Phoenix Falling Read Online Free PDF

who dated back to elementary school, had been invaluable in developing The Centurion . She'd read numerous versions of the screenplay, and though she was a lawyer, not a writer, her comments had always been right on the mark and refreshingly un-Hollywood. Together they'd brainstormed the practical and legal difficulties involved in producing Rainey's dream. "You're going to get a production credit on a movie, Val."
    "Hot damn!" Val whooped. "So you've got your deal?"
    "Yep. Marcus Gordon will be the executive producer, he agreed to let me have final cut, and my soon-to-be-ex-husband will star."
    "So Kenzie said yes. I almost wish he hadn't, but with him involved, there's no way you'll lose money. Congratulations, Rainey—your career as a director has begun."
    "I still have to actually make the movie."
    "You can. You will."
    Val's warm voice carried the unconditional confidence that was supposed to be offered by mothers. Sometimes Rainey wondered what kind of relationship she and her mother would have had if Clementine hadn't died. Would they have been friends? Rivals? Enemies? Would she have taken her problems to her mother and known she'd get wise, womanly advice? Impossible to say. Clementine had been an erratic mother. When she wasn't doing concert tours, she was sometimes devoted and playful, other times stoned and inaccessible.
    Feeling her stomach knotting, Rainey said, "Will you be able to visit me during shooting? It would be great to see you in either New Mexico or England."
    "I think I can make it. I have a ton of vacation I haven't taken."
    "I'll expect you then. Heck, I'll cast you as an extra if you want."
    "Short, Rubenesque redheads do not make ideal extras. Too conspicuous."
    "You're not Rubenesque—you have a great, curvy female figure. You'd make a nice Cockney flower girl in one of the London scenes."
    Val hooted. "Better yet, hooker. Or would that get me disbarred?"
    "Propositioned, maybe, but not disbarred."
    After they hung up, Rainey called her lawyer. She wanted Kenzie's contract drawn up and signed quickly, before he could have second thoughts.
    She needed to call her cast and key crew members to tell them the project was definitely a go. Instead she stayed sprawled on the bed with the phone resting on her midriff. Since it was impossible to keep thoughts of Kenzie at bay, maybe it was easier just to give in and get them out of her system.
    * * *
    "Since we're going to work together, how about joining me for dinner so we can get better acquainted?" Kenzie suggested as they left the studio where Rainey had won the role of Marguerite St. Just.
    She accepted with giddy pleasure, and he took her to one of the fashionable restaurants where you had to be Somebody to get a table. Kenzie's fame was the kind that got them instantly escorted to a private corner booth.
    For three hours they talked back and forth over trendy food that she barely noticed. She asked questions to draw him out, since she'd never met an actor who didn't love talking about himself. He turned the tables by asking about Rainey, and had been genuinely interested in her answers. He had the deeply flattering ability to give a woman total attention, as if nothing in the world was more important than her.
    Soon they were trading stories about the ups and downs of their careers. She described almost getting herself killed riding a motorcycle for Biker Babes from Hell , while he hilariously explained the difficulties of emoting to a blank wall that would later acquire a monster created from special effects.
    Rainey hadn't had so much fun in years, and she didn't hesitate when he suggested they go to his house to rehearse their parts. It was as obvious a pickup line as she'd ever heard, but she felt reckless and willing to take events as they came.
    Outside the restaurant, several paparazzi immediately closed in, cameras flashing and questions snapping. Rainey flinched at the abrasive intrusion on their evening. On her own, she never attracted