Chapter 30 Drew
Drew
Thandie: Are you friends with Harrison now?
Drew: No? Why?
Thandie: I just saw him.
Thandie: He told me to pass on a message, so I thought you’d bonded over photos or something?
Drew: What was the message?
Thandie: It’s a photo. Wait, let me send it.
Drew nervously watched the three dots until a photo arrived.
He opened it to reveal a photo of Harrison at a party.
He was posing with Klaus Lindberg, the guy whose dad owned Zeus.
As Drew examined the photo, he realized it had been taken at the New Year’s Eve party they’d all gone to.
He didn’t know what rattled him more: the fact that Harrison might actually be able to leverage his apparent friendship with Klaus to get what he wanted, or the fact that he’d sent the message through his sister to try to intimidate him.
It was unnerving, but he refused to let Harrison’s taunts get to his head. So, he told his sister it was just an inside joke and tried to hatch a plan to deal with all of his problems without anybody getting hurt.
He knew he needed to talk to Thandie about Ari and make sure Harrison didn’t get in the way of his sister’s shot at a big brand deal.
But the problem his mind kept wandering back to was the email burning a hole in his pocket.
There was no denying it anymore: Drew wanted to go back to college.
The email had unlocked a wave of feelings he’d spent the past three months doing his best to repress.
But the more time he spent running back and forth across the Village, the more he missed doing this kind of work in LA.
After photographing a pair of figure skaters at practice that morning, he’d gone to the camera shop to get his first few rolls of film developed.
He was pleasantly surprised by how well they’d turned out.
The photos of Luiz showing him around the press office.
The shot of Hans Leitner telling him stories in the chairlift.
And the stills of Ari looking out at the sunrise and then smiling over at him.
He knew he could take his camera anywhere in the world and still get to do what he loved.
But as he leafed through the photos, he realized that he was probably never going to get the opportunity to capture photos like this, or the ones he’d taken at college, if he stayed in Wisconsin.
“Can I get these scanned and digitized?” asked the familiar voice of a man who’d just walked into the shop. Drew looked up; it was Hans Leitner carrying a whole bag of film rolls. He looked stressed out.
“Busy week?” Drew said as he looked at the rolls of film the woman behind the desk was starting to organize. Hans shook his head and let out a heavy sigh.
“Midproduction chaos, you know how it is.”
Drew did not know how it was. The only documentary he’d ever worked on was a student film. But he was curious, so he asked Hans about it.
“My unit photographer quit yesterday,” Hans explained. “He got booked onto a big streamer gig and fled to their studios overnight. Left me for a Hollywood check and some C-minus A-listers, but what can you do?” Hans shrugged as if something like this wasn’t that unusual.
It made sense. Hans had one of those deeply respected careers that translated to Academy Awards, not box office hits.
His productions had gotten the reputation of being like apprenticeships for people on their way to greatness.
Aspiring filmmakers worked with Hans for two years, learned a lot, got introduced to a variety of interesting people, and then left to become the next big thing.
“So, are you flying someone new in to finish the job?” Drew asked, intrigued.
“No, one of my ADs is going to do it for the rest of the week. But we still have three months before we wrap production. After this we go to New York, Toronto, and London. So now I have to go through the entire hiring process again.” Drew was about to ask more, but Hans’s attention shifted.
“Are these yours?” Hans asked, spotting the photos Drew had laid out on the table.
“Yeah, wait, let me show you my favorites,” Drew said, eagerly shuffling them around.
He wasn’t one of those people who hated showing his work, because he’d learned to detach himself from the final product.
Drew saw himself as a messenger, someone who noticed beautiful things and had made it his responsibility to capture them.
So, whenever a photo came out well, he put it down to the subject, not him.
Hans leafed through the photos and then pushed three forward.
One of Ari seated in the middle of the curling arena surrounded by a sea of leftover flags and paper cups.
Another of his grandparents jumping up to cheer Thandie on at one of her games.
And then, to his disappointment, a photo of Harrison glaring into the camera as he lifted his snowboard.
“These ones are very good,” Hans said, his voice neutral. “What are you doing when the Olympics end?”
“I … I don’t know,” Drew admitted, wishing he had a better answer for the man he so desperately wanted to impress. Hans just nodded and walked back over to the front of the store.
Drew wanted to ask him questions, seek out advice, but Hans had moved on, already deep in conversation with the woman behind the desk.
So instead, he unlocked his phone and looked up the website for Hans’s production company.
Just as he’d hoped. The job ad was already up.
Junior unit photographer, six weeks, in New York, Toronto, and London.
The contract was due to start at the start of March and end in the middle of April.
Just two weeks before the start of the spring term Drew knew he couldn’t reenroll for.
Working on a Leitner documentary would give him more experience than a whole year at college.
But as soon as the idea came up, Drew’s brain began to list the reasons why he shouldn’t even apply.
A lot could change with his grandma’s health in six weeks, and it felt irresponsible to be traveling back and forth when they already had medical appointments booked back home.
But even that was getting ahead of himself.
Drew had taken three, in Hans’s words, good photos.
That wasn’t enough to get a job on the set of a big documentary.
So, Drew closed the tab, waved Hans goodbye, and left the camera shop. Because he had a date to get ready for.
It was two days before Valentine’s Day. But Ari’s final preliminary game was on the fourteenth, so they’d agreed to make this pre-Valentine’s dinner their final date.
Her plan was to post a photo of them online after the date, as an official hard launch to seal the coffin on her and Harrison’s relationship.
When she’d brought it up, Drew had agreed to avoid sparking suspicion.
But he knew he needed to do whatever he could to prevent Ari from posting them as a couple that night.
Thandie couldn’t find out that way; she would burn him at the stake if she learned about it on Instagram.
Plus, Harrison’s threat still loomed over him.
Drew didn’t believe he would actually follow through; he seemed like a pretty spineless guy.
The knowledge that Harrison could sabotage things made Drew nervous, but not nervous enough to risk telling either of the women in his life the truth in the middle of their competitions.
The conversation would end badly no matter when he spoke to them.
So, he decided that the smartest plan would be to postpone them both until the closing ceremony.
That way, everybody could be mad at him after the most important games of their lives.
So, after getting through that day’s list of photo shoots, he returned to his hotel room and changed into a date-night shirt and blazer. He splashed on some cologne and then grabbed his oversized, waterproof extreme-winter coat. It was still six degrees Fahrenheit outside, after all.
The restaurant they were going to was one of Luiz’s recommendations, and when Drew walked in, he could immediately tell why he’d had to sweet-talk the ma?tre d’ to get a table that night.
Verliebt was a beautiful, exclusive restaurant full of elegantly laid tables and Michelin-starred chefs.
With modern chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and ambient lighting setting the mood, it oozed luxury.
But the most eye-catching feature of the restaurant was the view.
It was on the thirtieth floor of a building in the middle of the Olympic Park, and one of its walls was a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out at a breathtaking mountain-lined view of the Village.
Verliebt was fancy as hell, but it had a warmth to it that made him feel at ease.
The tables were filled with couples having romantic date nights and old friends seated around meals bustling with laughter and conversation.
It was both laid-back and romantic, the perfect place for a first date.
Or in Drew and Ari’s case, a final fake date.
It was also, conveniently, full of athletes.
He knew Ari wanted to put the final nail in the coffin of the rumors about her and her ex, and this looked like the perfect place to do it.
While most of the athletes were out of uniform, wearing nice dinner outfits, the dietitian-approved meals and competition talk gave them away.
Drew was playing a game of guessing what sport each athlete played when Ari walked in.