Chapter 12 Blue Con #2
“I think it’s a few things. Externally, Rho represents life beyond the crale—he’s different from everything she knows. And internally, he sees her power before she does, and that’s…appealing. When she meets Rho, she really begins to meet herself. He’s the conduit for her awakening.”
“And Noah?” said Otto. “Same question: why is Rho drawn to Ana?”
Noah was looking at AJ thoughtfully. “Also a few things,” he said.
“At first, he’s intrigued by Ana’s abilities and her…
upbringing. She places a lot of trust in him, and that kind of gets under his skin.
He’s grown up in this privileged environment, but his life is sort of…
meaningless. When he realizes he wants to protect Ana, he learns how much value there is in self-sacrifice. ”
“And what about you, Noah?” asked Otto, with a tremor of excitement. “What drew you to AJ as a scene partner when she was basically an extra?”
What a question. Their eyes met, and Noah flashed her a grin. AJ felt the cord between them thrum. Then his face became impassive. “My dog liked her.”
The crowd laughed as a clip of Ana and Rho’s first interaction rolled above their heads.
The questions were thoughtful and fun and largely about their characters. Speaking with Noah about the show was a pleasure, and somehow, being onstage made their conversation feel less artificial, not more. AJ couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Noah smile this much.
The hour flew.
“Okay, final question. I know, boooo,” said Otto, echoing the crowd. “This one has multiple parts. Part one: AJ, in ‘Horses,’ how did you come up with the climactic sequence?”
“I didn’t,” said AJ. She backtracked. “I mean…Noah had introduced this really beautiful idea a few days before—I think it was during ‘Mating Season’—about the water weavers being able to draw horses out of the waves, so I was just playing that.”
Noah shifted in his chair. “Right,” he said. “But you had been playing this game from the start of the show—the Ana Tar Doesn’t Know What Animals Are game. So I was just building off something you had done.”
Before AJ could object, Otto returned to the question. “Second part: how did you and Em coordinate on the effects if it was all improvised?”
Above, the clip of Ana running off the crale began to play. AJ felt the blood drain from her face. She still had never watched the full scene. One look at Noah confirmed he hadn’t either. Were they going to have to watch it now? In front of all these people? In front of each other?
AJ started to babble. “Em had told me Rho was up the beach about to drown, and I just…ran. There was a camera ready on a dune buggy, and Em caught the whole thing. I could picture what was happening in my mind, and I knew I wouldn’t make it, and it came to me as I knelt—right there.
After, I told Em what I’d been picturing, and I marked the place in the sand where I thought the horses should appear, and he had them added in post.”
Otto nodded. “Third part: the scene where Ana finds Rho is one of the most underrated performances on television. What was going through your head as an actor?”
“That’s very high praise,” said AJ, as an image of her younger self arrived at Noah’s inert figure, soaking wet in the sand. The sound cut out, replaced with desolate strings. Ana lunged forward, her face raw with anguish as she attempted to drag Rho from the water’s edge.
AJ watched herself kneel down and collapse, bawling on Noah’s chest. She felt disembodied, as if encountering a very real part of herself that was still living inexorably in that moment.
She glanced at Noah. He was watching their performance, his lips pressed tight against the index finger of his right hand.
Otto leaned forward expectantly. “And what were you thinking?” he prompted.
In a flash, AJ was back there, soaked, on her knees.
The sand was grainy, raised like braille messages from the brine.
Eyes, look your last, they said. Noah in her hands, in her lungs, the moment of their separation bearing down with a tidal force.
If it had been AJ, she would have choked on it.
But as Ana, such sounds broke from her as to burn the land and boil the sea.
Onscreen, AJ watched herself howl.
“Stay with me,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “That’s what I was thinking.”
Up above, Ana turned from Rho, crying into the ocean.
“And what do you remember about this sequence?” said Otto. “Noah?”
Noah had gone rigid, transfixed by AJ’s bereft form onscreen. He lowered his hand, flexing his fingers wide. “I remember everything.”
The room was silent as Rho revived, and Ana realized, and then he kissed her.
As AJ watched Noah’s thumb press against her jaw, she could feel the sensation as if it were still happening.
It was one kiss, but it wasn’t chaste; it was a kiss between two people who had had sex three times in the last twelve hours and would have gone for a fourth if not for the camera crew.
The crowd emitted an excited “Aww.”
As the clip ended, AJ looked over to find Noah staring at her with a haunted expression, and she felt their energies grasp for each other, trying desperately to connect. For an instant, AJ thought she could sense that large black mass in the throes of a terrible tremor.
Then it was gone, leaving AJ to wonder if she’d felt something or if she just wanted to so badly she was inventing things.
“It’s just so real,” said Otto, tears streaming down his face. “Thank you both so much for doing this. Your love…shaped me.”
The room shook with applause.
Dazed, AJ got to her feet, and she and Noah embraced Otto. As they turned to face the crowd, Noah’s hand found hers. Warmth surged through AJ’s body as they took a bow. When they straightened up, their hands stayed clasped. AJ looked up into his eyes.
It’s you.
Then Otto was stepping forward, inserting himself between them, and now they were each holding hands with Otto, taking another bow, while Oona aggressively snapped photos from the front row.
As the episode played out on the projector screen, Otto indicated for them both to exit the way they’d entered.
Reluctantly, AJ left Noah and retreated down her assigned stairs.
As the darkness engulfed her, all AJ could see was a ghost image of his eyes.
Holy fucking shit.
She needed air. As she made her way to the back of the auditorium, thousands of upturned faces devoured Ana and Rho’s final stand on the projector screen.
It’s just so…real.
The exit was in sight now. AJ had almost reached it when she heard someone call her name. She turned to find herself face-to-face with Eudora.
“My dear, you did a fine job,” she said, offering AJ her hands.
“You did too,” said AJ, pulling her old mentor out of the aisle. On the projector, the pilot episode of Into the Blue was kicking off an all-night marathon.
Eudora looked down at the ring on AJ’s finger. “When’s the big day?”
AJ shook her head, taking in Eudora’s familiar floral perfume. “There isn’t one yet.”
Eudora gripped her hands tightly, looking deep into her eyes. “May I ask you something?”
AJ swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Okay.”
“Is it like that?” Eudora asked, cocking her head toward the projector screen. AJ flinched.
Eudora smiled ruefully. “I didn’t think so,” she said, stepping closer. AJ could smell the Earl Grey on her breath. “You get one. One.”
The convention blurred around them. “I’m engaged,” AJ heard herself say.
Eudora shrugged. “You’re not married.”
AJ felt queasy. “What about Noah?” she managed. “Why not say this to him?”
Eudora shook her head. “I can’t get through to him. But you can. You always could.” She was squeezing AJ’s fingers now, desperate, talon-like. “It’s not too late.”
“Dorie.” Noah’s voice cut across the episode’s theme song as he caught up to them. He placed his large hand on Eudora’s shoulder. Her eyes were still boring into AJ’s. Then the old woman released her. AJ looked up at Noah.
It was always you, and it always will be.
AJ couldn’t breathe.
“I was just stepping out,” she said. “I’ll see you. Both.”
She managed a smile, then booked it out of the chapel. Outside, she gulped in the clear night air.
It’s not real, AJ told herself. Eudora was wrong. There was no one right person for anyone. The fans were wrong. Ana and Rho were fictional characters. And the sooner AJ got out of here, the sooner she’d remember that.
It was too early for stars, but a large moon hung low in the sky. AJ stepped under the nearest streetlamp and took out her phone. The closest Uber was twenty minutes away. Her thumb hovered over the request button. She was supposed to stay for a reception to mingle with the Blue Coats.
The door to the tabernacle swung open, and Noah walked out, car keys in hand. When he saw AJ, his pace slowed.
“Eudora’s getting pretty tired,” he explained. “I’m gonna drive her home.” He stepped into the pool of the lamplight where AJ stood, his height blocking the glare. As he surveyed her, his bangs swept sensuously across his brow. “Eudora didn’t say anything to upset you, did she?”
AJ waited for a tug. Nothing. Of course—they were no longer onstage. Noah was studying her with such intensity she felt almost giddy. They had arrived again at a parting of the ways. If AJ wanted to, she could end this conversation in three moves.
But she didn’t want to.
“Eudora asked about my wedding.”
“Oh?” said Noah. He swallowed. “I’d actually been meaning to ask myself—”
Her pulse was in her ears. “She asked if what I have with Brian is like what I have with you.”
Noah stilled. “She gets confused,” he said quietly. “I’m sure it was just the film.”
It’s not too late.
Noah and Allison weren’t engaged yet. And AJ…AJ wasn’t married.
“She wasn’t confused,” she said.
Eudora was right. Maybe not everyone had one person, but AJ did. The fans were right. Everything between Ana and Rho was real. And this—this was right.
This was her chance.
Noah wiped his hand across his mouth. “Look, Age—”
“You said it yourself,” said AJ, toeing the edge of the streetlamp’s halo. “I never had the guts to go for what I want. What I really want.”
Noah’s eyes were full. “Maybe you’re feeling confused,” he said calmly. “There’s a lot of history, and that last question was…And the footage. Brian is—”
“He’s not you,” said AJ. The words were out in one nauseating surge of heat.
Noah’s face went blank. A long moment passed. Then his hands balled into fists at his sides. “AJ,” he said softly. “Please don’t do this.”
“Why not?” said AJ, peering up at him.
Noah blinked. “You know why.”
AJ’s heart clanged in alarm. “Because of Allison?” she asked before she could stop herself.
At that moment, AJ realized she had never truly disappointed Noah before. The way his whole forehead shifted back, his jaw clenched. It made her feel about a foot tall.
“You just couldn’t do it, could you?” he said reproachfully.
AJ blinked. “Do what?” He was avoiding the question. “That’s not an answer.”
Noah’s eyes were joyless. “Please don’t make me hurt you.” His voice was a hush.
AJ felt ill. “Do you love her?” she asked bluntly.
Noah didn’t respond right away. He glanced toward the chapel, where Eudora was waiting. AJ watched him take a deep breath. At length, he said, “Very much.”
Pain clean as a pen line slashed across AJ’s abdomen, efflorescing through her chest like ink.
AJ nodded numbly. Yes. It had happened. He’d truly fallen for someone else, someone who had made him forget everything he thought his life had to be. Someone he was willing to try for.
No. A latent rush of disbelief welled up. “So all this,” she said. “All the cons—Risa told me they were your idea.”
Noah stared at his feet, his cheeks coloring slightly. “Fine.” He looked up. “I felt sorry for you. I know how mercenary Simmons is and…I wanted to help. As a friend. And if I’m being honest, part of me felt like this might…I don’t know. Make up for leaving all those years ago.”
AJ could not have felt more exposed if she had actually been standing before him naked.
“I can see now I confused things,” he went on. “I’m sorry. I’ll steer clear moving forward.”
AJ held his gaze, not because she was brave, but because she was afraid that if she looked down, she would not be able to keep the tears in her eyes.
“It’s my fault,” she said, marshaling the remaining scraps of her dignity. “You did help, and I’m…Thank you. And I’m—I’m glad for you. To have someone. You deserve to be happy.”
Noah nodded, glancing past her to the parking area. “Same,” he said. He clutched the car keys. “I should—”
“Yes, absolutely,” said AJ. She gave him a quick smile and took out her phone. She held her breath as he left, staring at the shape of Brian’s good luck text through a lens of tears. Then she blinked them back.
Grief could be a nebulous abyss or a hand through a glass door. This would not be an abyss. AJ would not cry. She returned Brian’s text with three of her own and joined the reception.
A week later, AJ’s payment for Blue Con arrived, for $240,000, twice the amount Molly Magnusson had negotiated. When AJ called Otto, he confirmed that Noah had asked that his fee be sent to her. AJ thanked him and hung up the phone.
In the end, she didn’t fight it. She needed the money, and Noah didn’t. Arguing would only serve to make Noah think she was trying to prolong contact with him. And she wasn’t.
For the first time in twelve years, when AJ looked down the dark, unlived expanse of her life, she did not see his star on the horizon.