The Director's Cut Read Free

sinks. I can’t stand the idea of seeing him on set and not being able to spend time with him alone.
    “That’s why we’re leaving the UK for a time,” James concludes.
    What?
    “Leaving the UK?” My voice is clear confusion. Is he suggesting we run away together?
    “I’ve made preliminary arrangements,” James is saying as my mind races around what he means. “We’ll fly a skeleton crew out tomorrow.”
    “Wait. James. What exactly are you suggesting?” The words come out more primly than I mean them to, and James gives a half -smile at my tone.
    “We’re due to film a few scenes on location,” he says, “for part of the movie. There’s a part where Grace travels to Europe to report on a story. Remember that?”
    “Um. Yeah.” I let the script run through my brain. My character, Grace, is reporting in Spain at one point. But I hadn’t considered it would involve actually shooting on location. I thought they’d just mock it up with sets.
    “ So,” says James patiently, “I’ll rejig things. Bring those scenes forward.”
    “Rejig things?”
    “We’ll be starting the location shots in Barcelona tomorrow,” he explains. “That will give us a chance to lose the paps.”
    Barcelona! I love the idea of returning to Spain with James. My mind swims with possibilities. Then practicality sets in.
    “Won’t they follow us out there? ” I say uncertainly. I’ve seen plenty of pictures in magazines taken of celebrities on beaches. Paparazzi seem to go wherever it takes to get their shots.
    “That’s why I’m announcing the divorce,” says James. “Playing the paparazzi involves strategizing. Like chess,” he adds with an unreadable expression. “You set up scenarios to force your enemy to make false moves.”
    I could be wrong. But it seems as though he might enjoy this. The game of playing the paparazzi.
    “So… you think the divorce will send the paps elsewhere?” I guess.
    James gives a curt nod.
    “I hope so. That’s the way I’ve devised it. Madison will stay here in London,” he explains. “So the papers have a good story on their doorsteps. Heartbroken mega star. Madison will ramp up the sob story,” he adds, catching my expression at the last part. ”She knows how to play it. She’ll walk around London wearing dark glasses, looking sad. Then in a few days, she’ll be seen in a restaurant with one of her dancers. The media will explode. She’ll ride the publicity wave, right into her next big movie deal.”
    I’m staring at him nervously. It seems complicated, this strategy of feeding the press scenarios. But James seems to take it in his stride.
    “You’re good at this,” I say slowly. “Playing the press.”
    “I’m a director , Issy,” he says. “My job is setting up scenes to tell a story. This is just another scene. Another story. The only difference is my audience are photographers.”
    “But won’t they guess?” I ask. “Won’t the newspapers work out that it’s all fake?”
    “Tabloids don’t care enough to delve too deeply into the facts of a great story,” says James. “All they want is to sell copies. If I’ve played it right, then they’ll do the math. They’ll figure it’s a better deal to go after a certain story on their doorstep than pay last minute airfare and risk getting nothing.”
    “That sounds… clever,” I concede. “Will it work?”
    James thinks for a moment. “I’ve a lot of experience with the press,” he says. “I’d like to think I can strategize one step ahead. But you never can say for sure.”
    I consider this. It’s like cat and mouse.
    “ You think, most likely, they’ll leave us alone?” I ask.
    “Yes.” James steps forward and cups my face in his hands. “I do. For one particular reason.”
    He kisses my nose.
    “What’s that?”
    “You,” he says. “I can’t bear to think what I would have to do to a re porter who wrote anything bad about you.”
    I think he’s joking . But only just. I give