Free All That Glitters by Michael Murphy

explain?”
    “William Powell mentioned it.”
    “That’s why you were staring at her bottom.” She slammed the door.
    I wasn’t winning the argument. Several minutes went by. She’d probably gone to bed. I tested the couch, five feet long. I was a tad over six. I returned to the door. “I’m sorry.”
    “You’re sorry? That’s supposed to make everything hunky-dory?”
    I lowered my voice and spoke through the door. “Speaking of William Powell, he’s even more charming, handsome, and sophisticated than he is in the movies.”
    Pause. “I suppose he is.”
    “I didn’t realize you’d met.”
    “Like I said at the party, you were in Florida.”
    I didn’t want to know about their relationship, if they’d had a relationship, but I couldn’t help myself. “Did you go out?”
    “He was married.”
    Her reply didn’t exactly answer the question.
    “Jake, don’t you dare grill me about what I did or didn’t do after you packed your bags and abandoned me!”
    “You’re right.” I’d lost the argument about Eric, the screenplay, and Christine. The last thing I needed was to add to my troubles. “You’re forgetting the good news that came from the evening.”
    Silence.
    “In exchange for agreeing to work on the screenplay, the studio is giving its full blessing to our relationship. We don’t have to pretend to be people who aren’t engaged.” That had to mean something and make both our lives easier.
    Silence.
    We’d be able to get married any time we wanted, a consideration that closed the deal for me. “Norman Carville even offered to walk you down the aisle.”
    Several minutes went by. When she spoke, her voice was filled with regret. “Maybe it was a mistake to invite you to come to California.”
    Her words felt like a sock in the gut. “Don’t say that.”
    I stared at the closed door for several minutes then went outside and sagged into a chair on the balcony. The Hollywood sign stood on the hill overlooking the hotel. I’d reserved the Hollywood Hotel expecting the view would bring Laura inspiration and luck. She hadn’t even seen it yet.
    She had every right to be sore. If I’d learned one thing about women, it was that I couldn’t fix problems through a closed door.
    I went inside, tossed my jacket on a chair beside the dining table, and scraped the stain on my shirt with a fingernail. In the bathroom, I soaked a washcloth in the sink and blotted the bloodstain. The stain faded but didn’t disappear entirely. In the morning I’d see what the hotel staff could do about it.
    Work always eased my mind. At the desk, I opened the shooting schedule to the first scene marked with a paper clip. Faith Chapman was in the kitchen baking when Christine’s character came in from an all-night party wearing a glamorous gown. Their argument was heated, and I even chuckled once.
    The scene had potential. Christine Brody and Laura Wilson throwing food at each other would make audiences laugh more than witty repartee. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to work on
Midnight Wedding
when I hadn’t even started chapter two of my novel.
    I rolled in a sheet of paper and pictured the scene that ended the first chapter. How did Blackie feel about the man with a bullet in his head? I flexed my fingers and began to type.
I disliked the man from the moment we met, but he didn’t deserve to die that way. No one deserved a bullet to the head.
    Pounding came from the wall. “Enough already!”
    I stopped typing. The clock read a few minutes past one. I sat on the hard couch and removed my shoes. I tested the unforgiving cushions and curled up. I twisted my neck to fit my six-foot frame into a five-foot space.
    The day had been long and difficult for Laura and me. I’d had more drinks than I was used to. I felt myself falling asleep. I’m not sure how long I slept.
    “Jake.” Laura’s voice startled me from sleep.
    I opened my eyes and flinched.
    She stood beside the couch. Her face was covered in cold