22. Oliver #2
“I’m kinda stuck.”
“Are you?”
“That’s where my life is.” I ignored the voice in my head that scoffed and informed me I didn’t have much of a life. “The film industry is there.”
He nodded, sitting back as Quinn slid huge plates in front of us.
“As long as the film industry is what makes you happy, then I guess that’s that.”
I picked up my fork. “Yep.”
“Unless something else, or someone else, makes you happier. I’m sure you could figure it out.” He cut into his breakfast. “Lots of famous people live outside the bubble of Hollywood.”
Then he changed the subject.
But his words echoed in my head all day.
Life on set rolled along. Davis kept us going, one scene flowing into the next.
Sheri kept her distance, but I did notice her attempts to be nicer.
I even heard her thank a PA for something.
He covered his shock well, mumbling “no problem” as he walked away, glancing over his shoulder, unsure he had heard her correctly.
Annie sat and watched, a silent sentinel in the corner, a constant plume around her head. She spoke with Davis, used my trailer for endless online meetings, and sat in on the daily rushes. On Friday, she sat with me, eating the delicious food Quinn and her crew served us and exclaiming over it.
“You need to do more films here,” she observed.
I chuckled. “I don’t know if Davis has more planned. Richton is sort of off the grid.”
She chewed a mouthful of chicken, wiping her mouth. Kassie came over, sitting with us, adding another sandwich and more chicken to my plate with a smile.
We ate for a few moments in silence, then Annie spoke.
“Mike called me today.”
I grunted as I chewed. I hadn’t heard from him or Vic since the incident.
“He wants you back on his next film.”
I gaped at her. “He cut me.”
“He hasn’t found the right fit. He realizes he went overboard over the whole fountain thing. He wants to re-sign you. Shooting starts next month. He’ll make sure to work around any reshoots you have for Davis.”
I set down my fork. “I see.”
Annie glared at me. “What? It’s a good script. You were happy to be in it before all of this.”
“Why did he change his mind?”
“Davis let me show him a bit of the film. He thinks you’re brilliant.”
I met Kassie’s eyes and looked away. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’ll take it,” Annie replied. “This is exactly what you need. Between this film and Mike’s, you’ll be back on top. In demand. Your choice of any script.”
Kassie cleared her throat. “Sounds like a great opportunity, Oliver.”
Oliver. She called me Oliver, not Olly.
It felt as if we had suddenly taken a step back.
“We can discuss this later,” I said, shooting a glance at Annie.
“I’ll get the contract ready.”
I pushed my plate away, suddenly not hungry. Annie got up to get something to drink, and I turned to Kassie. “Sorry. She shouldn’t have brought that up in front of you.”
“Why?”
I rolled my head on my shoulders, my neck feeling tight. “Because it means…” I trailed off.
Kassie spoke quietly. “We knew this was a ‘just for now.’ I’m a big girl, and I know you’re leaving soon to go back to your world. It’s okay. I’m thrilled your time in Richton has maybe helped you.”
“My time in Richton has done more than help me. It brought me back to you.”
“And this time, we’ll part friends. All the bad stuff is in the past.”
“And we have to part?” I asked, my throat thick.
She paused, then nodded. “You have your life, and I have mine. Two very different worlds. And I have no desire to leave mine.”
I was shocked how much it hurt to hear her say those words.
“Right,” I muttered. I looked at her. “Not even for me?”
“Not even for you. I would be miserable and make you miserable. We’d end up back where we started—disliking each other.”
“I never disliked you. I hated myself for what I did to you.”
“I’d have to start over again, Oliver. I can’t do that. We have now. We agreed to now.”
I nodded and grabbed my plate. “Now. Okay. I have to go get ready for my scene. I need to get to makeup.”
I walked away before she could respond.
Kassie
Oliver’s agent was blunt. Direct. Bordering on rude at times. Yet, I liked her. I saw the way she watched Oliver. Listened to him. She cared about him, even though she pretended not to. She had insisted I stay with her to watch him film his scene this afternoon.
After our stilted and uncomfortable conversation following her announcement, all I wanted to do was go home.
Sort out my emotions and prepare to see Oliver later.
Act as though my heart wasn’t breaking at the thought of saying goodbye.
Of knowing he would leave and carry on with his life.
Be successful. Well-off. Eventually marry someone else.
But Annie was insistent, so I stood beside her as they filmed the emotional scene between him and Shawna. He told me Davis wanted it done in one take if possible, so everyone was checking and double-checking that everything was in place.
I had to look away during the filming of the powerful moment between the two actors. Both were incredible, and the emotion was intense. Oliver’s voice and posture were filled with pain as he questioned the love of his life about why she wouldn’t stay with him.
It flowed perfectly, everyone clapping when Davis yelled cut and print. He strode over to Oliver, shook his hand, and hugged Shawna. The three of them moved away, and he talked to them about something.
Annie was quiet for a moment.
“Do you know why Oliver is such a good actor? Better than most of his peers?” she asked, her dark eyes watching me closely.
“Natural talent?” I guessed.
She shrugged, blowing out a long stream of vapor into the air. There was something so forceful about her. The way she observed everything around her, her dark eyes appearing to see more than most. She listened with intent. Acted with precise direction.
She was, as Oliver had stated before, all-knowing.
I found her fascinating.
Complicated.
And I was desperate to know how she saw Oliver.
“There is that. He loves the entire process but, oddly enough, probably being in front of the camera the least. For someone blessed in the looks department, he’s kept his ego in check all these years.
” She eyed me through another cloud of vapor.
“But he has a quality many do not. One most do not see.”
“Which is?”
“No matter the occasion, no matter how happy he is, how much he has to celebrate, he always carries sadness. He understands pain. He projects that into his characters, and even if it’s funny, underneath, there is truth. Oliver’s truth.”
I blinked.
“He lost the one thing that truly brought him joy, and instead of becoming bitter or turning it into anger, he uses it to make his characters human. He feels their pain, because he uses his own.”
I didn’t know what to say for a moment. Her words were so profound. And, if I thought about it, true.
“He loved his mother very much. He was devastated when she died,” I murmured, recalling his pain and the lost look he carried for so long. It had eased but never left him.
“My God,” she breathed, shaking her head. “You as well.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You don’t see what is right in front of you.” She pointed to Oliver, who had moved away from Davis and was showing the kids his lasso tricks, making them laugh while they waited for the next scene to be set up.
“This is the first time I have ever seen Oliver without that pain.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I hope you figure it out.” She stood from her chair, frowning down at me.
“And as devastated as he was to lose his mother, he lost something far more profound than that. Losing a parent is part of life. What he lost cost him everything. And as sad as it makes me, I hope he’s able to keep it this time. ”
Then she walked away, a cloud of fumes floating around her head. She headed to Oliver and spoke to him briefly, then joined Davis, pouring a cup of coffee and sipping it, all with her holder hanging from the side of her mouth.
I frowned in confusion.
What did she mean by that?
Oliver finished his scenes, joining me by the waiting area to the side. He was quiet. Withdrawn.
“Do you feel drained after a scene like that?” I asked.
“At times.”
He continued to stare past me, his face expressionless. He looked tired.
I slid from the director’s chair. “I should go. I don’t want to be in the way, and I promised Quinn I would help clean up at the restaurant.”
He nodded, not speaking.
I stopped in front of him. “Are you angry with me?”
He met my eyes and shook his head. “No. I could never be angry with you, lovely.”
I laid my hand on his chest, and he grabbed it, holding it tightly.
“I’m not built for LA, for your lifestyle,” I murmured. “We wouldn’t work there.”
“I know.”
“You hate Richton and everything it stands for.”
“I don’t hate it,” he protested.
“But it’s not your world anymore.”
“No.”
I smiled, even as my heart broke at that one word. “We don’t fit anymore, Olly.”
He drew in a deep breath. “So, it’s over?”
“No. I didn’t mean that. Our lives are intertwined now, but they will veer off into two separate worlds when your movie ends. It’s inevitable.”
He gazed at me, his mouth opening, then closing. “I suppose it is.” He lifted my hand and kissed it. “But I will treasure this time always.”
I smiled, fighting back the tears. “Me too.”
And I turned and left.
Oliver
Annie glared at me over her glasses. “Stop moping.”
“I’m not moping,” I argued.
“You are. You have a movie ending, another starting, the whole Flynn issue is dying down, and you’re all up in your feelings and not paying attention.”
“I’m paying attention. You just told me the paper fired Flynn and is printing a retraction that our people wrote. Flynn’s out on his ass.”
“I hate to admit it, but Sheri was brilliant.”
“I told you she had talent.”
“I was thinking of adding her to my roster.”
I gaped at her. Annie hadn’t taken on a new client in ages. “What?”
“She needs a firm hand. Direction. Her current manager is a lightweight.”
“Does she know you’re thinking this?”
“No. I wanted to know how you’d feel about it.”