Page 141 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

Xander Vale

At seven in the morning, Xander sat at the small table in the hotel suite with his phone propped in front of him.

Jesse filled one square of the screen from her office, sharply dressed, her all-business-no-bullshit expression in place. Maribel occupied another, calmly rotating the notes of the shooting crisis. Nolan Price, the studio manager, looked as if he hadn’t slept in days if the dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes and wayward hair were any indication. Elliot was in the bottom square, efficient and focused like always.

“We have to control the narrative,” Maribel said. “Right now the story is escalating without us. Police have no details of the shooters. Thank goodness no one else was hurt, but people are still blaming you since you were the target.”

Xander wanted to scream. He was a damn victim. How could he be responsible for another person’s criminal actions?

“If we don’t establish stability, speculation will continue to run rampant.” Maribel picked up another piece of paper and begin to read. “The statement should be simple. Xander Vale returns to set and production on the sequel to What Breaks in Silence. Filming continues and is on schedule. Additional security measures have been put in place to ensure his safety and the safety of his co-stars and studio personnel. The attempts on his life continue to be an on ongoing investigation, and we trust the LAPD will track down all responsible.”

Xander remained composed and impassive.

He never mentioned the meeting with River Blackwell last night or the implication of Bennett Ashford’s involvement.

That’d been God’s and Cassidy’s call, that the information River had given them was need-to-know only. River Blackwell had risked his life by telling them the truth, and if Bennett or his hired men found out he’d ratted them out, he could also become a target.

If the press got a whisper of it, Bennett could lawyer up and clean house or twist the whole thing into celebrity paranoia.

So Xander sat and listened to his team tell him he needed to be seen and to keep working.

He didn’t argue.

Bennett Ashford wanted him scared, injured, or dead, whatever it took not to finish his movie.

But fear had been driving too many of his decisions, and he wasn’t going to let Bennett Ashford, the coward, control him from behind the walls of his seaside mansion.

He lifted his eyes to the screen. “I’ll be there.”

Maribel stopped speaking.

The studio executive released a long sigh. “Oh thank goodness. We can adjust the schedule and keep the first half of the day interior.”

“No,” Xander said.

Everyone looked at him.

He straightened in the chair. “We do the schedule the way Nolan built it unless security changes it. I’m not asking production to tiptoe around me. I’m not hiding in my trailer between takes so cameras can catch me looking terrified. If I’m coming back, I’m coming back to work.”

Maribel studied him, something approving in her eyes. “That’ll send a strong message.”

“It’s not a message,” Xander said. “I’m just ready to work. This is my livelihood, and I won’t disappoint the cast, crew, or the fans by postponing the film.”

Maribel added, “I’ll draft the public statement. Xander returns to set today. Production continues. Nothing defensive or panicked.”

“Good.” Xander pushed his untouched coffee away. “Then I’ll see everyone on set.”

The call ended in a scattered chorus of agreement and encouragement.

Xander pocketed his phone as the bedroom door opened behind him.

Cassidy came out dressed for the day in black jeans, boots, and a black shirt under a dark jacket.

His beard was trimmed, hair brushed back, jaw set. Apparently, all a man needed after being shot three times was amazing sex and a few hours of sleep to appear fully restored.

Cassidy stopped near the table. “You told them you’re going.”

“I am going.”