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“He changed all of the dialogue,” I say. “And the ending is stupid.”

“It’s a screenplay, not a book. There were bound to be differences.”

“He could’ve left some of it. You know dialogue is my thing.”

Oliver smiles down at me. “Is there anything he could’ve done that would’ve pleased you other than transcribe your book word for word into Final Draft?”19

“I’m being a brat.”

“Little bit.”

“Fine. But we’ll see who’s right when the reviews come out.”

He shakes his head, then nods into the crowd. “Here’s someone youdolike.”

Allison Smith is walking toward us, Connor’s ex-wife.20She’s wearing a yoke-collared red dress that accentuates her slim frame. Her natural hair borders her face, and her brown eyes are surrounded by the perfect smoky eye.

She’s gorgeous, and everyone in the room watches her as she walks to David and plants a kiss on his lips.

“Whoa,” Oliver says. “I did not see that coming.”

“Don’t you remember that he was at the funeral?”21

“That was him?”

“I thought you were good at details?”

“I had my mind on other things.”

“Such as?”

“The dead.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

“Oh, right. I was thinking about him, too, of course.”

And I was. I just wasn’t so distracted that I didn’t notice Allison had brought a date to a funeral.

I didn’t know who he was then, or how Allison met him. It wasn’t the time to ask. But then, at the table read,22there he was. There theybothwere. Because Allison had been hired to play the character based on her in the movie. He’d even suggested her, she’d told me at the craft services table one day with a giggle.

“Well, they’re dating.”

Oliver cocks his head to the side. “We want Allison to be happy.”

“Of course we do.”

“And she seems it. She looks marvelous.”

“She does.”

“What, then?” Oliver asks.

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious that he suggested they cast her and now they’re dating?”

“You think he’s taking advantage?”

“I think he has an agenda.”

“What?”