“I can’t believe we’re having this same argument again.” Kyle said in exasperation.
Brett’s glance didn’t waver. “We’re not having an argument. We’re having a discussion.”
Kyle throw up his hands in frustration, turned and stormed away. He walked over to the condo’s window trying to calm himself.
He and Brett had truly lucked out when they found this place overlooking the San Bernardino Valley and close to all the studios. What more could a screenwriter and a director want or need.
Well he knew what this screenwriter needed. Commitment. He turned around at the jingling sound of keys being picked up.
“Where are you going?” He whispered, hurt evident for anyone to hear.
Brett stood still for a second. “You know it’s my weekend at Wasserman.”
He watched as the hurt in Kyle’s hazel eyes turned to the slow burn of anger.
“We’re in the middle of something important and of course you’re going to race off and take care of strangers rather than take care of us.” Kyle snapped.
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