Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

At least on the east coast, the sun had the decency to hit the ocean's horizon in the morning when no one had to watch. Being blinded by the Pacific's mirror right at rush hour made me understand why people around here lived in sunglasses. My eyes were going to take on a permanent squint if I had to be here much longer.

It was just another overstimulation to suffer through. The sounds, the lights, the people, the rush- everything was the exact opposite of my quiet little subterranean corner of suburbia. Writing books had more of an anonymous fame, but I had to go and make a movie and ambition required effort. These competitive awards were an exercise in stress management. It was bad enough going through the gauntlet of personal assistants and press on the red carpet, even though none of them would recognize me. The assistant my agent insisted that I have was making her way around the maze as well. I had asked her to avoid everyone and let me go through uninterrupted to my seat, but the studio had told me to make an effort so she would scamper off to the line of cameras and microphones, ask around and report back, saying ABC Sacramento would like fifteen seconds where they would invariably ask about the stars and what were they like? I'd answer, trying to vary it a little each time, and get back into the procession slowly, oh so slowly making its way to the doors.

It was tempting to stargaze, but I was here as a professional, dammit. In theory, I was their equal for this one night. My award, if I did get one, would look the same as one of theirs. It had taken me a long time to accept it, but I was good at what I did. I had to hold onto that scrap of self-esteem. Someone else had done my hair and my makeup so I looked a step above human just like them and while my dress didn't cost more than my car, I think I fit into it pretty well. The pictures that surfaced later might prove otherwise but for the moment I was happy with myself.

A hand touched my elbow and I turned to find out where Mandy would have me go next when I saw myself level with an expanse of tight white dress shirt. My eyes traveled up past the crisp bow tie, strong chin, slightly parted lips and into sparkling freshwater eyes.

Definitely not Mandy.

“I've startled you, I'm so sorry. I just saw you walking past and wanted to catch you before we were lost in the shuffle for the rest of the night.”

Hymns to his perfection formed in three-part harmony in the back of my mind, but what came forward to fall like a drunk off my tongue was “Me? Why?”

“I should start over, shouldn't I? I'm Tom...”

“I know that part. I'm not getting why you're here.”

A devilish grin appeared. “You see I have a film, just like you...”

“How much time do you think I have?” Oh no, that sounded bitchy and not at all funny like it had in my head. I was going to be memorable for all the wrong reasons.

All mirth drained from his face. “I apologize.”

His assistant appeared at his arm, trying to drag him toward one of the cameras. “Tom, they need you over here.”

“No, no, that was just my nerves,” I said, trying to salvage some dignity. “It came out wrong. Please, tell me what you have to say.”

A relieved smile blossomed on that lovely face. “I understand, not speaking my best either here. I just wanted to say very quickly that I am a big fan of yours. A Marriage of True Minds was brilliant. I'm looking forward to seeing The Exception. I've read The Second Samaritan and I wanted to ask you if anyone has the film rights yet. I would love a chance to direct it.”

Now this was too much to process. “You're a fan of mine, you know who I am, and you want to direct my next script?”

“Yes, very much so. I feel this connection to the story. I think the vision in my head, if I can get even close to recreating it, would be magnificent. I know it has to go through agents and lawyers and studios but I thought if I could speak to you, it might give me an advantage.”

“You charming bastard. I haven't sold the rights yet. If you want it, it's yours.”

His hands reached for mine. “You mean it?”

“We do have some other offers, but none as personal as this. I would love to hear about your vision.”

“Tom, really, now.”

I pulled a card out of my little beaded bag. “Call me, we'll talk.”

Tom took the card, kissed it and placed it in his breast pocket. “I will,” he said, walking backward. “Good luck!”

Mandy stared at me with suspicious eyes. “What was that about?” I don't think Mandy has that much faith in my talent.

“It was a business deal, that's all,” I answered. If she saw him too, then it couldn't have been a hallucination.

“He left an interview to run over here. He apologized like ten times before he did, but he still did.”

“That's insane.”

“So he wants to work with you?” At least someone did. I wondered how hard it would be to find another assistant.

“That's what he said. Who knows if he meant it.”

“Oh, I think he meant it. Want to hit the Fox affiliate for San Francisco?”

We didn't win. I hadn't expected to, but the hope for an upset is always there. Neither did Tom's film. At last the applause died down and it was time to leave.

“Better luck next time,” I said as he walked past.

He stopped in front of me. “Same to you. Say, are you headed to the after party?”

“It's not my style and I have to fly back east early tomorrow.” This was the furthest I'd been from home as an adult and it was thrilling and terrifying and lonely at the same time, a sleepaway camp for one.

“Me too. Any chance you're going to be at the Berlinale next month? I should know this, but I've forgotten.”

“Why should you know that?” The thought that most of my life these days was public information still made me a little uncomfortable. “Yes, I am.”

“I will call you this week, but that would be a good chance to see you again. Maybe we can meet up the day before or after? Whatever you can fit into your schedule.”

Shed-yule. A word that should not be sexy, but damn... “Sure, sounds good. We'll find a time.”

“So nice to meet you,” he said and kissed my cheek. The charming bastard kissed me. Somebody better have taken a photo. Maybe the life of an international traveler wouldn't be so bad after all.

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