’m going to bed. Wish me luck,” Cassie said, squealing as she rushed out of the room.

Georgia sat up for several hours, trying desperately to pretend every man on the screen didn’t remind her of a certain Scotsman. She didn’t write her hopes and dreams on that tiny notepad – didn’t write about the chills she’d feel when she heard his voice again.

And she didn’t call.

Georgia realized very quickly that L.A. zapped her mojo. It was hot, the sushi was terrible, and despite her best efforts to enjoy the overly friendly wait staff or the laid back demeanor everyone seemed to possess, all she wanted in the world was to hear someone say the c-word in a Scottish accent.

Cassie was fielding far more calls and emails than usual, as it seemed several L.A. area celebrities were fans of her books.

“Yes, of course Jared. I’ll have her sign them right now. Who, too? Angelina? Of course.”

Georgia listened with feigned disinterest, despite a tiny voice inside giggling and squealing in delight with a few of the phone calls she overheard. No one called directly, but Cassie knew the names of over a dozen personal assistants to the stars within 48 hours of their arrival in La-La Land.

“Alright, so we’re out of the studio by noon, then we’re gonna be in Boniche for lunch this afternoon, you have an interview with -”

“Cassie. It doesn’t matter, I’m not going to remember. Just wheel me around like a child in a stroller and introduce me when I arrive.”

Cassie laughed at this and did as she was told. Georgia shook hands with TV producers, stage managers, and makeup artists, learning names and signing books as she swept through the city. By the fourth day, Georgia was pink in the cheeks, and almost brainwashed enough to try a kale smoothie one morning while waiting to have breakfast with a David Mallory. Luckily, he arrived before the waitress succeeded in talking her into it.

“Georgia, I’m so glad to finally meet you!”

David Mallory was in his mid-forties, right around her height, and sporting a flowing mane of shoulder length salt and pepper hair. He also smelled of aftershave.

“Nice to meet you as well,” she said, shielding her eyes from the sun to take in his face.

“So, I love the books. I mean, love them.”

Georgia smiled as Cassie pecked away at her iPhone, seemingly oblivious to the conversation happening around her.

“Really? I’m so glad to hear that.”

David quickly ordered a sparkling water with lemon and then returned his attention to her. “I’m gonna ask you right out, have you been approached for the film rights, yet?”

Georgia shrugged. “My agent says there’s been some interest, yes.”

“Well, I’m here to railroad over all of them. I want this picture. I want to be at the helm of this picture so bad, Georgia. May I call you Georgia?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Wonderful. Thank you,” he said, taking his fruity seltzer from the waitress. “Do you have any idea what they were offering?”

Georgia nodded. “I have an idea, but you know this conversation has to end with my agent.”

He flashed her a smile of porcelain veneers, and nodded. “I do indeed. Oh! He made it.”

With that, David Mallory stood and lunged past the table to shake hands with a tall dark haired man, then he turned, wrapping an arm around the tall gentleman as he introduced the table to Germaine Ross.

Cassie dropped her phone onto the tiled patio floor, mouth agape.

Georgia stood quickly, extending a hand, but Germaine would have none of it. He stepped around the table, opened his arms, and planted a kiss on each of Georgia’s cheeks. “Hello there, love.”

The familiar brogue reverberated in her every cell.

Germaine Ross was a six foot something actor who hailed from Glasgow, and Georgia knew his work well. He’d been a major character on one of her favorite BBC America shows well before she’d even dreamed of writing
Woman In White
. And Cassie’s expression was no lie – he really was that attractive in person.

“So I see you know Germaine.”

David gave Cassie a nudge, and she shook herself from her trance, taking the quick kiss on the cheek with as much grace as she could muster. She nodded, searching the ground for her dropped phone.

“Well, I had him come down with me, because I wanted you to meet your Douglas MacCready.”

Cassie openly fawned, gushing at the perfection of this casting, but Georgia kept her poker face, staring at him with observant eyes. She leaned onto the table, and Germaine Ross leaned in right back. He was one hell of a flirt.

“You have green eyes,” she said, smiling.

He grinned, but David Mallory spoke for him.

“Of course he does. He has to. He’s her green eyed salvation.”

Georgia raised her brows, impressed with David’s memory. “He is indeed. Have you read the books, Mr. Ross?”

“Germaine, please. Georgia.”

They smiled at each other and she couldn’t help, but picture the fellow in breeches and white linen shirts, tying a woman’s wrists to keep her from causing trouble on his pier.

“I have just started the second. Do ye find out whether she jumped in this one?”

Georgia smirked. “You’re not the first to ask that.”

“No, I imagine I won’t be the last.”

Germaine ordered himself a sparkling orange juice and settled in to conversation. They discussed the books, the publishing process, how surreal her sudden success must be. She sat back and sipped her root beer, basking in Germaine Ross’ Scottish burr. It wasn’t as thick as Garrett’s; Hollywood had seen to that, but still it felt soothing to hear it again this far from Scotland. The business end came up several times, but Georgia assured Mr. Mallory that she could no more make a decision than breakdance with Sarah Elise there. He agreed, still wagging his eyebrows at her, ready to sweeten the pot if the need were to arise.

“So, what is it about Scotland, then? Anything in particular, or just where the story took ye?”

Germaine was sucking down the last of his ‘orange lemonade’ as he called it, and watching Georgia intently.

Georgia thought a moment. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I think everything ends up taking me to Scotland. I’ve always been inexplicably fond of the place.”

Cassie perked up. “Of course she has. She almost got herself arrested there when she was like ten.”

Georgia laughed as Germaine’s brows shot up. “Pray tell.”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just got into a bit of a tiff with a cop. And I was eight, thank you.”

The waitress brought the check and David snatched it from the table instantly.

“Well, I hope I will get to see you another time, and you can tell me all about it,” Germaine said, rising from the table.

“That would be lovely.”

They all gave their pleasant goodbyes and headed for the doors of the patio. Just as they reached the sidewalk. David Mallory leaned in, his words hushed, just for her to hear.