Make Me Forget Read Online Free Page B

wore a fitted, trendy European-cut dark blue suit, a pink plaid tie, and a pair of old-fashioned Ray-Ban sunglasses. He immediately gave off an air of being dapper, quirky, and sharp as a whip all at once. So
this
was Latimer? He hardly seemed mysterious. She couldn’t imagine this man’s flamboyance being called ghostlike. He was about as obvious as a slap to the face. He peered over the top of his glasses at Harper pointedly.
    “Is this her?” he demanded of Elizabeth in a clipped British accent. Without waiting for Elizabeth to reply, he addressed Harper. “Are you Harper McFadden?”
    “Uh . . . yes.”
    His gaze dropped over her in an assessing fashion. “Well aren’t you gorgeous. I
love
that dress,” he declared, reaching to take her hand.
    Elizabeth laughed. “Harper McFadden, meet Cyril Atwater. He’s been looking forward to meeting you.”
    “Really?” Harper strained to remain polite, but realized she sounded incredulous, anyway.
    “Of course. This film is going to be spectacular. I think it’ll be a shoo-in to win at Sundance, and it might even be a dark horse for some commercial success Stateside.”
    “What film is that?” Harper wondered.
    “The one based on your story, of course,” Cyril said, looking vaguely put out by her ignorance. “Didn’t you tell her?” he asked Elizabeth sharply.
    “I don’t know anything about it. I just follow orders,” Elizabeth said. Again, Harper caught Elizabeth’s curiosity as she regarded her.
    “Excuse me, I don’t mean to seem rude,” Harper said at last. “But I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I have no idea why I’ve been invited here tonight.”
    “I’m Cyril Atwater,” the man repeated. “The
director
?” he added with a trace of annoyance when Harper gave him an apologetic look for her ignorance. She suspected he rolled his eyes behind his Ray-Bans. “I realize you Yanks have been spoon-fed tedious car chases and shoot-’em-ups since the cradle, but surely a woman of your obvious intelligence and compassion occasionally watches a documentary or film of actual
substance
.”
    Despite his acerbic tongue, a smile twitched at Harper’s mouth when he’d seamlessly switched from his clipped English accent to say
shoot-’em-ups
with a perfect cowboy drawl.
    “Can I get you something to drink, miss?” a waiter asked her over her right shoulder.
    “Yes, I’ll have a glass of chardonnay, thank you,” Harper said. She turned back to Cyril. “I’m sorry, I don’t watch many movies, either of the documentary or shoot-’em-up variety.”
    “But you must realize that the story you did on Ellie, that homeless teenager in San Francisco, would make a brilliant film.”
    “And this is why I’ve been asked here tonight?” Harper asked dazedly. Well,
this
certainly was an odd turn of events.
    “It must be,” Elizabeth said. “I asked you because Mr. Latimer requested it, but I wasn’t sure about the details.” Elizabeth glanced over at a still-bristling Cyril. “Mr. Atwater has won several major film awards, including the Academy Award last year for his documentary
Bitter Secrets.”
    “I’m not a child, Elizabeth. You don’t have to soothe any feathers,” Atwater said peevishly. Elizabeth’s upraised brows and amused glance at Harper seemed to say she felt differently. “So what do you think, Harper? Is it all right if I call you Harper?” Cyril asked.
    “Of course.”
    “Well? What do you think of letting me do the film?”
    Harper shrugged dubiously. “I don’t think that’d work, to be honest.”
    “Why not?” Cyril demanded.
    “Because it’s not just me you’d have to get agreement from, but Ellie.”
    “That’s done easily enough.”
    “But she doesn’t live on the streets anymore,” Harper explained. “She’s a waitress and attends junior college part-time.”
    “Thanks to your story, I’m sure that’s all true. I’m not planning on doing an actual documentary for this. It’d be