Read Phoenix Falling for Free Online Page B

and think it's dreck?"
    "It's not dreck. Seth called and was impressed by your writing, but thought that my making this movie would be bad for my career. So I read the script, and realized I didn't want any part of it."
    "Why not?" she asked, expression stony.
    "You told me John Randall was tortured. You didn't mention that he was raped repeatedly, or that he fell in love with his captor."
    "I told you he was abused and tortured, which is accurate, and he doesn't fall in love with Mustafa," she retorted. "It's all going to be a lot subtler and more impressionistic than that, especially the abuse scenes. Is that why you and Seth have panicked—because Mr. Action Hero isn't ever supposed to be a victim?"
    How the hell was he supposed to answer that? He certainly wasn't going to explain his horror of being helpless, even if it was only acting.
    Tamping down his temper, he said, "I can't do the role justice. As you said, Randall is a complex man who has to show a tremendous range of emotion. I'm not the best person for that. If you like, I'll help you find someone better for the role, but I can't and won't do it."
    "You can't back out now! Everything is in place to start shooting." She glared at him. "You signed a contract, Kenzie. If you don't go through with this, I swear to God I'll sue you for your perfectly capped back teeth."
    "Sue and be damned!"
    Her face paled. "Did you agree to take the part with the idea of pulling out to torment me? What did I ever do to you to justify that?"
    "Damnation, Rainey!" he snapped, angrier with her than he'd ever been. "What have I ever done to make you think I could be so maliciously cruel?"
    "Do you want me to answer that?" she said bitterly.
    Lord, no. He couldn't bear to increase the poisonous tension in the room. Then he saw tears in her eyes. His indomitable wife, who never cried except when a script required it, was on the verge of breaking down. "I don't want to fight with you, Rainey," he said wearily. "I'm not trying to make your life difficult. I just... can't do this movie."
    She closed her eyes for a moment. "To be an actor is to be insecure. You think I don't know that? Every time we take on a role that's radically different from what we've done, it's like jumping off a cliff. But the roles that really make us grow and produce the finest acting are exactly the ones that are scariest. Though you've never played anyone quite as tormented as John Randall, I know you can do it, and brilliantly."
    "Pushing limits is all very well, but every actor has a range of things he can do, and things he can't do. I can't be John Randall. I'm not talking actor nerves, Rainey. This role is beyond my range."
    "I don't believe that. Some of your early BBC work hit the same notes needed for John Randall." She gazed at him earnestly. "You can do this, Kenzie, and I'll help every way I can. Is there any rewriting that would make you feel better about the script?"
    "Are you volunteering to remove the sexual assaults and Randall's complicated feelings about Mustafa?"
    Rainey sighed. "Those are the core elements of the story. The reason Randall is so torn when he returns home is because he's discovering more ambivalence inside himself than his rigid world view allows. Take that away, and there's no movie."
    "Then find an actor who really enjoys playing tortured characters."
    She offered a hesitant smile. "If you're feeling tortured about taking the part, you should be very convincing in it."
    Exasperated, he began to prowl the living room. Rainey had decorated the place in her own charmingly eclectic style, but it was too small. Suffocating. "You don't know what you're asking."
    "Apparently not, but it's clear from your reaction that this is way outside your comfort zone. What exactly bothers you about this story?" she asked. "Is it something personal, maybe the fact of playing a character so vulnerable when I'm directing? Or is it professional anxiety, the fear that you'll fail?"
    He didn't want her