people knew she’d written that script. Tony Upton knew. Hanging on the
wall behind the register were autographed headshots of celebrities whom Tony
admired. Daphne’s was up there, just over his left shoulder.
That’s
why Tony never cared if she camped out at a table in his café all day. He loved
her work. He thought she classed up the place. She was part of the Uptown Coffee
family. If anyone else tried to open a laptop, he’d fuss at them. But not at
Daphne or at anyone who came in with her. He even kept an extension cord for
her behind the counter.
“Here
you go,” Rebekah said, setting Daphne’s mug on the counter. Daphne handed Tony
a credit card to start a tab, then carried her drink to her table. She pulled
her laptop from her bag and set to work.
~~~~
Around
nine o’clock, at his usual time, Dan showed up. Seeing his face, Daphne felt an
immense sense of relief. Even after their harsh words last night, she hadn’t
lost her friend or her writing partner. In many ways, he was another member of
her makeshift family, if only because she’d known him so long.
He
dropped down into the seat across from her, breathless. “I almost got killed
walking over here!” he said. “A blond breeder backed her land yacht right up
onto the sidewalk.”
“Really?
Onto the sidewalk?” Daphne quirked an eyebrow.
“Nearly.
You know how big the bumpers are on those things. It’s amazing she didn’t take
my leg off.”
“It’s
amazing.”
Daphne
was accustomed to Dan’s exaggeration and crass language. Often, he was funny.
But sometimes, he was just offensive.
Dan
was good with words. He knew their power. He knew how to choose words with
care. If he wanted to say something virulently sexist, or racist, or otherwise,
then he was doing it on purpose. Sure he’d claim it was a joke. But jokes have
power too.
Tony
Upton himself brought Dan’s cappuccino to the table, shaking Dan’s hand in
greeting. “How was your weekend?” Tony asked.
“I’ve
had better,” Dan said.
Daphne
looked up from her laptop screen, suspicious.
“What
happened?” Tony crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the story.
“I
got some unexpected bad news. Turns out someone I thought was reliable was doing
bad things behind my back.”
Tony
shook his head. “I know the feeling. I had to fire someone recently for giving
out free drinks to all of his friends. One or two, sure, but twenty a day?”
“You
can’t count on anyone it seems.” Dan shook his head sympathetically.
Daphne
rolled her eyes.
Tony
headed back to the bar, and she glared at Dan.
“What?”
He shrugged.
“I
thought we were cool.”
“Come
on, Daph. I was just joking around.”
“Dial
back the asshole, OK?”
“I’m
sorry, babe,” Dan said. “I’m still messed up about last night. I lashed out.”
She
nodded, accepting his reasoning. She could take a little lashing out if it made
him feel better about the bomb she’d dropped on him.
Years
ago, Dan had done all he could to help her escape the studios. Sure, he’d
wanted to get her into bed, but they’d also been friends. And for years now
they’d been both friends and lovers. She knew what was in his heart. He was a
forty-three-year-old man with both flaws and good intentions.
Dan
got out his notebook and a pen. Dan wrote everything by hand and then paid a
typist to transcribe his work. Daphne wasn’t sure if he even knew how to type.
He’d never sent her an email, and he didn’t own a cell phone, although in a
pinch he borrowed hers. He didn’t like electronics and claimed they gave him
headaches.
She’d
confronted him about the cell phone thing once, when they’d been trying to meet
up for a movie in Westwood. She’d arrived first, but the showing had been sold
out. She hadn’t known what to do—buy seats for the next showing? Skip the movie
and wait for another night? She’d bought the late-showing tickets, hoping she’d
done the right thing, and then waited
wall behind the register were autographed headshots of celebrities whom Tony
admired. Daphne’s was up there, just over his left shoulder.
That’s
why Tony never cared if she camped out at a table in his café all day. He loved
her work. He thought she classed up the place. She was part of the Uptown Coffee
family. If anyone else tried to open a laptop, he’d fuss at them. But not at
Daphne or at anyone who came in with her. He even kept an extension cord for
her behind the counter.
“Here
you go,” Rebekah said, setting Daphne’s mug on the counter. Daphne handed Tony
a credit card to start a tab, then carried her drink to her table. She pulled
her laptop from her bag and set to work.
~~~~
Around
nine o’clock, at his usual time, Dan showed up. Seeing his face, Daphne felt an
immense sense of relief. Even after their harsh words last night, she hadn’t
lost her friend or her writing partner. In many ways, he was another member of
her makeshift family, if only because she’d known him so long.
He
dropped down into the seat across from her, breathless. “I almost got killed
walking over here!” he said. “A blond breeder backed her land yacht right up
onto the sidewalk.”
“Really?
Onto the sidewalk?” Daphne quirked an eyebrow.
“Nearly.
You know how big the bumpers are on those things. It’s amazing she didn’t take
my leg off.”
“It’s
amazing.”
Daphne
was accustomed to Dan’s exaggeration and crass language. Often, he was funny.
But sometimes, he was just offensive.
Dan
was good with words. He knew their power. He knew how to choose words with
care. If he wanted to say something virulently sexist, or racist, or otherwise,
then he was doing it on purpose. Sure he’d claim it was a joke. But jokes have
power too.
Tony
Upton himself brought Dan’s cappuccino to the table, shaking Dan’s hand in
greeting. “How was your weekend?” Tony asked.
“I’ve
had better,” Dan said.
Daphne
looked up from her laptop screen, suspicious.
“What
happened?” Tony crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the story.
“I
got some unexpected bad news. Turns out someone I thought was reliable was doing
bad things behind my back.”
Tony
shook his head. “I know the feeling. I had to fire someone recently for giving
out free drinks to all of his friends. One or two, sure, but twenty a day?”
“You
can’t count on anyone it seems.” Dan shook his head sympathetically.
Daphne
rolled her eyes.
Tony
headed back to the bar, and she glared at Dan.
“What?”
He shrugged.
“I
thought we were cool.”
“Come
on, Daph. I was just joking around.”
“Dial
back the asshole, OK?”
“I’m
sorry, babe,” Dan said. “I’m still messed up about last night. I lashed out.”
She
nodded, accepting his reasoning. She could take a little lashing out if it made
him feel better about the bomb she’d dropped on him.
Years
ago, Dan had done all he could to help her escape the studios. Sure, he’d
wanted to get her into bed, but they’d also been friends. And for years now
they’d been both friends and lovers. She knew what was in his heart. He was a
forty-three-year-old man with both flaws and good intentions.
Dan
got out his notebook and a pen. Dan wrote everything by hand and then paid a
typist to transcribe his work. Daphne wasn’t sure if he even knew how to type.
He’d never sent her an email, and he didn’t own a cell phone, although in a
pinch he borrowed hers. He didn’t like electronics and claimed they gave him
headaches.
She’d
confronted him about the cell phone thing once, when they’d been trying to meet
up for a movie in Westwood. She’d arrived first, but the showing had been sold
out. She hadn’t known what to do—buy seats for the next showing? Skip the movie
and wait for another night? She’d bought the late-showing tickets, hoping she’d
done the right thing, and then waited
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