"Amy--"
"No."
Renee wilted into the seat cushion beside Amy on the
couch. Amy read her script while
making notations in the margins between occasional sips of
coffee. She adjusted her feet
under her, clothed as she was in her simple flannel loungers and 'Illinois'
midriff T-shirt of
white.
"Come on. It's a
movie!!"
"That's what you said last time. I
don't know what you classify as a movie, but sexual situations every
five minutes surrounded by a plot that can barely be called that is not what
I call a
movie."
Renee crossed her arms with a deep
breath. "You've been studying
that script all morning, Aims.
Don't you want to get out and do
something?"
Amy set aside her coffee mug onto the felt-bottomed brass coaster on the
antique coffee table. "Not until
I know I have it down pat. Then, and only then, I might step out to catch the bus
to the
studio."
Renee sat up. "Can I
go?"
"No."
Renee sat back again. "You have
all the fun," she
pouted.
"I can't help that. The rules of the studio prohibit any visitors," Amy said
absently as she turned the page of the
script. "Apparently Mr. Harrison
wants this movie to be
top-secret."
"I know, I know.
Geez. What a tight
ass."
Amy frowned, raising her eyes long enough to look over at her
roommate. "He is not
a 'tight ass', Renee. He takes
his job seriously, is all. Do
you have any idea how stressful it is to be Executive Producer of
a sci-fi/fantasy
film?"
Renee scoffed.
"Yeah? Well how hard
can it be to smile once in a
while?"
Amy arched an eyebrow. "You've
been looking at those pictures on the gossip mags again, haven't
you?"
Renee looked away, adjusting her crossed
arms. "So what if I
have?"
Amy sighed, turning her focus back to her
script. "I'm not even going
to honor this conversation with a
comeback. You know how
I feel about those
columns."
Renee sent Amy a sidelong glance.
"Did you know he always has an affair with the
heroine?"
Amy's throat tightened, and her eyes lost focus on the
page. Then she blinked and
purposefully made a note of something nonsensical in the
margin.
Renee adjusted her position on the couch, sitting tailor-style to face
Amy. "His last girlfriend,
Fiona?, was the heroine in his most recent Broadway performance 'Legaia'...
or something. Anyway, the only
thing was she actually married the guy she'd been engaged to during their
whole
fling."
Amy turned the page, even though she couldn't remember anything that had
happened in the scene. "Renee..."
she warned.
"And when he played the phantom in 'Phantom of the
Opera'? Guess who played
opposite? Vanessa
Heron. And guess who got intimately involved during its
run? Mr. Harrison and Ms.
Heron. Only then Mark Frasier
came on the scene – fresh from Hollywood and labeled the ‘sexiest
man on film’ – and broke them
up. I guess action/adventure
heroes are more attractive to stars than Broadway
names."
"I'm not listening," Amy said in a sing-song
voice.
"Fine. Don't
listen. Just remember that each
and every movie or musical or drama he's been in, he's gotten involved with
the heroine only to break it off once the rehearsals end, or the run peeters
out, or the lady gets too
clingy."
Amy slapped the script closed, finally raising her eyes to meet her roommates'
gaze. "So what,
Renee?"
Renee gave a one-shoulder shrug. "So, Miss Prude and Morality, I wanted to give you a heads
up. He likes his women, sure,
but he likes them
disposable."
Amy frowned with a flash of temper as she
stood. "Don't worry about
me, Renee," she snapped.
"I've got both feet firmly planted on the
ground." She strode to her room and slammed the door
closed.
Renee arched an eyebrow. "Sure,"
she called, "but I know you, Aims.
You go for these high-culture English types with their fancy accents
and their manners and charm.
He'll have you in his sheets
in less than a week." Renee
smirked when she heard a crash and a slam within Amy's
bedroom. "Just go with
it. You only live
once. Besides, it'll give you
something to talk about when you go
home."
Amy stormed from her room dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, script in hand,
purse over shoulder, scowl on face, and daggers in eyes as they glared at
Renee. "I'm going
out."
"Kind of figured you would. Chicken. Bock
bock
bacaw."
Amy slammed the front door shut. "Oooo," she growled as she strode to the
elevator. "Gossip
columns! Not giving them a bit
of privacy or a shadow of a doubt.
Just spillage of sop and exaggeration of details we don't need to
know!" Amy
fumed.
The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and Amy stalked inside to press the
button with a little more force than what was
necessary. The elevator closed
and headed down from the fourth floor.
Amy adjusted her hold on the script, glaring down at it while wishing
it could be the face of the latest gossip columnist who'd bashed a man that
worked hard and didn't get any breaks because of
it.
"Ooo," she growled again. "I'd
like to ring your neck!" And
she gave the script a little shake.
Her temper sparked hotter at the remembered comment-- "Between his
sheets in a week?!" Amy
scoffed.
Amy pressed her lips together, all the while wishing she could have brought
herself to slap Renee hard across the
face. But Renee had been her
friend for years. The elevator
dinged and opened its doors, ignoring her continued fumes and rants and raves
as she strode forward. She grunted
a returned greeting to the desk clerk/security guard and then gave a tight-lipped
nod to the doorman as he offered her a genuine "Good afternoon, Miss
Burke. Lovely
day."
It was a lovely day, sun shining and pigeons flying while dropping
their goods on unsuspecting statues and benches and the occasional
car.
Amy grabbed her temper before it had a chance to bolt away from her and took
in a deep breath. She released
it slowly as she acknowledged the lovely day, the smiling doorman, the pretty
trees outside her apartment building's front door, and the somewhat peaceful
Sunday afternoon. She gathered
another breath and then sent the doorman another attempt at a
greeting. This time she
smiled.
"Yes, it is a lovely day, Oliver.
Thank you for reminding
me."
"Having a bad day, Miss Burke?" Oliver
asked.
Amy grimaced. "A
little."
Oliver smiled. "Maybe you should
stop by the park for a little R & R.
Helps me every time. It's
a nice walk,
too."
Amy looked down at her script. "I think that's a good
idea." She lifted her gaze to meet
his. "Is there a coffee shop
on the way. I think I need a
triple."
Oliver laughed. "Yes, there
is. Red
tent. Mobile
cart. Tell Randy that Ollie
sent you. He'll give you a free
coffee
cake."
Amy smiled. "Thank you,
Oliver. I appreciate
it."
"Sure thing, Miss Burke. Enjoy your
walk."
Amy set off at an easy pace, occasionally taking the time to look at the
window dressings and displays in the shop windows on her
way. She shook her head with
another deep breath. I didn't
need to know that. She kicked
at a pebble and adjusted her hold on the
script. People had faults, Amy
knew that, but she didn't believe they should be everyone else's business.
Besides, now I'll be suspicious
and untrusting, not giving him the chance he needs to be who and what he
is. I'll question every little
thing he does or says. Amy
sighed again. Darn it,
Renee. You and those gossip
columns... and calling me a prude?
Sheesh. That's hitting
below the belt. I can't help
it if I have certain ideas on
things.
Amy wrinkled her nose as she lifted her gaze-- she halted in
shock. Sir Garret Harrison was
purchasing coffee at the red tented mobile cart that Oliver had told her
about. He paid for his coffee
and then turned away, looking both ways before hurrying across the street
to the park. Amy blinked and
began absently gnawing her lip.
She tucked a long, stray lock of brunette hair behind her ear before
hesitantly moving forward to the mobile cart for her promised triple
mocha.
She cleared her throat and dug her coin purse from her little wallet strapped
across her. "May I have a triple
vanilla mocha. No whipped cream.
Whole
milk."
"Sure
thing."
"Thank you." Amy paid for the
coffee, left a tip, and then stepped slightly away to
wait.
Amy continued to gnaw her lip as she looked toward the park while tapping
her foot. I was headed that
way anyway. Why should I not go just because I saw him head over that
way, too? Amy shook her
head and turned back to the mobile
coffee-cart. He’ll be suspicious, thinking I’m stalking
him or something. Amy wrinkled
her nose. It isn’t my
problem what he thinks.
I’m trying to get some peace and quiet so that I can study my
script and be ready for shooting my
scenes.
Amy gave a curt nod, accepted the coffee from the vender while remembering
she was supposed to have told him ‘Ollie’ sent her, and then shrugged
it off as she proceeded to the crosswalk to head to the
park. She pushed aside all plans
and plots and reasons and excuses to tell him in case their paths did cross,
and resigned herself to simply enjoying the scenery and the peace and
quiet—‘he’ll have you in his sheets in less than a
week’. Amy frowned and
pressed her lips together just as the signal turned to
‘WALK’.
“Oh for pete’s sake,” Amy murmured as she headed
across. She wasn’t a wide-eyed,
star-struck newbie to the star-studded
scene.
Amy adjusted her hand hold on her coffee and her script as she chose a trail
into the deeper section of the park.
Then, when her arms began complaining that she carried too much, she
made her way to the side and set herself down very carefully on the
grass. Renee, you did it
on purpose. You knew I would
dwell on it, thereby ruining my study time and giving you a bit of revenge
for ignoring you. Amy pressed
her lips together as she nestled her coffee in the lush grass beside her
and opened up the script. Renee
did things like that all the time, just because she knew she
could. It was a mind game she
liked to play. Push the right
button and see the reactions fly.
She’s sick, I tell you.
Absolutely
sick.
Amy sighed with a slight shake of her
head. “And I stepped into
it with all the grace of an elephant,” she
mumbled.
“Miss
Burke?”
Amy looked up at the shocked tone of the
question. She blinked, and then
she remembered seeing Mr. Harrison come this
way. He looked quite normal
in his wrinkle-free Dockers and deep red Ralph Lauren Polo shirt, his long
white hair neatly combed and occasionally tickled by the very slight
breeze. Holding his coffee in
one hand and a leather-bound volume of Shakespeare’s Hamlet made
him look anything but a
villain.
Amy offered him a smile.
“Hello, Mr. Harrison.
Do you escape here too?”
‘He’ll have you in his
sheets—‘ Amy pushed
the thought away, hiding it in the corner of her mind and stuffing a box
over it.
Mr. Harrison changed his gaze to the leather-bound book without a twinkle
in his eye or a twitch to his lips. “‘Escape’ is a bit
dramatic.”
“Yes, well I can only call the horse by its name,” Amy responded,
attempting to draw out his sense of
humor. “I don’t blame you at all for trying to hide
from everyone and everything. In
fact, I’m doing a bit of hiding
myself.” She lifted her
coffee with a twitch of her lips.
“My trusty triple mocha my only
conspirator.”
To that Mr. Harrison surrendered a slight
smile.
“Ah. Trustworthy
friends, our coffee cups and sippy
lids.”
Amy’s smile broadened. The
idea of Sir Garret Harrison saying ‘sippy lid’ nearly did her in
with laughter. She took a careful
sip of the steaming coffee as she watched him examine the leather-bound
book. Amy couldn’t tell
if he wanted to retreat or not. Up
to that point, it seemed he stormed off if he needed to be
somewhere. Maybe he’s
waiting for the
invitation?
Amy lowered her gaze as she nestled her coffee cup back into the
grass. “I have grass here,
there, and everywhere if you’re still looking for a place to enjoy your
book.” She looked up to
catch his gaze. “I promise
I don’t mumble or talk while I study,” Amy told him with a small
smile.
“While the invitation is appreciated,” Mr. Harrison said carefully,
“I’m afraid I received a call from the director a moment ago and
must return to the
set.”
“Ohh. You want to escape
but take the cell phone in case of an
emergency.” Amy gave a
slight nod.
“Right.”
Mr. Harrison’s lips twitched again.
“Yes,
well…”
“The duties of an exec are never over,” Amy finished for him, and
then she wrinkled her nose at him.
“Don’t you feel
special?”
Mr. Harrison actually chuckled. “Again.
Thank you for the
invitation.”
Amy smiled up at him, freeing her coffee from the grass to give him a fellow
coffee-lover salute.
“You’re welcome, Mr.
Harrison. Have a pleasant
day. And I hope those
‘emergencies’ settle down to give you a free moment to enjoy
Hamlet the way Shakespeare
intended.”
“Thank you, Miss
Burke.”
Amy smiled her response before lowering her gaze back to her
script. When she didn’t
hear the expected sounds of his Italian leather loafers on the cobble walk,
she raised her eyes. Mr. Harrison
continued to stand there, but this time he had gone to the chore of balancing
his coffee and Hamlet in one hand while dialing a number on his cell
phone with the other. Amy arched
an eyebrow.
“Harrison here. Regarding
the item discussed, use your judgment…” Mr. Harrison’s expression
darkened to annoyance. “If
I am required to hold your hand through each and every decision regarding
this movie, Max, then I shall find another gentleman to do the job…
I recall quite clearly what I said the other day thank you,
Max. Your question, however, is not within the realm of my
attention. Handle
it.”
Mr. Harrison pushed the appropriate button to disconnect the phone and then
tucked the itty-bitty thing into the pocket of his
‘trousers’.
Amy, ever the teasing imp, began to softly
applaud. “Congratulations,
Mr. Harrison. You have taken
the first step in controlling your own
life. What do you plan to do
next?”
Mr. Harrison stepped forward and sat beside Amy, much to her
surprise. “Stain my
trousers,” he said in a tight
voice.
Amy leaned slightly back to regard his frowning face with wide-eyed amazement
only partially real. “Well
aren’t we going all the way in the realm of adventurous
irresponsibility?”
Mr. Harrison actually positioned himself tailor-style before nestling his
coffee cup into the grass in front of him with a curt
nod. Then he opened
Hamlet to the ribbon-marked page.
“Dash it all,” he remarked sharply, “I deserve a moment
to
breathe.”
Amy chuckled and then said “yes, you do” as she changed her gaze
back to her
script.
*
Mr. Harrison replaced the ribbon bookmark within Hamlet with a deliberate
action. Amy finished her thought
on the script, nearing the ending scene of the first act of the movie, and
then changed her gaze to his profile. He is definitely a handsome
man.
“Miss Burke,” he began as he closed the book, “I want to apologize
for my attitude yesterday.”
Mr. Harrison moved his startling blue eyes to meet Amy’s
gaze. “You have been more
than civil,
considering.”
Amy smiled. “I suppose
I have, in your field of experience.
But my philosophy has always been to let bygones be
bygones. Not only that, I
shouldn’t judge a person until I walk a mile in their
shoes.” Amy chuckled as
she pointed at his Italian-leather
loafers. “I think I would
step right out of yours, so I’ll just be content with my size 7 and
leave you to your…
11?”
Mr. Harrison changed his thoughtful expression to his
shoes.
When he didn’t respond, Amy’s smile
faded. She tilted her head as
she watched his profile.
“Are you
okay?”
Mr. Harrison looked back to her with a serious
expression.
“Yes. Thank
you.” He stood to his feet
and offered her a
hand.
Amy smiled and handed him the script instead of the expected
hand. Then she stood of her
own accord while gathering her purse and empty coffee
cup. She discarded the coffee cup in the available trash, strapped
her purse across herself, and then accepted the
script. Mr. Harrison looked a little
surprised.
“Normally I would ask if you wanted to come up for a refill on your
coffee, but I don’t think you would appreciate my roommate’s
attention,” Amy said, still
smiling. “She has
less-than-glorious opinions about
you.” Amy lifted a hand,
turning her head away.
“Don’t bother saying
anything. I’ve already
told her that she shouldn’t believe everything she reads in those
papers. I’ve also
told her that you are a busy man who takes his job
seriously. Renee knows that
if she wants to say anything more, she better do so to a brick
wall.”
Mr. Harrison slightly chuckled, drawing Amy’s attention as she lowered
her hand. “I am quite familiar
with negative judgments, Miss Burke.
I doubt your roommate’s opinion shall cause any damage to my
ego. Max claims I have enough
to
spare.”
Amy laughed, then she motioned ahead down the
trail. “Well then, if you
don’t mind glares and daggers from her, you’re more than welcome
to stay for dinner.” Mr.
Harrison didn’t move down the trail, so neither did
Amy. He did change his gaze
down it, though. “Mr. Harrison,
you don’t have to come.
I’m just doing the neighborly thing and inviting
you. I understand if you don’t
want to accept. After all, you
wouldn’t want to break your own rule about
fraternizing.”
“No, I suppose I wouldn’t,” he admitted
absently. Mr. Harrison regarded
the trail a moment more before changing his gaze to
hers. “Miss Burke, thank
you again for the invitation; both of
them.”
Amy nodded. “You’re
welcome, Mr. Harrison. And call
me
Amy.”
Mr. Harrison presented his hand. Amy accepted it this
time. He gently gripped
it. “If you have
questions… Amy, don’t hesitate to
ask.”
Amy smiled. “I
won’t. Thank you, Mr.
Harrison.” They released
hands. “You have a nice
evening.”
He nodded with a slight twitch to his lips before moving away down the
trail. Amy stared after him,
still smiling, and hugged the script to her
chest. He’s a nice man,
when given the chance. Probably
has a reason to be defensive. Just
look at his life. Women throwing
themselves at him, audience demanding his full performance each and every
night, no retreat to rediscover who he is… Amy shook her head and
lowered her gaze to the cobble walk at her
feet. Poor
guy. He needs a
vacation.
Amy took in a deep with a slight rise to her shoulders before stepping forward
toward home.
*
“Well it’s about time,” Renee scolded when Amy stepped in
the front door. “I was
beginning to think you’d gotten mugged or
something.”
“Serves you right for doing what you
did.” Amy turned from the
door with an ‘I’m not talking to you anymore’ look as she
made her way for her
bedroom.
“Doing what? Telling the
truth?” Renee asked, hands on
hips.
“Repeating gossip,” Amy
chided. She closed the bedroom door behind
her.
“Oh brother.” Renee
sat back on the couch and picked up her magazine – they didn’t
have a TV – to search through for the interesting tidbits she loved
to read. “Gossip is based
on facts, Aims. Deal with
it.”
Amy emerged a few minutes later in her flannel loungers and same sweatshirt,
novel in hand. “Sorry,
no deal. Everyone deserves a
second chance to be who they are without gory details being embellished just
so that a person bored with their own life can have a bit of
excitement.”
“Ugh,” Renee complained with a roll of her hazel
eyes.
“Puh-lease.”
Amy chuckled as she sat on the other side of the
couch. “I’ll step
down from my soap box now, Ren.
Sorry.”
Renee smacked Amy’s socked feet with her
magazine. “Don’t worry
about it, Aims,” she said with a
smile. “And sorry for stepping
over the line. You know
me.”
Amy opened her book with a smirk.
“Yep.”
“Do you have to go to the studio
tomorrow?”
“Nope. Shooting doesn’t
start for two weeks, but I do need to talk to the director soon about my
final scene. I’m a little
nervous about
it.”
“I know, you can’t tell me.
Top-secret.”
Amy sent Renee a regretful smile. “Sorry,
Ren.”
Renee grimaced, not raising her eyes from the
magazine. “Don’t worry
about it. I’ll just find
out with everyone else.” And
she sounded really put
upon.
Amy chuckled. “I’ll
make it up to you.
Promise.”
“Only if you get me a date with Mark Frasier, but since he’s on
some top-secret project and you’re only a nobody in an itty-bitty
role… that won’t
happen.”
Amy’s smile
twitched.
*