Page 125 of How To Plot a Payback

For me.

He is throwing down this whole idea, this opportunity, for me.

“Yes.” The word is rushed, and I feel my hand gripping the script tightly, protectively. “Yes. I’d love it. But . . . but what about Sonya? Kye?”

“Want to know a secret? Something so secret, in fact, you’ll have to promise to take it to the grave—or to the show’s finale, whichever comes first?”

His eyes dance.

“What?” I say.

Finn leans forward. His breath is hot on my ear. “Sonya is the murderer.”

“What!”

He sits back and laughs, looking exceedingly proud of himself. “I know. Frankly, I think I’ve been wanting to recast her since the day I came on the show.”

Sonya. A secret serial killer.

“It’s perfect,” I breathe.

“Should we go for it then?” Finn asks. “It’s a risk, but . . . it could be just the thing—”

“Should we? The idea of all of this is a dream.”

“Good, because it comes with some stipulations,” he says, then pulls out a red folder. “First, we’d shoot in Seattle.”

“What?”

I flip open the folder to see set location and hotel location and a bunch of other brochures spilling out of the pockets.

“We skip the trial pilot. Frankly, your names and the concept alone guarantee a viewer rating, securing us at the very least one season. We’d leave in three weeks. Sonya would be there, of course.” After a pause, he adds in a monotone, “Kye too. The staff would be the same. Same writers. Same stylists. We’d retain just about everyone—even Paula, although she’s planning to go virtual for about half the season and bring the family out the other half. Her son Liam, the seventeen-year-old you saw the other night, would be cast as a young detective. He’s over the moon at the very idea, as you can imagine. Now, I have a few apartment options to lease here, but between you and me, I’m letting you choose.” He gives a subtle smile. “Pick whichever suits you. I’ll lease it for the cast and staff.”

“So . . . we’re all literally going to be in a complex?” I say. “Neighbors in Seattle on a show about serial-killer neighbors in Seattle?”

“Correct.” He taps one of the sheets in my hand. “And if you pick this one, you reduce the likelihood that Sonya will murder us all in our sleep by 30 percent.”

“She’ll like this one?” I say, holding it up.

“It’s entirely floor to rooftop in white and there are not one but two gargoyles. So. Yes.”

Every moment my heart is beating quicker.

Every word that spills from Finn’s mouth is only getting more exciting.

I flip through a few pages, scanning the listings, then hold up a sheet with what appears to be a rooftop helicopter pad. “Yes, but you know I have a weakness for helicopter pads.”

Finn shrugs.

“Pick any of these you like. We’d only be there six weeks.”

“What?”

Finn’s voice is barely contained. “Two shoots a year. Three months each. Three weeks in Seattle. The other two and a half months on set in LA. Two months in preproduction. Three months filming. One month in postproduction. What you do with the other six is up to you.”

Instantly images of home come to mind.

Mum leafing through her latest novel by the garden gate.