Free Smoke and Shadows by Tanya Huff

hear his pulse pounding. Trouble was, he couldn’t think of a way to say them that wouldn’t make him sound like a desperate heroine in a bad romance novel. Not that he read bad romance novels or anything. It was just something that he thought a desperate heroine would say because it had been eighteen months, for fuck’s sake, and Henry saw him now as a person, an individual, and surely that meant they could—all right, he could—act like an adult and not fall back into need at the feel of teeth through skin.
    The moment lengthened, stretched, and passed.
    Henry smiled. “Good night, Tony.”
    â€œYeah . . .”

    â€œIt’s a great piece of music, Zev, pretty damned near perfect, but you know CB won’t pay much for it.”
    â€œNot a problem. It’s a local band; they’re desperate for publicity, and I can get the rights for little more than a screen credit.” The music director glanced up and smiled as Tony came across the office. By the time he reached Amy’s desk, Zev’s smile had slipped slightly. “Are you all right? You look . . . tired.”
    â€œJust didn’t get much sleep last night. All I have to do is hang on until lunch, then I can catch some zees on the couch in Raymond Dark’s office.”
    â€œCatch some zees?” Amy snorted. She slid the headphones off and passed them back to Zev. “Do people actually say that?”
    He shrugged. “Apparently.”
    Before Tony could get up enough energy to wave a finger at the two of them, the door to CB’s office opened and Barb emerged looking pale.
    â€œYour turn, babe,” the company’s financial officer muttered to Zev as she passed the desk. “Word of warning, if you want him to spend money, he’s in a mood. Play this wrong and you’ll end up humming the score yourself.”
    Amy raised a hand as Barb disappeared into her office. “I can help. I used to play the kazoo!”
    â€œEveryone used to play the kazoo.”
    â€œIn a marching band?”
    â€œOkay, that’s different.”
    â€œSero!”
    The three of them winced in unison.
    â€œOur master’s voice,” Amy whispered dramatically. “Good luck. Vaya con dios.”
    â€œTracht gut vet zain gut.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œThink good and it will be good.”
    â€œSERO!”
    â€œYeah, you just keep thinkin’, Butch. In this particular situation, I’d push the free in free band.” Amy watched Zev until the door closed behind him then turned her attention to Tony. “He’s right. You look like crap. Hot date?”
    He sighed. “Weight of the world. Wasn’t your hair pink yesterday?”
    â€œFuchsia. And that was then. What do you want?”
    â€œTina sent me in to see if they . . .” A nod toward the closed bull pen door. “. . . have spit out something like the final rewrite of next week’s script.”
    â€œYou’re in luck.” She lifted a file folder off the stack of assorted papers on the floor beside her desk and handed it over. “Hot off the press. I’d have sent it in with Veronica, but she’s dropping a deposit for our next location shoot off at the city manager’s office. And then getting coffee.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with the pot in the kitchen?”
    â€œThe writers emptied it again. What do you mean, ‘weight of the world’?”
    â€œThings on my mind.”
    â€œLike?”
    â€œI don’t remember.”
    â€œYou need more B vitamins.”
    â€œI need . . .” He stopped, ran a hand up through his hair, and exhaled explosively. “I need to get back on set.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “Before something happens.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThat’s the part you didn’t say. Before something happens. What’s going to happen?”
    â€œAnswer the