22. Oliver #3
I barked out a dry laugh. Annie wouldn’t give a shit if it would upset me or not. She did what she wanted and represented whomever she liked. How I felt had never mattered before, and I highly doubted it did now.
“How about, I don’t care?” I responded, picking up my water and draining it.
“I thought as much.” She eyed me shrewdly. “Do you care about anything, Oliver?”
“Of course I do. But who is on your client roster isn’t one of those things. You’re probably right. She would benefit from your handling. You could steer her in the right direction.” I nodded in thanks as the server refilled my glass. “I’m sure your directness would shape her up quickly.”
“Hmph.”
I rolled my eyes, feeling uncomfortable.
We were in Toronto at a busy, popular restaurant.
The noise level was high, and I felt the stares, heard the low murmurs of recognition.
They never used to bother me this much, but I supposed I had been in the quiet of Richton for too long.
I was going to have to get used to it again, but I wasn’t looking forward to it. “Can we order?”
“Fine.”
We placed our orders, and Annie sat back, sipping her drink. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I think I’ve done all I can here.”
“Okay.”
“Davis says another ten days or so, and you’ll be done. They have some more shots and scenes with Carl and Sheri, but you’ll be free to return to LA.”
“Great.”
“I’ll have a flight booked for you.”
My stomach sank, further reducing my appetite, but I nodded. “Thanks.”
“Any chance of Kassie joining you?”
I picked up my water, for the first time in a long while wishing it were something stronger. “No.”
“Shame.”
“Why? Do you like her?” I asked.
“She seems to keep you grounded. I think she would help you.”
“She disagrees. She wants no part of my life or my world.”
“I see.”
The meals arrived, and I changed the subject, talking to Annie about the chat I’d had with Mike.
He had apologized for his temper, and we had agreed to meet when I returned.
I ate my dinner, the food tasting like ash in my mouth.
Annie showed me the schedule for the production of this film.
“Davis is aiming for a six-month release. I’ll make sure your schedule is clear for any publicity.
You should have wrapped the next one by then too. ”
“Okay,” I agreed easily, not really caring.
“I have a couple of scripts for you to look over as well.”
“Sure. Send them.”
“One is a romantic comedy. I think you’d do well. The script is tight—well written with lots of banter.”
“Of course,” I replied with a tight smile. “My specialty, right?”
“The other one is a Davis project. A book adaptation. Interesting. He’s thinking of returning to Canada for it. Somewhere out west in the mountains for the scope. He’d like you to read for the lead.”
That one at least sounded interesting. And I knew I’d like to work with Davis again.
“I’ll read it.”
We finished dinner and headed outside, waiting for the valet to bring around my car. Annie was going on to another meeting.
“I’ll see you back in LA.”
I bent and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for coming, Annie. For everything.”
She nodded and tilted her head. “Worlds can change. Remember that.”
I watched her walk away, unsure what she meant.
The following week, Davis sat down next to me, offering me a tired smile.
“Almost done,” he observed. “You’ve got two more scenes, and you’re free.” He rubbed his temples. “I assume you’re not sticking around for the wrap party next week?”
“No. Annie needs me back in LA.”
“And what do you need, Oliver?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Do you need to be back in LA?”
“Yes. I have meetings. And if it goes well, then rehearsals. Luckily, most of the film is being shot on the studio lot with only a few outside scenes. It’ll be private.”
He nodded. “Do you ever stop and think about what Oliver the person needs?”
“I need to work. I like working.”
He rubbed his chin. “Right.” He shifted in his chair. “Haven’t seen Kassie around much.”
“She’s busy with her accounting business. Plus, the pie thing. She’s on the go constantly,” I said, keeping my voice even.
It was the truth. She was always baking or had her head bent over her keyboard as she worked on whatever it was she did for clients.
All I knew was it was far more involved than I could fathom.
We had dinner when we could, and I still spent time with her, but things were different.
We were no longer together the way we had been.
We were transitioning to friends again, and I knew I had to let it happen.
But I hated it. I missed her. Missed the intimacy between us.
Missed waking up with her. Feeling her arms around me.
I had no idea how I was going to say goodbye to her.
Leave her behind. Simply the thought of it caused an ache in my chest that throbbed.
But if friendship was what she needed, I would do that. I owed her that, at the very least. I would leave Richton on a good note, knowing Kassie would still have her life after I left.
What I was going to do without her was another question.
Davis spoke again, interrupting my musings.
“I live in San Fransico.”
“Oh,” I replied.
“I moved there four years ago.”
“I see. Great city.”
“It is. I have freedom there. A real life. I like having that separation—some privacy.”
“That’s…great,” I repeated.
“Yep.”
He stood and smiled. “It took me a while, but I figured out my priorities. And I realized that sometimes, what seems impossible is, in fact, very possible.”
I was totally confused. “Right.”
He studied me for a moment. “If things change for you, call me. I would love to work with you—and not just in front of the camera. I think you’d make an amazing director, and I would be happy to mentor you.”
I was stunned. “Thanks, Davis.”
“You have good instincts. I watched you direct yourself. Subtle changes that made things even better on film. That’s a talent. If you decide to explore that talent, call me.”
He strolled off, leaving me alone and once again mystified.
Everyone was talking about changes. Choices.
I didn’t really have any, did I?
I picked up Wong Man, knocking on Kassie’s door when I got home. She answered, her smile warm, but her expression was one of restraint—and it always seemed to be there now.
“Hi,” I greeted her. “Have you eaten?”
“No. I was just finishing some paperwork.”
“May I come in? I’ll share.”
“Of course.” She stepped back, and I walked past her, stopping briefly to press a kiss to her warm cheek.
I would have preferred her mouth, but that seemed to be off-limits the last few days.
There was a divide between us. A shifting of our relationship, and I was smart enough to know that it was due to my leaving soon.
And that there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I followed her to the kitchen, grabbing glasses and cutlery as she took out plates and unpacked the bag.
“Did you bring enough food?” she teased.
“I won’t get this again until the next time I visit,” I said without thinking.
We were quiet as we helped ourselves to the delicious food from the various containers.
“Will you?” she asked.
“Will I what?” I replied, twirling the spicy beef noodles with the chopsticks.
“Ever come visit?” She met my eyes. “I mean, why would you come here?”
“To see old friends.”
“Ah.”
“To see you,” I added, finally getting the words out.
She shook her head. “I don’t expect anything from you. We agreed to being together while you’re here. I don’t want promises of something that is no good for either of us.”
“Why isn’t it good? We’re great together.”
“As a temporary thing. You have a vastly different life. Glamorous and busy. Another film that Annie said would make you a huge star again. Maybe even bigger than before. You’ll be busy. I’ll be here, baking pies and doing taxes. I can’t compete.”
“I don’t want you to compete.”
“What do you want?”
“Is there no possibility for us?” I asked, laying down my chopsticks.
“No.” She shook her head, her tone gentle.
“I’m not leaving Richton. Your life is thousands of miles away.
If we tried, one or both of us would be hurt.
Can’t we just keep things as we agreed and remember this time as something special?
” She met my eyes, hers pleading. “I can’t go through that again, Olly.
I can’t sit and wait for you, knowing you’ll never come.
Reading about your life in the papers and putting mine on hold.
Don’t ask me to. I want to part as friends this time. No promises and no pain.”
Her words stunned me, even as I recognized the truth. We were now. Not forever. In fact, I was certain now was done. The next while, we would be friends. No longer lovers. That was what she needed. And I had to give it to her.
But she was wrong on one thing. Leaving her was going to hurt. More than I expected.
I swallowed the thick feeling in my throat.
“Would my friend ship me some pies on occasion?” I asked lightly.
She smiled, even as her eyes became glassy. “I think we can arrange that.”
“Maybe some of this chicken,” I added. “Dry ice would keep it fresh. I’ll pay overnight shipping.”
She shook her head. “Spoiled actor.”
I grinned and winked at her. “Perks of the job.”
She smiled and went to refill her water glass. I reached inward and found the actor in me, determined to be what she needed for the next while.
Olly, her friend.
If I managed to pull it off, it would be the performance of a lifetime.