Author’s Note: I was requested a while ago to write
an Aeris/Sephiroth fanfic. While I cringed at the time, the challenge of doing
what I believed had no basis in the game or in the imagination wouldn’t let me go.
So I set to work trying to figure out how in the world I would get those two
romantically entangled. This is the only way I could come up with.
If you like this story, I hope you’ll read my others:
FF4) Rydia: Daughter of Mist; FF6) Terra, Ace of Diamonds, Adventures of
Youth, Shadows of the Past, Heart of the Veldt; FF7) Helping Hands, A Rose by
Any Other Name; FF8) Bookworms and… Booya!
Enjoy! Mint
*
"Amy–"
"No."
Amy turned the page of her novel and adjusted her feet on the flower-print couch as she took another sip of her coffee.
"But–"
"No."
Amy curled a lock of wavy, light brunette hair around a finger, absently nibbling on her lower lip as she read. She was comfortably dressed in gray sweats and a pale pink T-shirt that said ‘N.Y.U’ on the front left quadrant. She wore white crewsocks with pink toes and heels and had her house-slippers beside her on the floor. Amy was the picture of repose. Her roommate on the other hand tapped her fingernails on the bar counter of the kitchenette in their small apartment. She changed her hazel eyes back to the newspaper, picked it up to get a closer look, and slapped it down before turning and facing the occupant of the couch.
"Amy, it’s a movie!"
Amy’s green eyes lifted briefly from the novel, it was quite thick, and met the hazel ones of her roommate. "I told you I wasn’t going to go to another one of those – whatever you want to call them – again."
The roommate frowned. "I’m sorry about the last one. I didn’t know. I swear."
Amy lowered her eyes back to the book and took another sip of coffee. "I accept that, I guess, but I’m not going to another one. I’m not meant to be–"
"Don’t be silly," the roommate scoffed. "Of course you are! And this could be it. Really."
"That’s what you said last time, Renee."
Renee rolled her eyes and lifted her hands into the air. "This is the last time. I promise," she finally said.
Amy lifted her eyes, gauged her roommate’s serious and pleading expression, and then lowered her eyes back to her book. "Let me finish my coffee."
"Yes!" And Renee disappeared into one of the small bedrooms to change.
Amy sighed and turned the page.
*
When the girls saw the long line of people, they knew their chance was slim to none. Renee, however, refused to be daunted and pressed onward, going so far as to even bully her way through and into the office. Amy had given up protesting a long time ago. Instead, she allowed herself to be dragged along, apologizing to those pushed aside.
Finally, Renee had the location she wanted and they settled to wait.
"This is so exciting," Renee said, smiling.
Amy sighed as she looked around the office. Excitement had worn off weeks ago. Now she only wanted to go home. Her real home in Illinois. New York City didn’t fascinate her anymore… Amy arched an eyebrow when she thought she heard raised voices come from the inner office. Renee tugged on her arm and Amy absently stepped forward. The mumbles and voices were heard again, but she couldn’t make them out. It was definitely an argument, but… Another tug, another step. Amy gave a startled jolt and a blink when the door of the inner office slammed open and a tall, athletic figure of a man with long white hair and a startling profile strode from beyond. He halted at the threshold of the office and turned, a hand lifting to point an accusing and threatening finger at the man within.
"If you truly want me in this production, then you will rethink your decision regarding her," the man with the white hair said in a crisp English accent. "I refuse to work with the trollop."
"Harrison," the other man said, arms outstretched, "she’s the only one that can handle the role."
"Bah!" ‘Harrison’ gestured behind him without looking. "I wager I could find at least five young women more apt to the role than Fiona."
"I still say an inexperienced actor can’t handle it."
"And a woman with the morals of a Madam can’t be expected to portray innocence," Harrison countered harshly.
The man pressed his lips together in a thin line as a blood vessel suddenly appeared on his forehead. "Harrison—"
"If I don’t have the final say on the cast, Max," Harrison threatened in a low tone, "then I walk. This is your last warning." He turned sharply and headed toward the exit of the main office, navigating his way through the dozens of occupants.
Amy watched his escape with wide eyes. "It’s Garret Harrison," she whispered to Renee.
"Who?"
"Sir Garret Harrison. From the Royal Shakespeare Company." Amy sent Renee an annoyed glare. "Don’t you know anyone outside of People or The Enquirer?"
"From where?"
Amy placed her hands on her hips. "Oh for pete’s sake."
Renee’s eyes went up over Amy’s head, and her mouth dropped slightly open. Amy arched an eyebrow and then cast a careful glance over her shoulder. ‘Sir Garret Harrison’ was standing directly behind her.
Amy flushed and turned full around. "Oh. I’m sorry," she told him. "Am I in your way?"
Mr. Harrison didn’t respond. The scowl didn’t vanish from his face, either. He only motioned to her folder and asked, "May I?"
Amy looked down at her hands that held her portfolio, measly though it was, and handed it to him. "Of course," she said calmly.
Mr. Harrison opened the folder and briefly glanced through it, occasionally raising his eyes to scrutinize her face and seemingly how she carried herself. Then he slapped the folder closed, stalked to the man still standing in the doorway of the inner office, and smacked the folder against his chest.
"Her."
"What? Harrison, you can’t–"
"Don’t push me, Max," Mr. Harrison said in a dangerous voice. "It’s her or I wash my hands of this picture."
Then he strode from the room. All eyes focused on Max as he scowled after Mr. Harrison. Finally, Max moved those hard silver eyes to Amy. "Congratulations, young lady. You’re now Aeris Gainsborough."
Renee squealed. Amy just blinked.
The sets were huge. Amy could tell
immediately that the movie must have been on the scale of Gone With the Wind
or Titanic. Several lots
specifically set aside for special effects had hinted at that. When she’d received a copy of the shooting
schedule, she’d seen even more proof.
Special effects and cinematics were going to carry the movie.
Amy stopped and turned a full circle as she took in the sights of cables,
lights, scaffolds, cameras, people, sets, and so many other things. "Oh my," she whispered under her
breath. And she felt that was an
understatement.
"This is Mark. He will be playing
the role of ‘Cloud’. You’ll be doing
most of your scenes with him."
Amy flushed and hurried to catch up with the director. She came up to a man with blonde hair, blue
eyes, and an athletic build. She smiled
and extended a hand. "How do you
do? My name’s Amy Burke. Nice to meet you."
"Mark Frasier. Hi." He looked to the director. "And we’ve got to do something about that
name. ‘Cloud’? You’ve got to be shitting me."
The director ignored him. "You’ll
meet ‘Tifa’ later. Her role will be
played by Vanessa Heron."
Amy’s eyes widened as she looked to the director. "The Vanessa Heron?
From Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables?"
Mark chuckled and put a fist on his hip.
"Hey. Where’s my
wide-eyed look of wonder?"
The director laughed. "You think
your action flicks’ll rate you one of those?"
The director shook his head.
"Come on, Miss Burke-- Oh, never mind.
Here comes Harrison."
Amy turned. Sir Garret Harrison’s
stunning good looks were hardened with an intense expression, and his blue eyes
were angry and annoyed.
"Is he always in a bad mood?" Mark asked.
"Only recently," the director muttered.
"A woman."
"Ah."
Amy took a slight step forward.
"Good morning, sir," she said with a genuine smile.
Mr. Harrison halted and faced Amy.
"Miss Burke, it isn’t necessary for you to bow, scrape, and smile. You have the role. Now do your best in the performance of it."
Amy’s smile vanished as she blinked in shock. Before she could say anything, Mr. Harrison moved forward to
stand opposite Mark and the director.
"Where is Vanessa?"
"She had issues with her wardrobe and went to take it up with--"
"Blast," he hissed. "Am I to be
surrounded by amateurs and infantile prima donna’s?"
The director’s face hardened.
"Harrison, don’t be a damn ass.
We’ve got a hell of a good cast here, even with your questionable
contribution of Miss Burke. The last
thing we need is your attitude. Suck it
up."
Mr. Harrison said nothing in response to that. He only turned and addressed Mark and Amy. "As you may or may not realize, my name is
Garret Harrison. I am both the
Executive Producer and the character named Sephiroth. I do not answer to ‘Lord’, ‘Sir Harrison’, ‘dude’, ‘boss-man’, or
any variations of the kind. You will
either call me ‘sir’ or ‘Garret’ or ‘Mr. Harrison’ or simply ‘Harrison’." He sent Amy and Mark both an intense
frown. "I have certain expectations of
my cast and crew, and they are as follows: 1) No parties on days of or days
before your scenes are scheduled to shoot; 2) No fraternizing outside
rehearsals of scenes; 3) No drugs, alcohol, or other substances allowed on
premises or near your person during the shooting schedule. If you are even suspected, you will be
dismissed and a replacement found; 4) No tardy arrivals and no missed
days. If you are scheduled, you are
here; 5) Scripts will be memorized when shooting commences. Understood?
Good. Then we will see you
bright and early in two weeks."
He turned to go. Amy followed after
him. "Mr. Harrison?"
Mr. Harrison sent an annoyed frown her direction. "What is it?"
"I hoped I could meet with you regarding my role."
He halted and fully faced her. "The
interpretation of the role, Miss Burke, is your responsibility."
Amy nodded. "I realize that, but
you’ve so much more experience on stage.
I hoped you could let me know if what I’m wanting to portray is coming
across."
He regarded her with what Amy could only call suspicion. Before she had a chance to say anything, he
‘put her in her place’. "Miss Burke, as
I told you before, I will not tolerate obvious attempts to gain my favor. They only irritate me."
"I’m not," Amy protested.
But he’d turned to stride from the building. Amy frowned and put her hands on her hips. Then she smiled and gave a shake of her
head. I suppose it did come across a
little more pathetic than I wanted.
I’ll have to work on that.
And Amy decided to consider their conversation Lesson number one.
"Miss Burke? Shall we?"
Amy turned back to the two men and sent them an apologetic smile as she
approached. "I’m sorry." She motioned over her shoulder. "I suppose I deserved that. I always come across as a brown-noser. I don’t mean to."
Mark laughed as he and the director walked on either side of Amy. The director sent Amy a reassuring smile,
brief as it was. "If you have any
questions about anything, Miss Burke, I would suggest you don’t go to Mr.
Harrison directly. He doesn’t have the
patience."
Mark gave her arm a nudge. Amy
changed her focus to the young man with the pretty blue eyes. "I’ll help with your lines and stuff. I’ve been in loads of movies."
"Mark," the director warned.
"Thank you," Amy told him, "but I’m sure I’ll be okay."
Mark shrugged with a slight smirk as he looked away. "Just wanted to help."
The director scoffed. Amy hid a
smile with a clearing of her throat.
"And I appreciate it," she said, serious enough to be truthful. "But I think I’ve been in enough off-Broadway
performances to get the job done well enough."
"Off-Broadway, huh?" Mark asked as he examined her profile. "Hmm.
I did commercials for condoms and cereal before landing my first big
break."
Amy laughed. "What a combination!"
Mark chuckled. "Yeah. Tell me about it." He glanced back over at her.
"This is supposed to be one of the best movies of the year. What are you going to do with your fame and
fortune?"
Amy continued to smile. "Fame and
fortune is overrated. I’m going to go
back home."
Mark raised an eyebrow. "And do
what?"
"Teach drama at the local highschool."
"Hmm. Sounds… fun."
Amy chuckled. "For me, yes. For you?
Not so much."
Mark smiled. "I think you and me are
going to get along great, Amy."
The director rolled his eyes. "Since
when did you and a skirt not get along great?"
Amy laughed. Mark smirked. The director shook his head.
*
Amy adjusted her hold on the bulky script as she attempted to turn the
page. She looked at her watch in
between juggles and moaned. The bus was
late. I’m going to miss the
transfer, and then I’ll have to walk.
Amy sighed with a slight shrug of her shoulders. Oh well.
More time to read and study.
She didn’t have that many lines to memorize, but there was one scene
that had her very nervous.
There was a honk. Amy looked
up. "Hi, Mark," she said with a slight
smile.
"So you’re what a public trans person looks like," he said with a charming
smile as he draped his arm across the back of the Corvette seat. "I always wondered."
Amy’s lips twitched. "Nothing
glamorous, I hate to say. Just normal
people who don’t like hassling with traffic."
"But that’s the best part."
Amy chuckled. "Help yourself."
Mark’s lips lifted upward in a slight smirk. "So can I offer you a ride?"
"That’s all right." She lifted up
the script. "I’m using the time to
study."
Mark laughed. "You are a
brown-noser, aren’t you?"
"No. I just like knowing my lines
before hand. A good habit, I say."
"I wouldn’t know anything about good habits." Mark checked the traffic in his rearview mirror. "Are you sure you don’t want a ride? One last chance."
"Positive. Thanks for asking, but
I’ll take the bus."
"Suit yourself. See ya later." He gave a wave moments before peeling away.
Amy changed her focus back to the script.
She stopped reading when a shadow fell over the words. "You’re blocking my light."
The shadow moved. "Miss Burke, what
are you doing?"
Amy blinked and looked up. She
smiled. "Hello, Mr. Harrison." He didn’t return the greeting, and the stern
expression on his aristocratic face didn’t lessen. Amy let it slide without a feather ruffled. Instead, she gestured to the post that said
‘bus stop’. "I’m studying while waiting
for my ride." Amy motioned to the space
on the bench beside her. "There’s
plenty of room if you care to have a seat."
"No. Thank you." He studied her. Amy didn’t look away. "Do
you not have an auto?"
"Oh sure I do," she said as she closed the script. "I just don’t like fighting with traffic and getting yelled at
and cursed at and flipped off." Amy
shook her head with a continual smile.
"Too much stress in daily life as it is. I take the bus and use the time to read, or write letters to my
family, or just enjoy the peace."
"I see." Mr. Harrison looked away as
he adjusted his beige, calf-hide trenchcoat over his arm. A moment later an attendant of the studios
drove up in a crème-colored antique roadster.
Amy whistled. "Lovely. I bet she drives wonderfully smooth."
"I seldom have the opportunity to drive her beyond 10 miles per hour, but
she handles nicely enough."
Amy arched an eyebrow at the surprisingly civil conversation they
shared. She decided to continue as much
as possible. "My dad had one similar,
but I think his was American. Yours is
English, right?"
Mr. Harrison raised his gaze from his trenchcoat and moved it to hers. "Correct."
Amy nodded. "A lot of
difference. American roadsters have
their pluses, but those English ones…"
Amy shook her head. "Pieces of
art."
Mr. Harrison’s eyebrow twitched as he accepted the keys from the
attendant. "Thank you." He changed his attention back to Amy,
regarding her as he seemed to debate with himself a possibility.
Amy changed her gaze to her lap and opened her script again, not wanting him
to feel obligated when she would have been happy either riding the bus or in
his lovely roadster. "Have fun on your
drive, Mr. Harrison. Hopefully traffic
isn’t too bad."
He remained silent for a moment more before moving toward his roadster with
a civil "Good day, Miss Burke."
Amy watched him out of the corner of her eye until he drove away. Then she lifted her head with a slight smile
as she watched the car fade into the traffic.
"Good day, Mr. Harrison."
"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.
The first week passed as any other week, with the exception of Amy having to
tell her boss at the coffee shop near the University that she had to quit. He took it pretty well, considering the
short notice, and gave her a dubious expression when she told him she had
landed a role in a movie. That, in NYC,
was the most common excuse for being a flake.
Or so he said.
Studying the script was fun for Amy.
Not so much for Renee, due to the fact Amy refused to read her any
part of it.
Amy had qualms with certain aspects of the character she played, such as her
tendency toward insensitivity and the fact that she practically threw herself
at the lead hero - Cloud - instead of staying true to an existing relationship
with a young man by the name of Zack.
Amy forced herself to excuse the girl, though. After all, Zack had been missing for nearly 5 years when
Aeris met Cloud. The girl was
probably lonely. And people would
do normally out-of-character things when that was the case.
The Sephiroth character intrigued Amy.
She felt torn on whether to consider him a true villain or a tortured
soul. After all, he had been used and
abused, his soul twisted and tainted with untruths about who and what he
was. How does a person handle
something like that? Amy could see
the reasoning behind the character's desire to control and rule the world. After what he had suffered through his
30-something life, that form of control would probably be the only way to give
him some semblance of sanity and stability.
The Monday morning of the second week, Amy dressed in Levis and a nice
pale-pink cable sweater her mom had made the Christmas Amy had left for New
York. Then she gathered her script and
rain jacket, strapped her purse across herself, made sure she had her bus fare
in hand, and announced to Renee that she was heading toward the studio
early. Renee mumbled something while on
the way into the bathroom for a shower and then closed the door firmly behind
her. Amy chuckled and locked the
apartment after her before making her way to the elevator and then the street
outside.
"Good morning, Miss Burke," the doorman greeted.
"Good morning, Edward," she greeted the tall and thin man in his late
thirties. "How are you?"
"Doing well, Miss Burke. Yourself?"
"Good. Thank you."
"Off to the bus stop?"
Amy looked at the rain and grimaced.
"Yes, and it looks like I’m going to get soaked." She slipped into her rain coat and then gave
Edward another smile as she raised the hood.
"See you later."
The bus was actually on time, which Amy couldn’t understand because of the
rain, and dropped her off in front of the studios a full five minutes before
the expected time. Traffic had been
surprisingly light, with the bus only being honked at once. It’s bound to be a good morning, even
with the rain. Which had stopped a
few minutes before arriving at the front gate of the studio.
Amy stepped off the bus, missed the puddle with a smile at her good fortune,
and then headed toward the front gate.
As expected, she was stopped by the security guard there.
"State your name," he ordered as he retrieved his clipboard.
"Amy Burke," she offered as she opened her purse and dug out her ID.
"You’re not on the list."
Amy looked up. "Excuse me?"
"The list." He lifted the clipboard
for her to see. "You’re not on it."
"Oh. I take it that if I’m not on
the list, I don’t get in."
The security guard stepped back into his booth. "You got it."
"Hmm. Well this is certainly a
predicament. I needed to talk to Mr.
Shepherd about--"
"Throwing names around won’t impress me, Miss. Move along."
Amy placed her ID back into its appropriate slot. "You don’t need to be rude about it," she told him. "I’m just telling you what the problem is so
you could offer me a suggestion on how to fix it."
"Come back when you’re on the list," he told her with crossed arms.
Amy made a face. "Now why didn’t I
think of that?" She turned away with a
frown, a shake of her head, and a "for pete’s sake."
A familiar red Corvette pulled up, squealing to a stop with all the grandeur
and attitude expected of an action-flick hero who believed himself to be God’s
answer to Adonis. Mark stepped out of
the sports car, tossed the keys to the studio attendant that appeared, and then
made his way toward Amy.
"Hey there, you. What’s the matter?"
Amy forced the frown away. "Nothing
really. They just won’t let me in. I’m not on the list of expected guests
today."
"If you’re not on the list, what are you doing here?" Mark asked as he came
to stand by her.
"I’m a little nervous about one of my scenes. I wanted to talk to the director about it."
Mark gestured back to the security gate.
They headed toward it, Amy falling into step beside him. "Which one?"
"The death scene."
"Oh. Yeah, I can see why you’d be
nervous." Mark glanced over at
her. "I’m sure Shepherd will put a
stunt double in for you."
Amy met his gaze. "But it’s a
head-on shot. Otherwise the dramatic
effect is lost. You can’t do that with
a stunt double."
"Hmm." They arrived at the security
gate. "Mark Fraiser."
The security guard checked the list.
"ID."
Mark pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his black jeans and showed
the appropriate ID.
"You’re clear." He pointed at
Amy. "You’re not. Move along."
Amy frowned. Mark did too. "Look, mister, she’s with me. I don’t care about your rules. She’s got a question--"
"I don’t care," the security guard interrupted with a shake of his
head. He crossed his arms. "She’s not on the list. She doesn’t go in."
Mark swore as he pulled a cell phone off his hip. "We’ll see about that damn list." He hit the speed dial and brought the tiny phone up to his
ear. "Yo, Shepherd. Some ass here at the security gate won’t let
Amy in because of some damned list… Yes, I know shooting isn’t scheduled for
another week, but that’s not why she’s here… What do you mean you don’t have
time for anything outside the schedule?… Sure I get that, but--… I know--…
Fine. Be an ass." Mark disconnected and jammed the phone back
into his hip holster. "Sorry, Amy. No can do.
Shepherd’s anal about his schedules.
I forgot about that."
Amy smiled. "It’s okay, Mark. I appreciate the effort. I’ll just go home and try and come up with
some different ideas on how to do the scene without dying."
Mark smirked. "I used to do some
stunt work myself. In fact, I’m doing
my stunts in this flick. If you want, I
could come over and give you some pointers or something."
I’m sure you could. "That’s
alright. You’ve got enough on your
plate without having to baby-sit the newbie.
Thanks for the offer, though."
Amy gestured toward the studio beyond the gate. "You better get going. I don’t want to be black-balled because I
held you up.
Mark chuckled. "Yeah. I’d be heart broken, because I couldn’t see
you anymore."
Amy’s lips twitched. "I’ll see you
later, Mark. And thanks again for
trying."
"Sure thing."
Amy turned and walked away, very conscious of Mark’s appreciative
examination of her retreat. Oh
well. Where there are chicks, there are
wolves. She snickered at the good
joke and sat at the bus stop bench.
Wolves and flirts and teases had long ago become expected and dealt with
in truly unique ‘Amy’ fashion. Quite
simply, she ignored them. Not so much
their entire person, just their obvious lines or come-ons. She treated them as a person, and that was
it. It had been the best way to keep
from making enemies. Instead, she
gained friends, which were more important than anything else. At least in Amy’s opinion.
Amy pulled her script onto her lap to open it to the last scene, nibbling
her lower lip as she read and reread what she had already written in the
margins. The more she thought about the
scene, the more she knew that she would be better off if she did talk to
Mark about it. I just won’t invite
him over to my apartment. We’ll do it
in a less personal setting. Renee
would be irritated if she ever found out that Mark Frasier had been denied the
opportunity to come over, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
There was a door slam and Amy looked up.
She smiled. "Good morning, Mr.
Harrison. Lovely drive today, I hope."
Mr. Harrison halted his progress around the roadster with an expression of
mild surprise. "Miss Burke? I don’t recall seeing your name on the
schedule for this morning."
Amy grimaced as she set the script beside her. "So I found out the hard way."
Mr. Harrison finished pulling off his driving gloves as he made his way
toward her. He was wearing yet another
pair of flattering Docker-type slacks and what was likely a Ralph Lauren Polo
cable-knit sweater of emerald green.
The crisp white collar of his freshly pressed Perry Ellis shirt peaked
up over the ‘crew’ neck. Wow.
"Was there a problem?" he asked.
"I had a question about my final scene," she confessed as he came to stand
in front of her. He smelled of Hugo
Boss, always a favorite of Amy’s when it came to men. "I have to say I’m more than a little nervous."
Mr. Harrison sat on the bench beside her after taking up the script. "I believe I understand the hesitation," he
said as he flipped through the pages in search of the mentioned scene.
"Mark said something about a stunt double, but that would take away from the
dramatic effect." Mr. Harrison found
the scene, and Amy leaned toward him slightly to point to the appropriate
section on the page. "See? The culmination of action and conflict up to
that point just screams for a dramatic death.
If we put in a stunt double…"
Amy shook her head as she pulled herself back. "It will ruin the entire scene."
Mr. Harrison adjusted the script in his hands, apparently reading the notes
Amy had written within the margins.
"What are these?"
"Oh." Amy flushed and reached out to
take the script. "Just notes to
myself. It’s nothing."
Mr. Harrison pulled the script out of her reach. "Hmm," he commented absently.
"Interesting."
Amy gnawed her lower lip. Then Mr.
Harrison closed the script and handed it to her. "Thank you." She
self-consciously adjusted it on her lap.
"Anyway, I thought maybe I should take some stunt classes or
something. That way Mr. Shepherd
doesn’t lose anything in the delivery of the scene." Amy finally raised her gaze to meet his. She smiled.
"I don’t want you to look bad, either.
After all, you… suggested me for this role."
Mr. Harrison’s lips twitched upward.
"Yes. So I recall." He gestured to the script. "Continue to study what is written, Miss
Burke. In the mean time, I will ask Max
what he had in mind. Believe me, I
would rather not risk life and limb simply for the performance of a scene."
Amy’s smile broadened. "No, I don’t
suppose you would. Mr. Shepherd would
be a little peeved if the villain and the ‘sacrificial lamb’ died at the
climax."
Mr. Harrison chuckled, and Amy found it a luscious baritone. Then he stood. "When your time comes to perform, Max and myself require
110%. I suggest that, until then, you
enjoy your respite from the grueling shooting schedule."
Amy nodded, looking into his handsome face with an absent smile. "I will."
Mr. Harrison gave a slight bow, his eyes still twinkling as his lips
twitched upward. "Good morning, Miss
Burke, and enjoy your ride back."
He moved away toward the security gate, Amy staring after him with a continued smile. Nice man. Very nice man.
(tip: in the poetry excerpts you will notice a ‘/’ within lines. This
only signifies a hard page break within the poem itself. If you can, ignore
them and pay attention only to the punctuation. That will help with the
smoothness of the reading. Speaking from experience, you might also try
rereading the poem. It will help, too. I promise. ^_^)
*
The phone on the end table to Amy’s right chirped. She absently reached over to pick it up, nestling it into her
shoulder with a distracted "Hello" as she turned the page of her novel.
"Good day. Might I speak with Miss
Amy Burke?"
"Speaking," Amy confessed with disinterest.
"Ah, Miss Burke. Harrison here."
Amy blinked, the words on the page lost to her as she smiled into the
phone. "Well hello, Mr. Harrison. How are you?" Amy closed the novel and set it beside her as she tucked her feet
up under her.
"Quite well, thank you. Yourself?"
"Just relaxing with good ol’ Charles Dickens."
"Indeed?"
Amy’s eyes crinkled at the corners.
"What? You expected Sweet
Valley High or something?" she asked with a chuckle.
"To be quite truthful…"
Amy laughed. "I suppose I deserved
that. I have a tendency of being a
little too perky for people to believe I prefer literature to contemporary
works." Amy thought she detected a
slight chuckle, and her eyes twinkled.
She changed her position on the couch, stretching her legs out as she
leaned her back against the couch arm.
"So to what do I owe the honor of this call, Mr. Harrison?"
"I’ve spoken to Max regarding the scene."
Amy’s smile faded to an expression of astonishment.
"It seems that he has already planned a meeting with one of the top stunt
companies," Mr. Harrison continued.
"Max intends to gather different options and opinions on how to best
handle the situation before making a decision regarding it."
"Wow. Thank you, Mr. Harrison. I appreciate it." Amy started picking at a loose string on the couch. "I didn’t tell you to manipulate you into
doing something about it."
"Of course not, Miss Burke. I had
already intended to speak with Max regarding the scene, simply at a later
date. Your attention to detail and
preparedness - which is much appreciated - simply brought it to the forefront
of the conversation earlier than intended."
Amy’s smile returned. "Thank you
again, Mr. Harrison. If only all
villains and execs could be as helpful… it would definitely be a lot easier to
be persuaded to stay in the movie business."
"You don’t intend to continue on screen?"
Amy wrinkled her nose as she rested her forehead in her left hand, her elbow
pressed into the back of the couch.
"Nope. I went to the audition
because my friend asked me to. I never
actually thought I would get a role, especially not a leading one… although I
would call Aeris a supporting role more than a lead. Anyway, my love is the stage, not the screen. Always has been."
"Indeed?"
"‘Indeed’, Mr. Harrison." Amy
chuckled. "I continue to shock
you, don’t I? I think that’s four times
now. Twice just in this
conversation."
Mr. Harrison cleared his throat.
"I do apologize. I seem to
have placed you in an inappropriate category since the first."
Amy waved it away. "Don't beat
yourself up about it, Mr. Harrison. I did
sound pathetically similar to a 'yes-man' that first day at the studio. As I told Mark and the director, I
brown-nose without meaning to."
Mr. Harrison actually laughed.
Amy admitted that it had to be the sexiest sound ever heard from a
man. "Anyway, thanks again. You didn't need to bother about it, but I'm
glad you did."
"Again, you are quite welcome.
Also, If you are so inclined, I could meet with you to choreograph
different possibilities."
Amy's smile vanished as the statement 'he'll have you in his sheets in
less than a week' hit her upside the head.
True, it had been more than a week, but not if she counted the actual
days they had met with each other. She
cleared her throat. "Mr. Harrison,
you're so busy… I hate to have you
bother with something like that."
"It is no bother, Miss Burke, due to the fact we will be working
together on that particular scene at a later date. With that in mind, I would have likely recommended we meet before
actual shooting commenced. It reduces
the need for retakes of the scene."
Amy rubbed at her forehead with a single finger. Suspicion battled with her eagerness to work with a legend in his
own time. Dang it, Renee... "Well... when did you have in
mind? Your schedule looks pretty
wild." Geez. Just give him the benefit of the doubt,
girl. "Saturday was my last
day at the coffee shop, so I'm free all week."
"Perhaps we could meet today to discuss possibilities of a rehearsal
schedule?"
Amy swallowed hard. "If you're
sure it won't completely mess up what you’ve already got planned, that's fine
with me."
"What time should I expect you?"
Amy cleared her throat as she turned in the couch to sit with feet flat on
the floor, adjusting the phone to her other shoulder. "Um... well, that depends on the bus schedule. Probably a couple of hours."
"I see." Silence. "Would you be available in forty-five
minutes?"
Amy blinked. "Pardon?"
"I should be able to arrive at your apartment complex by that
time."
"Mr. Harrison, you don't have to do that."
"Nonsense. What is your
apartment number?"
"412, but--"
"Right. Forty-five minutes,
then."
"Mr. Harrison," Amy pressed in her most firm tone available,
"this is going a little bit beyond the Executive Producer's call of
duty."
"Yes, it is," he agreed, "and such is the reason I am not
currently wearing my Executive Producer shoes."
Amy reluctantly smiled. "No
Italian loafers today?"
"Nike."
Amy laughed. "Alright,
alright. No more complaints and
whining. I'll be ready in thirty
minutes."
"Excellent. Barring any quote-unquote
emergencies, I shall be there shortly."
"I thought you weren't wearing those shoes?" she ribbed.
Mr. Harrison's smile could almost be heard through the phone. "Unfortunately, I must always carry
them with me."
Amy laughed again. "Point taken
and admitted. How about I say I'll see
you when I see you?"
"Good enough, although for the record I do prefer punctuality or early
arrivals."
"I already suspected that," Amy said with a slight sound of a
laugh.
"Ah. Then the warning wasn't
necessary."
"Nope."
"Very well, then. I shall see you... when I see you."
Amy smiled wider with a shake of her head.
"Sounds like a plan.
Bye."
Mr. Harrison clicked off without a returned statement, and Amy wondered if
he had grown so accustomed to hanging up on people that he didn't even think
about saying 'good-bye' or 'toodles'.
Amy laughed. She couldn't hear
him saying 'toodles' or 'ta-ta' or anything else. A simple click as all she could picture. I'm sure he doesn't mean to. And Amy wasn't going to ask, either.
"Okee dokee," she sighed as she pushed herself to her feet. "A meeting with Sir Garret
Harrison. Wow. Don't look now, Amy girl, you're on your way
to... well... to something."
Amy shook her head with a chuckle as she made her way to her room to change
from her flannel loungers and midriff T-shirt to something a little less... provocative? Amy laughed aloud when she thought of
wearing her baggiest and least flattering jeans with her dowdiest
sweatshirt. The guy would pass-out
from horror! Instead, she dressed
in her favorite pair of medium blue Levis and the dark blue sweatshirt that
said 'Oliver' across the front; one of the many dramas involved with while
studying drama at NYU.
Amy washed her face and brushed her teeth, then reapplied her make-up and
ran a brush through her waves of brunette.
She put the side and front portions up in a barrette to keep it out of
her face, and then she gave it a couple spritzes of Aussie hairspray to keep it
from flying every which way and tickling her nose into a sneezing fit. That would not be very attractive. Then she left the bathroom while pulling off
her socks, leaping on first one foot and then the other on her way to her
bedroom.
Amy grabbed a fresh pair of socks from her dresser, scooped up her
outlet-store Addidas from the corner by her bedroom door, and then padded to
the couch. She looked at her
watch. Cool. Fifteen minutes. Gives me thirty before he shows up. She slipped into her socks and shoes as she chuckled over their
phone conversation. So he is
human after all. I'll have to tell
Renee 'I told you so', which caused another flow of sniggers and shakes of
the head.
Deciding to make sure there was juice, freshly filtered water, or soda pop
in the fridge ready and waiting for their guest, Amy made her way into the
kitchenette and opened the fridge. Sure
enough, there was a half gallon of juice from concentrate, a half pitcher full
of filtered water, and a half case of diet cola. Amy wrinkled her nose. Mr.
Harrison probably doesn't like cola, and definitely not diet. So, wanting to be the appropriately prepared
hostess that her mother had trained, Amy set some water to heating on the stove
for tea - herbal and not black - and then brought her grinder down from the
cupboard to make coffee.
Amy had just set the coffee to percolating in her trusty Mr. Coffee
coffee-maker when there was a firm knock on the door. Amy glanced down at her watch.
She smiled. Fifteen minutes
early. Good for you. Amy tucked the grinder up and away with a
shout over her shoulder of "Just a second!" before hurrying to the
door. She unlocked the deadbolt and
chain and opened it.
Mr. Harrison was dressed in his same slacks and cable-knit sweater, with a
schedule book the size of a notebook in one hand while wearing a somewhat
serious expression on his face. Amy
smiled and stepped back as she opened the door wider. "Come on in."
He did so, taking in a minute scrutiny of the small apartment and the
furnishings/decorations therein.
"I didn't know how soon you wanted to scoot out of here, what with
traffic and everything," Amy continued, "so I'm making coffee or
tea. Your choice. If you'd rather a cold drink, I have freshly
filtered water, diet cola, and juice.
No alcohol. Don't
drink." Amy closed the door,
refastened the locks, and then made her way back to the kitchen when she heard
the teapot begin to sing. "Go
ahead and have a seat," she offered as she passed.
Amy heard the schedule book go onto the couch, but heard his steps on the
hardwood floor cross the room toward her collection of books. Amy smiled as she placed the teapot onto the
available hot pad before opening the cupboard above the stove in search of the
box of teabags. She had never been ashamed
of her reading preferences, and now she was even a little proud of her
selection. Especially with Sir
Garret Harrison looking over it.
Mr. Harrison's loafers click-clicked back over toward the bar and the stools
of the kitchenette. Amy found the wanted
box of Earl Gray and Chamomile teas and set them onto the counter without
turning around. "So what's the
verdict: tea or coffee?" she asked as she stepped to the left cupboard
near the sink for the mugs.
"Coffee. Thank you."
Amy heard him sit at the counter as she set the tea boxes aside and carried
the mugs over to the coffee-maker.
"Honey or sugar?"
"Honey."
"Cream or not?"
"Is it non-dairy?"
"Yep," Amy said as she made her way to the fridge. "I'm lactose intolerant. A bummer when I crave ice cream, but what
can a person do." Amy retrieved
the creamer from the fridge and turned to show it, vaguely noticing how well
Mr. Harrison fit with her decor.
"It's French Vanilla. I
hope you don't mind."
Mr. Harrison's smile was slight and continual. "It doesn't matter."
Amy made her way back to the coffee-maker.
"I usually put a teaspoon or two of chocolate powder in mine,
making it a mocha you know. Did you
want to try it?"
"No. Thank you."
"Sure." Amy finished the
concoction and turned to place it on the counter with a napkin and a saucer and
spoon. "There ya go."
"Thank you."
"Uh-huh." And then she
went to work with her own coffee.
There was the slight tinkle of spoon on china as he stirred his coffee. "Quite an impressive library, Miss
Burke."
"Thanks. It was a bit of a
chore to get them on a student's limited income, but I shopped garage sales,
estate sales, eBay, and who knows where else." Amy put her mug into the microwave and hit '30 seconds'. She turned back to Mr. Harrison and gestured
to his coffee. "Is it hot
enough? I could reheat it."
Mr. Harrison set the spoon onto the saucer and took a testing sip. "It's fine. Thank you."
The microwave beeped, and Amy retrieved her coffee mug. Then she gave it a stir with her own spoon
before sipping it as she leaned a hip against the bar counter across from Mr.
Harrison. "I love books as much as
I love reading. A person can't have
those types of adventures nowadays.
Well, not unless you're on stage or screen. That's probably why I went into Drama. I loved the adventure."
Amy smirked. "The applause
is nice too."
"Yes. I have found the applause
to be worth the agony of the performance."
Amy nodded. "Applause is like a
drug. Maybe that's why actors stay in
the biz so long. They're really
addicts," she finished with twinkling eyes as she sipped her coffee.
Mr. Harrison chuckled. "Yes, I
suppose we are."
Amy regarded Mr. Harrison over her coffee cup. There was something different about him. Yeah.
He's actually relaxed.
"What made you go on stage?" Mr. Harrison's relaxed expression tightened, and the smile became
forced. Amy pounced on the obvious
warning of dangerous territory with a genuine "I'm sorry, Mr.
Harrison. Forget I said anything. Just enjoy your coffee."
Mr. Harrison stared into his coffee cup on the bar counter a moment before
raising his gaze to meet hers.
"Call me Garret."
Amy smiled to hide the relieved sigh.
"Okay, but you have to stop calling me Miss Burke. Makes me feel like I should be wearing my
hair in a bun with army-issue glasses and a dowdy blazer/skirt
combination."
Mr. Harrison-- Garret's expression relaxed into a smile as he chuckled. "I do apologize."
Amy straightened and headed around the bar to the living room, coffee and
saucer in hand. "Don't worry about
it. Habits die hard." She set her cup and saucer onto a coaster on
the coffee table and sat in the couch.
"Alright. I guess we
should-- Oh wait." Amy looked over at Garret. "Were we going somewhere else?"
Garret stood - Amy hadn't realized he was so tall - and made his way to sit
beside her. Hugo Boss clung to each
article of clothing he wore. He set his
cup and saucer on a coaster beside hers.
"It isn't necessary. We
should be able to compare schedules as easily here as elsewhere."
"Okay. Just wanted to make
sure." Amy leaned back in the
couch with a fast breath as she crossed her arms. "Like I said, I'm free all day and all afternoon. Except for Sunday mornings. Church, you know." Garret unzipped his schedule book and opened
it to the appropriate week. Curiosity
got the best of Amy, so she leaned slightly over to take a gander at his...
life... "Oh my gosh! How do you
stay sane with all that going on?"
Garret looked over at her with an expression of surprise. "This?" he asked as he motioned to
the week. It was nearly black and blue
with all the notes and meetings and places-to-be at certain times. "This is a mild week, due to the fact I
have shooting schedules."
"B-But... You barely have 15 minutes to yourself!" Amy pressed,
wide-eyed. She met his gaze. "No wonder you escaped to the park last
week. If you hadn't, you probably would
have killed someone!"
One side of Garret's lips tilted upward.
"Yes, well, last week was a touch harsher than what is
normal. There were certain critical
miscommunications."
Amy scooted closer and tapped on the weekly schedule, motioning to each day
and bringing to his attention the fact that there was no free space. "But look. Meeting, meeting, scene shooting, luncheon date..." She looked up to meet his mildly amused
expression. "This isn't
healthy. Do you want to have a
stroke?"
"While the doctor has warned my blood pressure is a trifle
higher than what he would like, I've grown accustomed to the constant demand
for my attention."
Amy shook her head and scooted a little back. "I'm sorry, but there is no way I'm going to add to that
mess. If you free your schedule at all,
you should take the time for yourself and not for me."
"Nonsense. I enjoy my
work."
"Oh, is that what you call snapping people's heads
off--" Amy's eyes widened as she
slapped both hands over her mouth.
Garret simply raised an eyebrow as he met her gaze. "Oh my gosh," she said, muffled by
her hands. She shook her head and
lowered her hands. "I'm
sorry. I can't believe I said
that."
His lips twitched with a smile.
"It’s quite all right. I believe
I deserved the reprimand. To have it
vocalized by a lovely lady such as yourself rather than Max is an added bonus."
Amy let the line slide. "I still
shouldn’t have said it. Mom brought me
up with more tact than that."
"Yes, well, tact has its place. I
have a tendency of ignoring anything but bluntness."
Amy smiled. "I’ve met a few people
like that," she confessed.
Garret motioned to his schedule.
"All right then. This meeting
can be rescheduled to next week… no, I believe I will cancel until after
shooting is completed. I haven’t the
time for another project, as you’ve so adeptly pointed out. And this luncheon… Hmm. No, I suppose I should keep that
appointment. Charity and whatnot."
Garret continued on for nearly half an hour as Amy watched in horror and
amazement as he completely and totally rearranged his schedule to free 3 hours
each day of that week just for rehearsals with her on one scene. She could hardly believe it possible. Not that she would be rehearsing with Sir
Garret Harrison, but that his schedule would move like that. But he made phone call after phone call on
his tiny cell phone and canceled, rearranged, rescheduled, and shortened
meetings and appointments until Amy’s name was penned in every day that week.
When Garret ended the last phone call, Amy leaned back into the couch with
an exhalation of breath and a shake of her head. "I’m exhausted."
Garret smirked as he tucked the cell phone into the appropriate corner of
his schedule book. "Come, come. Rearranging my schedule didn’t deserve that
quip."
Amy reluctantly smiled. "Not from
your point of view, but definitely from mine.
I’m of the philosophy that we should have at least an hour or two each
day just to ourselves."
"And what would you do with this treasure trove of availability?" Garret
asked as he turned a little more toward her.
One arm draped around the back of the couch as the other rested
comfortably on the arm.
"Are you kidding?" Amy asked, wide-eyed.
She brought up a hand to count off the activities on each finger. "Read, write on that script I’ve been
tinkering with, go to the movies, hang out at the coffee shop and just watch
people, go watch a play in the park, just take a walk in the
park..." She lowered her hand and met
his gaze again. "There are a million
things I could do."
Garret watched her expression with a continual smile. "You certainly give it an air of
excitement."
Amy’s lips twitched. "Life should
be exciting. But it’s important for me
to have some down time to relax and rediscover who I am, what I’m doing, and
where I’m headed. If I don’t, I might
forget why I want to be on the stage in the first place."
"And why does Miss Amy Burke want to be on stage?"
He is the smoothest flirter…
"When I was a kid, I loved the idea of performing and making people
laugh or cry or whatever. Something
about… providing this alternate reality just appealed to me. It was fun, to put it simply. As I grew up, it became more of a…" Amy pushed her lips to one side of her mouth
as her eyes focused on the bar counter behind him. Then her eyes focused back on his as they intensely scrutinized
her expression with that same, continual, and very attractive smile. "I’m not really sure what to call it. I just couldn’t think of doing anything else
but live these roles and perform these people that had such fascinating stories
to tell. Each time I do, it’s like I
discover a new part of myself." She
smiled, and her eyes twinkled. "Isn’t
that odd? That we discover parts of
ourselves through fictional characters because we’re not afraid to be true to their
character?"
"Indeed," he acknowledged softly.
Garret regarded her a moment.
"What have you discovered of yourself through Aeris Gainsborough?"
Amy began to feel the affect of his gentle gaze and tender tone and cologne
and intoxicating… Amy cleared her throat and changed her gaze to her
fingernails. "Actually, she’s a little
annoying, but probably only because I would handle situations a little
differently than what the writer has.
Who knows, maybe she’s annoying because her personality is very similar
to mine?" Amy chuckled and risked
changing her gaze back to Garret. "Does
that mean I’m annoying too?" He has gorgeous
blue eyes.
"Definitely not the word I would have chosen," Garret intoned in the perfect
tone of voice to be a type of…
Amy moved her gaze away, leaning forward to take a sip from her previously
forgotten coffee. "But it does give one
cause to wonder, you must admit."
"I wonder only how you have remained so fresh and cheerful among the usual
skepticism of New York City."
Amy blinked before taking up the spoon and stirring the caramel colored
liquid. Renee wasn’t kidding about
the charm. "My dad says I’m a
continual optimist with a humor streak the size of the Mississippi."
Garret chuckled and crossed his right ankle onto his left knee, which of
course caused the sole of his foot to brush Amy’s leg. Amy couldn’t help but smile. None of the men in her entire experience of
high school and college and every day working at the coffee shop had ever been
this smooth. She rather enjoyed it.
Amy took up her cup and saucer and leaned back into the couch. "Sometimes I have problems with
inappropriate sarcasm, but I’m always quick to apologize." She took a sip of coffee and then gave a
slight shrug. "Well, most of the time. There are those times when they either
deserved it, or I was too clueless to realize I was out of line."
"I find that hard to believe."
Amy smiled as she kept her eyes from his face, attractive and inviting as it
was. "I guess that means I’m a good
actor."
Garret chuckled as he very smoothly adjusted his seating to move slightly
closer to Amy. The excuse in doing so
was, of course, to gain a better position to retrieve his cup and saucer from
the coffee table. I wonder if he’ll
try to kiss me? It wasn’t an
unpleasant prospect to say the least, but Amy wasn’t that type of girl. A
bedpost mark? I don’t think so. Amy was a prude, and she wasn’t
ashamed of it, either.
"I propose a challenge, then."
Amy blinked and looked over at him.
Garret met her gaze with the same attractive expression of flirtation
that wasn’t as painfully obvious as the men in her life before. "Excuse me?"
Garret leaned forward to place his cup and saucer back onto the coffee
table. "I shall begin a scene with what
I believe is the appropriate amount of dialogue lead-in, and you are to
continue with the appropriate response."
Amy arched an eyebrow as she very slowly set her cup and saucer beside
his. "Hmm. I think I’m in for a humiliating experience."
Garret chuckled as he stood to move opposite the coffee table. "Nonsense."
He gestured her forward. "Come,
come, Amy."
Amy released a deep breath as she stood.
"Alright, but you better promise not to ridicule me."
"Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I
shan’t."
Garret’s blue eyes twinkled as she came to stand opposite him. Then his expression and entire persona changed. Amy could see a touch of distress and
intensity within the expression and stance.
It rose to a type of fervor as he stepped slightly toward her, lost
within the role.
"‘Madam, is there here any armor within your chamber that I might cover my
body withal? And if there be any, give
it me, and I shall soon stop their malice, by the grace of God!’"
As he delivered the lines with such complete and total immersion into the
character, Amy instantly knew where he quoted from. In fact, she had chosen this scene as a Final her second year at
NYU. It was a scene from Morte
Darthur, from the section known as ‘The Conspiracy against Lancelot and
Guinevere’. Garret, of course, played
Sir Lancelot. In the scene, Sir
Lancelot had been caught within Queen Guinevere’s chambers in a less than moral
position. It had all been used as a
conspiracy by certain other knights to prove Sir Lancelot traitor.
Amy had always loved the scene because of its passion and intensely
emotional dialogue.
Amy, in full character and anguish that her love was in danger, took hold of
Garret/Sir Lancelot’s arm. "‘Now, truly I have none armor neither helm, shield,
sword, neither spear, wherefore I dread me sore our long love is come to a
mischievous end.’" Amy/Guinevere
gestured behind her to the imaginary hall which held the men thirsting for her
love’s blood and calling him traitor.
"‘For I hear by their noise there be many noble knights, and well I woot
they be securely armed, and against them ye may make no resistance.’" Her expression became pained as she held his
arm with both hands. "‘Wherefore ye are
likely to be slain, and then shall I be burned! For if ye might escape them I would not doubt but that ye would
rescue me in what danger that ever I stood in.’"
"‘Alas! In all my life thus was I
never beset that I should be thus shamefully slain for lack of mine
armor.’" And Sir Lancelot’s aggravation
at his apparent helplessness at defending his love as well as his person was
masterfully portrayed by Garret’s expression.
"Ah, Jesu mercy!’" Garret/Sir Lancelot continued. "‘This shameful cry and noise I may not
suffer, for better were death at once than thus to endure this pain.’" Then Garret/Sir Lancelot took Amy/Guinevere
into his arms and kissed her.
Amy had been kissed several times throughout her life, but nothing had ever
come even remotely close to the complete and total mergence of passion,
intensity, and tenderness. It moved her
as nothing else had ever done.
Then Garret/Sir Lancelot raised his head and said, "‘Most noblest Christian
queen, I beseech you, as ye have been ever my special good lady, and I at all
times your poor knight and true to the utmost of my power, and as I never
failed you in right nor in wrong sithen the first day King Arthur made me
knight, that ye will pray for my soul if that I be slain. For well I am assured that Sir Bors, my
nephew, and all the remnant of my kin, with Sir Lavain and Sir Urry, that they
will not fail you to rescue you from the fire." Garret/Sir Lancelot caressed Amy/Guinevere’s face with a tender
touch that brought tears to her eyes as her gaze was held so completely by
his. "And therefore, mine own lady,
recomfort yourself, whatsoever come of me, that ye go with Sir Bors, my nephew,
and Sir Urry and they all will do you all the pleasure that they may, and ye
shall live like a queen upon my lands.’"
Amy/Guinevere shook her head. "‘Nay,
Sir Lancelot,’" she said in a cracked and broken voice – amazed all the while
that she still remembered the lines, "‘wit thou well that I will not live long
after thy days. But if ye be slain I
will take my death as meekly as ever did martyr take his death for Jesu
Christ’s sake.’"
Garret/Sir Lancelot’s expression became resigned and tender. "‘Well, Madam, sith it is so that the day is
come that our love must come to an end, wit you well I shall sell my life as
dear as I may.’" His expression held
clear anguish. "‘And a thousandfold I
am more grieved for you than for myself!
And now I had rather than to be lord of all Christendom that I had sure
armor upon me, that men might speak of my deeds ere ever I were slain.’"
Amy/Guinevere reached up with both hands to caress Garret/Sir Lancelot’s
face. "‘Truly, if it might please God,
I would that they would take me and slay me and allow you to escape,’" she said
softly, tenderly.
Garret/Sir Lancelot shook his head.
"‘That shall never be.’" He
stepped away from her with a clear expression of purpose and
determination. "‘God defend me from
such a shame! But, Jesu Christ, be Thou
my shield and mine armor!’"
Then Sir Lancelot disappeared to that realm of fiction and imagination that
existed in all actors. Amy, though, was
still in such a daze from the kiss and the scene and the complete joy to act in
such a work of literary wonder, that she barely noticed the transition.
"Well done," Garret said with a smile in eyes and on lips. "Your portrayal of Queen Guinevere was…
superb."
"Thank you," Amy said in a tone that seemed a little lost, but she did have
presence of mind enough to offer "I’ve always loved that scene."
Garret stepped a little closer, but Amy was so intense on the duty of
gathering her wits from the edges of her sanity that she didn’t notice. "Such a statement doesn’t shock in the
least," he said, stepping closer still.
"Especially with your convincing performance of love and
tenderness. Magnificent. Breathtaking." Garret surrounded her with his arms and drew her closer. "Enchanting," he whispered.
Amy blinked up at him, her green eyes lost in the depths of his blue
ones. Some part of her mind desperately
tried to remind her of something very important, but then he was kissing her
and the warning was lost amidst the scene and the characters and the wondrous
emotion of attraction.
Reality dropped like a lead weight when the intensity of his kiss
heightened, bringing with it a remembered comment of ‘he’ll have you in his
sheets in less than a week’.
Amy pulled back, stepping away from Garret’s kiss and cologne and warmth
with a slight gasp. "No," she said with
a shake of her head, eyes wide.
Garret followed with an easy smile, his hands catching hold of hers as he
said "‘Oh mistress mine, where are you roaming? / O, stay and hear; your true
love’s coming, / that can sing both high and low.’"
Amy shook her head again. Shakespeare…
Oh my gosh. Sir Garret Harrison is
quoting Shakespeare… "M-Mr.
Harrison…" And she took another step back.
Garret followed still. "‘Trip no
further, pretty sweeting; / Journeys end in lovers meeting, / Every wise man’s
son doth know.’" He drew her closer,
his gaze holding hers as his smile made Amy unable to say a word. "‘What is love? ‘tis not hereafter; /
Present mirth hath present laughter; / What’s to come is still unsure: / In
delay there lies no plenty;’" Garret
very slowly lowered his head, drawing his lips ever closer to hers. Amy watched in shock and horror as her mind
lost control of her body. "‘Then come
kiss me, sweet and twenty, / Youth’s a stuff will not endure,’" he whispered.
Amy closed her eyes as his lips gently met hers. Oh my gosh… this can’t be happening… And her mind felt as if she were drowning on
a wave of so many things and thoughts and emotions that she was lost among
them. ‘he’ll have you in his sheets’--
Amy pulled back with a scowl, shoving Garret away a little more
forcefully than she probably should have.
"No," she said firmly, "I am not going to be another mark on your
bedpost!" Amy scowled up into Garret’s
surprised expression.
The easy, attractive, flirtatious smile returned as he enfolded her hands in
his. "Amy--"
"No," she said again, pulling her hands free. She put fists on hips.
"Mr. Harrison, this is exactly what Renee warned me about. You want to know what I told her? I told her that she shouldn’t believe those
gossip columns because they never know the full story." Hurt and tears began to glitter in her eyes
as Garret’s smile slowly faded. "I was
doing my best, my best, to give you a chance to be yourself. In fact, these meetings with you have been a
lot of fun."
A tear escaped, but Amy ignored it.
"You had no right to trample all over that in my home and
take advantage of a passionate situation.
And I would rather not think you planned it that way. If you want to start a relationship, Mr.
Harrison, then you could at least have the decency to talk to me about it. I wouldn’t have said no. You’re a very attractive man, brilliant on
stage, and a pleasant human being when given the chance. In fact, I had begun to like you as a
person, and not as what some people would call a meal ticket to the bright
lights of New York City’s inner-circle."
Garret said nothing. He only
straightened, holding her angry, hurt, and tear-filled gaze.
Amy sniffed, and her tone and expression softened as she wiped the tears
from her cheeks. "I’m a person, Mr.
Harrison, with feelings and views and thoughts on life and living. I am not someone or something to be
conquered. It hurts me to think you
believed I was."
This time Garret lowered his gaze.
Then he turned and moved toward the couch, taking up his schedule book
before making his way to the door. He
unlocked the deadbolt and slid back the chain.
Once he had opened the door, he turned back and said very softly "I
apologize, Miss Burke," while not meeting her gaze.
Then he closed the door after him.
Amy sniffed and slowly made her way to the couch, where she sat on the
very edge and covered her face with her hands.
When Renee had returned from work a couple hours later, Amy had been soaking
in the tub while listening to Offenbach’s Tales of Hoffman, something
Renee knew Amy only did when upset.
Renee of course had pelted Amy with questions, but she hadn’t wanted to
add to the already horrendous mountain of gossip stacked against Garret. As usual for Amy, she wanted to give him
another chance. Like she had said to
his face, she was beginning to like him as a person. If he wanted to start a relationship, she would.
Amy didn’t sleep that night. She
felt bad for Garret. Not because of
what she had said, but because she thought he might have really believed the
only way he could get ‘love’ was through his fame. Amy didn’t ever like reading too much into situations, but she
had seen and heard it all too often.
Amy sighed now, sitting as she was on the couch while trying to study her
script before her scheduled rehearsal time with him later that afternoon. I wasn’t too hard on him, was I? Amy had done her best to be honest, just
like her mom and dad had taught her, while being as tactful as possible. The only problem being that Amy had this
inkling no one said ‘no’ to Sir Garret Harrison very often. Didn’t I have a hard enough time? Amy sighed again, giving a shake of her head
just as there was a knock on the door.
"Coming."
She unfurled herself from the couch, gave the waistband of her flannel
loungers a gentle pull upward, and then headed over to the door. She unlocked the deadbolt but kept the
chain. When she opened the door, Garret
stood on the other side dressed in pressed Calvin Klein jeans and yet another
Ralph Lauren Polo shirt of dark blue.
Amy blinked. "Oh. Hello.
Just a sec." Amy slightly closed
the door, unfastened the chain, and then opened it the rest of the way. She motioned inside with an outstretched
arm. "Come on in."
Garret hesitated a moment before stepping over the threshold and standing
quite uncertain in the middle of the living room.
Amy motioned to the couch. "Have a
seat." She gathered up her script and
set it on the coffee table, then she headed for the kitchen. "Coffee?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"I’ll set it to brewing and then change into something a little more…
appropriate." Amy had already ground
some coffee beans earlier, so she put the appropriate amount into the basket,
filled the machine with water, and then turned it on. "It should only take a couple minutes. Be right back."
Amy closed the door to her bedroom and leaned against it with a sigh. Just don’t try any approach but the right
one, Garret. Please? Give yourself a chance. Amy pushed away from the door and changed
into her favorite jean/sweatshirt combination.
When she headed out of her bedroom, she heard the clunk and clink of
Garret in the kitchenette preparing a mug of coffee. The idea of Sir Garret Harrison in her kitchen making coffee
settled well, but she supposed the idea of any eligible bachelor as good
looking as Garret Harrison in her kitchen would have settled well.
Amy sat on the couch tailor-style as she said "the chocolate powder is in a
glass container to the left of the coffee-maker."
A few minutes later, Garret emerged with two cup-and-saucer combinations in
hand. He set both on the waiting
coasters on the coffee table and then sat beside her on the couch. Garret began absently stirring his
coffee. A few moments later, he set the
spoon aside and cleared his throat, staring down at his hands before turning to
meet her gaze. He looked about to speak
several times, but then he pressed his lips together and faced forward again.
Amy drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her
legs. "I’m not mad, you know," she said
quietly. "You apologized, and I believe
you meant it. I’m not one to hold a
grudge." Garret didn’t acknowledge her
statement, so Amy smiled and said "‘No more be grieved at that which thou hast
done: / Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud.’" Garret’s lips lifted in a slight smile as
Amy continued. "‘Clouds and eclipses
stain both moon and sun, / And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. / All
men make faults.’"
"‘And even I in this,’" Garret finished.
He looked over at her. "Yet
another bit of proof that you have actually read those books I see rising up
behind you."
Amy examined her knees with a slight smile.
"What else are you supposed to do with books?"
"Many own them to impress the appropriate crowd."
Amy raised her gaze to meet his. Her
expression was truthful. "The only
people I’ve ever wanted to impress were my parents, and my grades did
that." Then the smile returned. "Although I must admit I’m glad you liked my
Guinevere performance."
Garret cleared his throat and looked away.
Amy chuckled. "I’m sorry. That was hitting below the belt."
Garret released a long breath. "Miss
Burke--"
"Amy," she softly insisted as she watched his profile.
He reached forward to take up the action of stirring his coffee again. "Amy," he corrected, "my actions last night
have put you into an awkward situation, to say the least. If you wish to bow out of your role within
this movie, I do not blame you in the least."
Amy retrieved her cup and saucer to take a sip. Then she simply stared down at the slightly wavering
caramel-colored liquid. "Do you want me
to?" Garret didn’t answer, so Amy
changed her gaze to his profile. "I’ve
never run away from anything in my life, Garret, but if you want me to quit… I
will. This is your movie."
Garret finally turned his head to meet her gaze. "You’re an odd one, Miss Amy Burke," he said simply.
Amy slightly smiled as she sipped her coffee. "And why’s that?"
"You do not take advantage. You do
not chase fame and fortune as a parched man chases mirages for a taste of
non-existent water. You are unlike any
young woman previously met."
Amy chuckled. "And that’s a bad
thing?"
"Intriguing, yes. Bad?" Garret shook his head, still gauging her as
she sipped her coffee. "No. I don’t believe so."
Amy ran a finger lightly around the rim of her coffee cup, watching its
trail around with twinkling eyes.
"Thank you. I like being
intriguing."
Garret continued to watch her. "I
believe choosing you as Aeris Gainsborough to be the best choice made thus
far."
Amy actually flushed. "I appreciate
that, but I think your Sephiroth will make the movie. He’s a wonderful character, and you’re just the man to carry the
role."
"Flattery has just earned you a pay-raise."
Amy laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she looked over at
him. "The only pay-raise I need is to
hear you recite more."
Garret’s lips twitched as he regarded her.
Then, much to Amy’s surprise, he began to softly quote "‘A woman’s face
with Nature’s own hand painted / Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion;
/ A woman’s gentle heart but not acquainted / With shifting change as is false
women’s fashion; / An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, /
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth…’"
Garret continued to watch her face.
Amy sniffed and whispered "Thank you for choosing that one. It’s one of my favorites."
Garret faintly smiled.
"Shakespeare. Always the tool to
a woman’s heart."
Amy chuckled. "Oh, I don’t
know. Sir Philip Sydney has some
wonderful works. And I know of a poem
by Queen Elizabeth that I love to death."
"On Monsieur’s Departure?" Garret asked.
Amy nodded while taking another sip of coffee. "That’s the one."
Garret retrieved his coffee with one hand while motioning with the
other. "You must recite it."
"After your performance of Shakespeare?" she asked, wide-eyed.
Garret chuckled, motioning again for her to recite. "Come, come."
Amy set down her cup and saucer and then wiped her palms on her jeans. "Alright," she whispered. "Let’s see."
Amy cleared her throat before taking in a deep breath to set the inner
mood. Then she softly and intensely
quoted "‘I grieve and dare not show my discontent, / I love and yet am forced
to seem to hate, / I do, yet dare not say I ever meant, / I seem stark mute but
inwardly do prate. / I am and not, I freeze and yet am burned, / Since from
myself another self I turned.’" Amy
closed her eyes as her spirit searched out the words, lifting her hands to her
chest in movement and mood of the poem.
"‘My care is like my shadow in the sun, / Follows me flying, flies when
I pursue it, / Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done. / His too familiar
care doth make me rue it. / No means I find to rid him from my breast, / Till
by the end of things it be suppressed.’"
Amy shook her head, sadness blanketing her expression. "‘Some gentler passion slide into my mind, /
For I am soft and made of melting snow; / Or be more cruel, love, and so be
kind. / Let me or float or sink, be high or low, / Or let me live with some
more sweet content, / Or die and so forget what love ere meant.’"
Garret lowered his cup and saucer to the coffee table with a slight clink,
making Amy give a startled jump as her eyes focused on his face. He softly applauded. "Bravo, Amy. Bravo."
Amy flushed and quickly retrieved her coffee. "Stop. It wasn’t that
good."
"On the contrary, absolutely wonderful," he contradicted as he again took up
his cup. "Have you recited in public
often?"
Amy shook her head. "Not
recently. I did when I still studied at
NYU. It was required as part of my
grade."
Garret nodded, and then he suddenly looked to his watch. "Blast."
He set down his cup and saucer as he stood.
Amy watched him with wide eyes.
"What’s the matter?"
"I’ve a meeting scheduled for 20 minutes hence." Garret made his way to the door, Amy following after him. "Now I haven’t the time to change," he
mumbled.
"I’m sorry. You should have told
me."
"Nonsense. You aren’t to
blame." Garret opened the door and
turned; his expression thoughtful. "Let
us postpone this afternoon’s rehearsal until tomorrow. Then I shall inform you of my decision."
Amy nodded, holding his gaze. "Drive
carefully. It’s getting about the time
the crazies are out."
Garret continued to look down at her with an odd expression. "‘They that have power to hurt and will do
none…’"
One side of his lips twitched upward as the other seemed almost to say
‘Hmm.’ Then he stroked Amy’s cheek with
the back of a finger before turning away to stride toward the elevator with
long steps, long white hair streaming behind.
Amy stared after him, eyes wide.
When he entered the elevator, he sent her a smile as he slightly
bowed. Then the elevator closed.
Amy closed the front door and leaned against it with a slow breath. Then she smiled and lowered her gaze to her
feet. A part of her knew his change of
heart could only be another avenue taken to get what he wanted – after all, who
said ‘no’ to Garret Harrison – but Amy had dedicated herself to thinking the best
of people. She wasn’t going to do any
less than that for him.
Knock knock
Amy gave a startled twitch and turned to open the door, which she hadn’t
chained or locked yet. Garret stood on
the other side. Amy blinked and then
smiled. "I seriously doubt you’re back
from your meeting already. And I refuse
to let you flake out of it just so we can recite more poetry to each other, fun
as it is."
Garret sent her his usual attractive and inviting smile. "No, no.
I haven’t become as irresponsible as that."
Amy leaned against the door jam and crossed her arms, her lips still tickled
with a smile. "Then what can I do for
you, Mr. Harrison?"
Garret’s eyes twinkled with what must have been mischief. One side of his lips twitched slightly
higher as he leaned against the same side of the door, barely four inches from
her. "‘Sweet Helen, make me immortal
with a kiss: / Her lips sucks forth my soul, see where it flies! / Come Helen,
come, give me my soul again. / Here will I dwell, for heaven be in these lips,
/ And all is dross that is not Helena!’"
Amy could better control her wilting resolve now that she was more prepared
for Garret’s charm and flirtation.
Although his aroma of innate passion and intensity was
intoxicating. "Dr. Faustus;
Scene 13," she named softly. "I think I
liked the play better than the opera Faust, although the songs are
wonderful." Amy reached out with a
single finger, which she pressed against his chest to push him gently out of
her personal space. "Now, seriously, what
can I do for you?"
Garret chuckled as he straightened.
"I have returned with an invitation to accompany."
Amy arched an eyebrow. "’Accompany’
you to what?"
"My meeting."
"Your--" Amy straightened while her
arms went swiftly to her sides.
"What?" She shook her head. "I couldn’t. It’s… That’s… Isn’t it private?"
"I suppose they might construe it as such," he acknowledge with a slight
nod, "but I have enjoyed our conversations too much to wish an end to them."
Amy flushed at the compliment but continued her protest. "Garret, I… While I appreciate the offer, I
really don’t think that would be a good idea.
I would feel as if I were barging in on not only your private life, but
theirs too. I couldn’t do that."
Garret leaned against the door jam yet again, arms crossed as he slightly
smirked down at her. "Even though the
attendance may mean an assurance of the pinnacle to your career?"
Amy’s eyes widened as her mouth dropped slightly open. She sputtered less than gracefully before
finally saying passionately "Especially then! I can’t accept special favors from you, Garret."
"And why is that?" he asked, still smiling.
"If there’s going to be any kind of ‘pinnacle’, I would like to earn it on
my own."
Garret accepted the point with another slight nod. "Yes, I acknowledge the importance of that, but who is to say you
haven’t earned this opportunity?
Amy, I can very easily consider these shared meetings a type of ongoing
audition."
Amy shook her head. "But they
weren’t," she insisted with a bit more intensity than she wanted. Amy cleared her throat. "Garret, I would never use you like
that."
Garret regarded her a moment, the upward lift of his lips a bit more
prominent than before. "No, I don’t
suppose you would. Perhaps there
is the attraction?"
Amy blinked as she leaned slightly back.
"What?" she asked carefully.
Garret’s eyes traced her features as he whispered "‘Who will in fairest book
of Nature know / How Virtue may best lodged in beauty be, / Let him but learn
of Love to read in thee, / Stella, those fair lines, which true goodness
show. / There shall he find all vices’ overthrow, / Not by rude force, but
sweetest sovereignty / Of reason, from whose light those night-birds
fly.’" He adjusted his crossed arms as
his gaze again met hers. "Yes, Sir
Philip Sydney has the appropriate words…
You continue to intrigue and surprise, a surprisingly sensual aspect I
had forgotten existed of a woman."
Amy stared up at him in muted shock and disbelief before a smile blossomed
onto her face. She shook her head with
a chuckle, and then she reached out to take both of his upper arms in her hands
and push him a step back from her door jam.
"You have a meeting to get to, Mr. Harrison. Punctuality, remember?"
Garret embraced her face in his hands, Amy’s smile vanishing with the motion,
and said "‘But, ah, Desire still cries, give me some food.’" And then he briefly and tenderly kissed her.
Amy’s heart danced at the gentle passion of it, but she still pulled his
hands from her face and her lips from his – much strength drained with the
effort – and shook her head slightly.
"Garret…"
Garret gave a bit of a nod with a whispered "‘My lips are sweet, inspired
with Stella’s kiss.’"
Amy reluctantly smiled as she pulled her hands free from his. "You know all the lines – Shakespeare and
Sir Philip Sydney both – that make a girl’s heart flutter, don’t you?"
Garret smirked. "Too many years of
practice with gaining a lady’s favor."
Amy nodded, and then her expression became serious. "But what does Garret Harrison say to
woo a lady?" She reached out to gently
touch his chest where his heart/soul was.
Garret’s gaze lowered to the action.
"What’s in there?" Amy asked softly.
Garret stared at her finger touching his chest for a long moment before
lifting a hand to pull her touch away.
"I had best go," he said as he met her gaze. "Until tomorrow."
Amy nodded, submerging her hands deep into her pockets when he released his
hold. "Alright. Have fun," she said softly.
Garret turned away and headed slowly for the elevator.
"Garret?" Amy called suddenly.
Garret stopped and turned. "What is
it?"
Amy cleared her throat. "You can
call me whenever you want. Or stop by…
Or… whatever."
A slight smile lightened Garret’s serious expression. "While I doubt my schedule will permit, I
appreciate the offer."
Amy nodded as she lowered her gaze to her toes. She rocked back onto her heels.
"I know, I… I just wanted to… to let you hear the invitation, I guess."
Garret remained quiet for a moment.
"Thank you, Amy," he finally said.
She peeked up at him with a slight smile.
"Sure."
And then Sir Garret Harrison gave a slight bow and turned again for the
elevator. The door closed, sealing away
his smile and releasing Amy’s heart.
She let out a slow breath.
"Where’s Garret Harrison?" she whispered. Then she turned and entered her apartment, closing the door
softly behind her.
(To all of those who abhor sappiness and poetic nonsense: BEWARE!)
Amy looked up from her notebook computer at the desk in her room when there was a light tap on her bedroom door. She turned slightly in her chair to look over her shoulder. "It’s open."
Renee opened the door and leaned against the frame. "I’m heading to work, Aims. I’ll call in sick if you need to talk or shop, or even just walk in the park."
Amy smiled. "Sorry for ignoring you lately, Renee."
"And moping, and mumbling under your breath, and staring out the window sighing and looking pathetic." Renee stepped into the room and sat on Amy’s bed. Amy turned to look at her. "I’m kind of worried about you, Aims. And you won’t talk to me about what’s bugging you."
"I’m sorry, Ren."
"You don’t need to be sorry, Aims, just let me know what’s got you down."
Amy smiled. "I’m just a little distracted, Ren. Promise."
Renee released a deep breath as she gave a shrug of her shoulders. "Alright, but promise to talk to me if whatever it is gets worse. Okay? We’ve been friends too long to stop talking to each other now."
"I will."
Renee smiled as she stood. "Alright, well I better scoot. Maybe we can see a movie tonight?"
Amy nodded with a smirk. "Only if I get to choose."
"Deal. See ya later, Aims."
"Bye, Ren. Have fun at work."
"No promises."
And a few seconds later Amy heard the front door close and the deadbolt lock. Amy didn’t like the feeling that she couldn’t tell Renee about everything going on with Garret – whatever ‘everything’ was – but Renee wouldn’t have understood. Renee already had a set idea of what Garret was like.
Amy sighed as she saved what little work she’d done on her script. The phone on her desk twittered. Amy picked it up as she set to work shutting down the laptop. "Hello."
"Hi, Aims. Did you want to have pizza for dinner tonight? I could pick up a pie on the way home."
"How about Chinese instead?" Amy asked as she closed the laptop. "We haven’t had Chinese for a long time."
"You know, that sounds pretty good. Anything special, or just whatever?"
"Whatever, but can you get pork fried rice instead of chicken?"
"Sure. See ya later, sweetie."
"Bye." Amy replaced the receiver with a sigh. It immediately rang again. "Hello."
"Sorry, Aims. Forgot to ask you about the dry cleaning. Can you pick it up? I’ll pay you back. Promise."
"Sure, Ren," Amy said with a smile.
"Thanks. Bye."
"Bye." Amy shook her head with a chuckle as she set the phone down. It rang and Amy laughed. "Hello."
"I swear this is the last time."
"It’s okay, Ren. What did you need?"
"Can you drop the bills off at the mailbox? I meant to grab them, but I completely spaced it."
"Don’t worry about it, Ren. I’ll take care of it."
"Thanks. I appreciate it. See ya."
"Bye, Ren." Amy chuckled.
Amy replaced the receiver, waited for it to ring again, and then made her way out of her room. The phone rang just as she made her way to the couch. She sat with a quick breath and picked up the phone. "Hello."
"Good morning, Amy. This is Garret. Have I called too early?"
Amy blinked as she sat up. "No. Renee just left for work and I was about to make myself breakfast. What’s up?"
"I’m afraid I shan’t be available to meet after all. Something has come up."
Amy arched an eyebrow. "That’s alright, Garret. I completely understand. I had a few errands to run myself."
There was a moment or two of silence before Garret spoke again. "I will call if there is a change in my schedule."
"Sounds good to me. I guess I’ll talk to you later." Amy waited for the click, but it didn’t come. "Was there something else?" Like why you’re giving me the brush off? Then again, Amy didn’t blame him. First she’d said ‘no’ to his advances, then she had practically dared him to reveal himself to possible rejection by being true to Garret Harrison and leaving Shakespeare and other poets out of the picture. "Garret? Hello?"
Click
Amy looked down at the phone with a raised eyebrow before thoughtfully replacing it on the receiver. No rehearsals for you this week, I bet. Amy sighed and went to make breakfast.
*
Amy was rinsing out her bowl and setting it in the sink when the phone rang. Amy shook the water off her hands, wiping them on her flannel trousers as she hurried to the phone on the end-table by the couch. "Hello."
"Hey you. How’s it going?"
Amy arched an eyebrow at the male voice. "It’s going fine. Thanks. What can I do for you?"
"I thought maybe we could get together and rehearse some of the scenes. I’m bored, and I think I’ve got them memorized enough for us to work on timing and stuff."
Amy sat in the couch with a smirk. "Mark, how in the world did you get this number?"
"I looked it up in the phone book. How else? You think Shepherd’s going to give me the phone number of the best looking girl in the flick? Hell no!"
Amy shook her head as she pressed a hand up against her forehead. She released a deep breath. "Well, as a matter of fact, I was wanting to get some pre-shooting rehearsal in."
"Great! Where do you live?"
Amy gave a shrug of her shoulders with an expression of ‘sure, why not’ and gave him her address and apartment number. "Just don’t forget your script."
Mark laughed. "Of course not. That’s the only reason I’m coming over."
Amy arched an eyebrow. "Well, whether that’s the case or not, that’s all we’re going to be doing."
"Alright. We’ll see you in a few."
Click
Amy replaced the receiver very slowly, staring at it as her instinct told her what she’d agreed to was a very bad idea. Mark was likely just as much – or more of – a wolf than Garret had turned out to be. Amy sighed and looked away from the phone. She hated thinking of anyone that way. Especially when they’re usually always plugged into that category anyway. So why wouldn’t Mark and Garret and anyone else continue to act that way? It was expected of them. And it’s definitely easier than trying to be in a relationship with someone.
Amy sighed again, resting her head back on the couch as she stared at the ceiling. "‘Love what art thou? A vain thought / In our minds by fant’sy wrought. / Idle smiles did thee beget, / While fond wishes made the net / Which so many fools have caught.’"
Amy shook her head. Then, refusing to be pathetic and miserable, she stood and went to change.
The knock announcing Mark’s arrival sounded after Amy had finished her shower, changing, and brewing a fresh pot of coffee. She set her honey-covered spoon into her mug before making her way to the door. Mark looked very sexy in his black Tommy Hilfiger jeans and same-brand T-shirt with the American flag across the front.
Amy stepped back with a "Come on in" and then closed – but not locked – the door behind him. She motioned to the couch. "Have a seat. Coffee?"
"No, thanks." Mark set his script on the coffee table as he looked around. "Hey. You’ve got a nice place. A little small, but nice."
Amy smirked as she finished making her coffee. "Thanks. Ren and I like it."
"It kind of reminds me of the first apartment I had in L.A.."
Amy returned from the kitchenette with her coffee and sat beside him – not too close – as she set the coffee onto the waiting coaster. "Yeah, those first apartments hold a lot of memories, don’t they?"
"Sure do. Good and bad." Mark spread his arms along the back of the couch, as Amy knew he would. "So, how long you been in New York?"
"About five years," Amy told him as she gathered her script and leaned back.
"Really? I’ve only been here about 18 months. You should show me around and tell me what’s what."
"Oh. Doesn’t Vanessa have the time to do that?" Amy plugged without looking over at him.
Mark laughed. "Oh no. Don’t tell me you believe those gossip rags. Vanessa and I are… friends."
"Uh-huh," Amy said in a tone that clearly said ‘suuuure’.
"Oh come on, Amy. You know I only have eyes for you."
Amy shook her head with a chuckle. "And every other pretty girl that walks just the right way."
"Ouch. That hurts."
Amy laughed as she looked over at his feigned expression of pain. "Don’t try the smooth works on me, Mark Frasier. I’ve seen and heard them all, and I’m not moved or in the least bit atwitter. Let’s just be friends and do the best we can as the roles we have. Deal?"
Mark’s expression melted to a smile. "Sure, but you can’t blame a guy for trying, can ya?"
"Sure I can, because you used less than unique material," Amy teased, laughing.
Mark’s smile vanished as he stared at her, open-mouthed. "That’s so mean," he said in a hushed voice.
Amy laughed harder, her eyes watering as she leaned forward with a shake of her head. "It’s the truth, and you know it," she accused when she could speak. She reached for her coffee. "Now come on. We’ve got to get some work done."
Mark crossed his arms with a surprisingly boyish and cute expression of pouting. "I don’t want to anymore."
Amy set aside her script and moved back into the corner of the couch, tailor-style. "Fine. I’ll just enjoy my coffee and stare at you, all the while making funny faces." It was like hanging out with her younger brother.
One of Mark’s lips twitched, and then he changed his gaze to Amy’s, who was performing one of the silly faces promised. He laughed. "I wish I had a camera. I’d post that on the internet and get Bo coup bucks from the tabloids for the story."
"Fine. I don’t care in the least. After all, I’m going home after this."
Joking and teasing vanished from Mark’s expression. "Are you serious about that? I know you said it before but… Why not make the most of the fame and--"
"And do what?" Amy interrupted with a slight wide-eyed expression. She watched him from over her coffee cup. "Dread reading the paper and the magazines because of the newest bit of untrue or exaggerated gossip printed about me and a friend? Put up with the droves of newspaper reporters, photographers, and overzealous fans that’ll track me wherever I go? Sacrifice my privacy to the fickle world of film and screen?" Amy shook her head. "Sorry. I’m not going to do that. Sure, all the attention is great at first. But year after year, month after month?" She shook her head again. "I don’t want to lose who I am to that."
Mark studied her with a thoughtful expression. "Then why the movie? Why even start the ball rolling if you weren’t going to pick it up?"
Amy shrugged as she changed her gaze to her coffee. "I only went to the audition because Ren asked me to. I figure there’s a reason I got picked, so I might as well follow through. I’ve never quit anything in my life."
"So even if you make it big, and win awards, and get instant recognition, you’re still going to go back home to teach?"
Amy smiled and met his gaze again. "Hey, if I get all that, maybe the kids will actually listen to what I have to say and learn something? Maybe that’s why I’m here? Maybe a kid needing purpose and direction will get that when he or she enrolls in my class?"
Mark smiled. "You know, you and Nessie think a lot alike."
Amy arched an eyebrow. "Nessie?"
Mark laughed. "Whoops. I wasn’t supposed to say that. She’s going to kill me."
Amy’s mouth dropped open. "You’re talking about Vanessa Heron, aren’t you? You are more than friends!"
Mark grimaced. "Stop. You’re giving me the creeps." He sat forward and grabbed his script. "Let’s just rehearse."
Amy chuckled as she unfurled herself from the couch and set her coffee on the table. She took up her own script. "Okay. What scene did you want to do? You want to read through them all, in chronological order?"
"Sure. Let’s see… Scene 10 is the first one. No, wait. The first one’s earlier, in Scene 3 after I bomb the Reactor."
"You’re right. There’s only a couple lines, though."
"We should still make sure they flow."
And that’s what the two did most of the morning. They decided to pass the scenes where she only had one or two lines, focusing instead on the bulkier ones that would be more pivotal to the movie. Amy laughed and teased Mark during the rehearsal of the scene titled ‘Miss Cloud’. Then Mark was able to get a little back at her when they did their best to rehearse the scene titled ‘Midnight Date’, opting to kiss the non-existent Evil Dragon King rather than her as the Princess. All in all, they were having a blast.
Amy glanced at her watch as they neared the ‘Temple of the Ancients’ scene. "Shoot. It’s already noon."
"I thought I was getting a little hungry." Mark set aside his script. "Let’s go grab a bite to eat."
Amy shook her head. "Sorry, Mark. I can’t. I’ve got errands."
"I’ll drive ya."
Amy smiled. "Thanks, but I like having the time to myself. You’d just be bored to tears anyway."
Mark and Amy stood, and Amy followed Mark to the door. She opened it. "Thanks for the fun, Mark. It was like hanging out with Geoffrey again. My brother."
Mark grimaced. "Brother? Damn. Not a chance in hell, huh?"
Amy laughed. "Sorry, Mark. Save that for ‘Nessie’."
Mark smirked. "Don’t you dare say that in front of her. She’ll skin me alive." Mark gestured down the hall. "Why don’t I escort you to the front at least?"
"Okay." Amy grabbed her purse and the mail from the knick-knack table beside the front door and then scooped up her keys. Then she closed and locked the door behind her.
They chatted about the scenes they rehearsed, which lines needed to be changed to make it easier to say, and which ones should be scrapped altogether as they descended in the elevator and proceeded through the lobby to the entry. Amy dropped her and Renee’s mail off with the desk clerk and then exited the building. Mark bid her farewell, but only after telling her he’d call her that evening to tell her whether or not they’d be able to rehearse the following day. Then he jogged across the street, piled into his red Corvette, and squealed away. Amy watched him with a shake of her head and a slight smirk before exchanging pleasantries with the doorman and turning away toward the dry cleaners.
Rehearsing with Mark had been fun, but she had really looked forward to rehearsals with Garret. After all, he was only in one or two scenes with her throughout the entire movie. One of which happened to be the scene where his character killed her. Amy had even hoped to persuade Garret to rehearse some of his more dramatic scenes for her, with her reading for whatever other character was involved. At least I’ll be there to see them during shooting. I guess that’s better than nothing. Better than nothing, yes. Better than reciting plays and poetry with Sir Garret Harrison? Amy sighed. No.
Amy gave a shrug. Oh well. It wasn’t like I was in his league or anything. Apparently I was just the newest thing. But she had truly hoped that hadn’t been the case. In fact, yesterday she had really felt the click. She had even thought that he had spoken to her with respect. Now she didn’t know what to think.
Amy released a slow breath. Well if he calls to bow out of tomorrow’s rehearsal, I’m going to ask him what the problem is. Honesty and communication was always the best policy in any kind of relationship. Even in friendship… Shoot. Amy knew she needed to tell Renee. Alright. I’ll do it tomorrow after I’ve had a chance to talk to Garret. Amy gave a nod and then turned into the dry cleaners.
*
Amy checked her pockets for her keys with a frown as she stepped off the elevator, dry cleaning in hand. "Shoot," she mumbled. "Don’t tell me I stuffed them in my purse…"
Amy slung the dry cleaning over her arm and tried to use both hands for the search of her keys as she stepped down the aisle toward her apartment. When she heard a clearing of the throat, Amy halted with a blink and slowly looked up. Sir Garret Harrison stood outside her apartment door with a somewhat serious expression on his face. He was dressed in what must have been the best hanging pair of silk slacks and a pin-striped Perry Ellis dress shirt under a gray cashmere sweater-vest.
Amy started forward again, key search forgotten. "Well hello," she greeted with a smile. She came to stand across from him, he smelled of something wonderfully musky, and held his gaze as she gave a slight chuckle. Garret silently stared down at her. "It’s times like these that I really wish I had a cell phone or a pager," Amy said with a continued smile. A very welcome feeling of giddiness brought a twinkle to her eyes. "Then you could have called to tell me you were here and I would have hurried a little faster than I did."
One side of Garret’s lips slightly twitched upward, but he still didn’t say anything.
Amy was attacked by an unwelcome emotion of uncertainty and anxiety. "Are you up to rehearsing that scene then?" she asked as she passed him, again searching for her keys. She found them in the furthest pocket and moved to unlock the door. "Mark and I read through most of the others this morning, so--"
"Frasier?"
"Uh-huh," Amy said, all-the-while very aware of the slightly taut tone of Garret’s voice. She didn’t turn from her duty of unlocking the front door, though, because she didn’t want him to think there was anything to Mark’s presence there at her apartment but rehearsal. "We read through the longer scenes, reworking phrases and things here and there so that it flowed better. It was fun. Like hanging out with my little brother."
Amy opened the door and stepped in, placing her keys and purse on the knick-knack chest to her left. "Please excuse Renee and my breakfast dishes in the sink. I didn’t have a chance to do those before stepping out on my errands. Rehearsal with Mark made it kind of impossible, too." She faced Garret with a smile, noticed that he had followed her into her apartment, and then motioned behind her to the couch. "Have a seat. Coffee? Or not?"
"No, thank you."
"Water?"
"Yes."
Amy gave a nod, her face apparently permanently decorated with her slight and very welcoming smile, and made her way to the kitchen. "Good idea if we’re going to be doing more speaking. I think I swallowed all my spit this morning with Mark."
Amy heard the wonderfully relieving sound of Garret’s chuckle as he made his way to the couch.
Amy retrieved a couple tall glasses, filled them from the filtered water in the fridge, and then made her way back to the main room. Garret looked delightfully comfortable nestled in the corner of the couch with his arms along the back and the arm. Amy set a glass onto the coaster on the end table to his left with a smiled ‘you’re welcome’ before going around to sit in the middle of the couch beside him.
Amy took a sip of her water as she stared at her script on the coffee table. Mark had accidentally left his. Oh well. At least it will be here for tomorrow’s rehearsal… Amy cleared her throat before looking over at Garret. He stared at the glass of water in his hand. "Why the brush-off this morning?" she asked.
Garret’s expression was serious, yet not. "I apologize for that. I suppose I wanted to regain some semblance of control." His lips twitched. "I have always been the instigator of my relationships and their direction."
"I’m not trying to control you, Garret," Amy assured softly.
His brow lowered in a very minuscule frown. "I believe you, yet a part of me feels that in itself is the manipulation."
Amy nodded, still watching him. "I can understand that."
Garret moved his eyes to catch her gaze. "I believe I would trust you more if you had allowed me to make love to you."
Amy smirked and looked away. She traced the rim of her water glass with her index finger. "Garret, when we recited together yesterday and the day before that… we were making love. You were captivating every little bit of who I am. I let you see me. I don’t do that with just anyone, you know."
Garret’s expression seemed thoughtful as he examined her profile. "No, I don’t suppose you would."
Amy gave a slight shake of her head as she sighed, turning her gaze back to him. Garret continued to watch her, his expression guarded and withdrawn in the protection of something she didn’t understand. Maybe…
"‘I look at you across the room and watch,’" Amy began in a soft voice, and she immediately recognized the glint in his eyes as his mind searched for the poet. "‘You stroke your chin and lip as you think, your mind working wonders which you write on a blank stage. Soul hidden behind guarded eyes yet brightly shining, through me. The timbre of your voice sending shivers, splinters through my heart. I look at you, across the room, and just watch.’"
Garret’s mind gave up the search. "From what have you quoted? Its simplicity hides an unexpected depth and… almost a bittersweet agony."
Amy looked away to set her glass back on the coaster. "It’s one of mine."
Garret blinked. "Yours?"
Amy nodded, and then she turned in the couch to face him. His eyes held a twinkle of intrigue and surprise. "That came from here." She raised a hand to her heart. "From Amy Burke and no one else. Me. Plain and simple." Amy lowered her hand as she continued to hold his gaze. "Who’s Garret Harrison?" she asked quietly.
Garret didn’t respond, but he didn’t lower his eyes from her gaze, either.
Amy sighed deep. "That’s what I was talking about yesterday. What hides in your heart? What makes you sad? What makes you angry? What moves you? What makes Garret Harrison Garret Harrison?" He still didn’t respond, so Amy lowered her gaze to her hands. She lightly rubbed them together. "That’s what I want to find out about you, Garret, because I really want to know. I also know that probably scares you to death," she finished softly.
Amy felt as if she’d confessed to a mouse that she would do her best to eat them.
Garret cleared his throat, drawing Amy’s attention. He stared at his tight grip on the water glass. "I find that your complete interest heightens my attraction."
Surprise colored Amy’s expression, muting the brightness of his confession. "Hasn’t anyone ever been interested in you before?"
"In my talents as a performer?" Garret responded carefully. "Yes. In my fame and title? In the poetry and plays I recite at will? Again, yes." He finally met her gaze. "What else matters?"
Amy regarded him intensely, silence her only response. When Garret looked away, Amy reached out to cover his hand that rested on the back of the couch. He met her gaze again. "Garret, your intimate knowledge of literature is definitely your greatest attraction. The way you submerse yourself so completely into its performance. The tones and expressions. I know I’ve never seen anyone else live it the way you do. That’s why I want to get to know what drives you."
"Yet how will you discover what even I do not know?"
Amy smiled, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she tightened her clasp on his hand. "You know. If you didn’t, you couldn’t draw on that passion and intensity for each performance. You just don’t look very closely because… well, I think you’re a little afraid of what you’ll find."
Garret pulled his hand from hers and stood, but he didn’t step away from the couch. He only stood there with his back to her, staring at the door with his arms at his sides. Amy stared up at him for a hesitant moment before pushing herself from the couch and moving to stand in front of him. With his height, he easily stared over her head at the door behind.
Amy examined his blank expression. She pushed her lips to one side of her mouth as she watched him, and then she took his face in her hands and directed his gaze downward. It seemed that he met her gaze reluctantly. "Garret, describe the attraction."
Garret’s eyes flashed with a touch of anger as he drew her hands from his face. "Do not patronize me."
Amy shook her head as she carefully pulled her hands from his. "I’m not. I promise. I’ll prove it." She held his face in her hands again and looked straight into his eyes. "‘I gaze at you with warmth, do you feel me? I speak to you with smiling tones, can you hear them sing? Petals of fragrant feelings float about me to wither and die, unshared. Should you reach out your hand, my delicate petals will soothe the surrender. My soul will lull your agony. My gaze will warm your loneliness.’"
Garret stared down at her with bright eyes for a long moment before shaking his head and pulling her hands from his face. "I cannot. The words that come are not mine."
Amy nodded as she refused to let him release her hands. "I know, Garret, but try. Push past those words to what you see and then describe how you feel." Amy saw the helplessness in his expression… She raised a hand to cup his jaw. "The helplessness I see… It chills my heart that I cannot rescue you from that which you fear. A surrender to self. An escape from the path you have traveled so often."
Garret held her gaze in silence, and Amy could see the painstaking search to find the words she so wanted him to say.
Amy caressed his cheek with her thumb and whispered "Come, poetic heart. Follow me, your muse, and speak from your soul."
Garret’s expression remained serious and almost pained until, finally, something fell away and his countenance softened. "This soul has never ventured into the brightness of what I see glimmering in thine eyes," he said. "Darkness has been my escape, long since chilling the words of love and creation into the walls of stone and suspicion."
Amy’s lips lilted upward. "And yet my brightness beckons you still. Come and live within the warmth of my gaze to hear the song of my soul. Come, poet of shadow, into the morning of adventure I so eagerly offer. Delight in my simplicity and I will rest in your intensity."
Garret moved his hands to cup her face. "Such falsely labeled passion, sweet muse, alights my soul with wings. Your warmth causes me to forget my humble and mortal state, flying as I am on the petals of your emotion to that pedestal which serves as my sun."
"Then fly higher still," Amy whispered, tears gathering, "and free this muse from the… from the…" Amy shook her head as she closed her eyes.
"Open thine eyes that my inspiration might return," Garret said as he pressed his lips against her cheek. "Return thy warmth lest this coldness invade my very soul."
Amy’s laugh merged happiness and tears as she pulled back, her eyes bright and her cheeks glistening in the light of the room. "Peace, poet, peace that your muse might rest," she said through the tears.
Garret’s lips rose in a hint of a smile as he brushed stray hairs from her cheeks and forehead. Amy continued to smile up at him, enjoying the closeness and the simple touch so much more than a passionate embrace.
Then Amy reached up to take his hand from her face, holding it in both of hers. She changed her gaze to stare at the palm. "See? I knew you could do it," she whispered as she caressed it. "And now this is where my heart is. I don’t know how to take it back. I don’t want to take it back." She raised her eyes to meet his gaze again, and her expression was serious and almost pleading as her lips tilted downward. "Don’t hurt me, Garret. Please?"
Garret cupped her face in his other hand. "Such was never my intent, sweet muse."
*
Amy looked at her watch. "Renee should be home soon." She looked over at Garret as he sat close beside her on the couch. "Are you sure you want to stay for dinner? She can be pretty harsh."
Garret looked up from where he studied the script to send Amy a reassuring smile. "If you remember, I also have a tendency toward harshness."
"I know. That’s why I think you should go home tonight and then stay for dinner tomorrow."
Garret’s eyes took in her expression before he spoke. "If such is what you want, Amy…"
"I want her to like you," Amy said as she lowered her eyes to the script in her own lap. "Right now, she doesn’t exactly hold a high opinion of you. If I can have a chance to talk to her about you…" Amy met Garret’s gaze again. "Although she’ll probably still accuse you of trying to get me in your sheets."
Garret chuckled as he closed the script and placed it on the coffee table. "Yes, well, that approach has already failed miserably. I doubt I shall attempt it again."
"That’s a depressing thought," Amy complained. "You just have to wait for the right moment is all."
Garret raised an eyebrow as he looked over at her. "And pray tell when is that?"
Amy shook her head. "Sorry, that’s your problem. I can’t take away all the mystery." Garret laughed and Amy smiled. "I think you’re the sexiest when you laugh."
"Yes, such a statement has been mentioned before, I believe."
Amy’s eyes widened. "Not by me."
Garret stood. "No." He offered his hand. Amy took it this time, accepting his help to stand. "Yet you are the first I have believed," he said, still holding her hand.
Amy’s smile twinkled in her eyes as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Wow. That makes me feel nice."
Garret’s eyes traveled her face. "What is it about you that holds me?" His blue gaze met her green one. "Amy, how am I to play a villain bent on your destruction when I find myself falling in love with you?"
Amy blinked, her smile fading. "What did you say?" she whispered.
Garret’s serious expression remained. "I have met my match in this role, Amy, and I am at a loss. This man has lost all hope, and yet I have found it. He has lost all sense of who he is, and yet you have opened my eyes to who I am. How can I return to the shadow of my previous life for this role when I want to live in brightness with you?"
Amy continued to blink up at him, speechless.
Garret’s face softened with a smile. "It seems my muse is silent. Ah well. Perhaps that is best." He placed a kiss on each of her cheeks. "Good evening, sweet muse. I will return tomorrow afternoon with a better understanding of the choreography of the scene. Be prepared to work hard."
Garret headed for the door, Amy still silent and unmoving as he unlocked and opened it. When he had nearly completely passed through, Amy blinked and hurried forward with a whispered "Garret, wait."
Amy arrived at the door as Garret turned to face her, smiling. "Yes?"
She blinked up at him. "Did you just say…" She motioned behind her. "Over there. Did you just say… Y-You’re falling in love with me?"
Garret chuckled as he leaned against the door frame. "Wasn’t that your intent when first you tickled my attention?"
Amy’s eyes were slightly wide. "I just wanted to get to know you better."
Garret caressed under her chin with a finger. "Yes, and there will be plenty of time for that now, won’t there?"
Amy absently nodded.
Garret watched her face a moment longer before leaning close, his lips hovering very near to hers. He closed his eyes. "Speak here the promise of a kiss, to be taken on the morrow," he said softly.
When Garret began to pull back, Amy embraced his face with her hands and touched her lips to his. "I freely give it now, that you might have the promise through the cold night," she whispered against them.
Garret took the promise, and the second and third that she also gave. Then he pulled very slowly back, their lips lingering as their eyes slowly opened to meet the others gaze. "Good evening, sweet muse."
Amy caressed his face with her hands before lowering them to her side. "Good evening, poet mine."
*
Renee entered to find Amy sitting content on the couch, softly smiling as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger and read her usual novel. But there was something about the smile that made Renee suspicious. She put the boxes of Chinese food on the bar counter, relieved herself of her shoes, coat, keys, and purse, and dropped down beside Amy with a deep breath.
"So, who did you kill and where’s the body?"
Amy lowered the novel with wide eyes. "Kill? Body? What are you talking about?"
"Yesterday you were moping. This morning you were distracted and still moping. Now? For lack of a better cliché, you look like the cat that ate the canary."
Amy closed her book and hugged it against her chest. "I have."
Renee arched an eyebrow. "Okay, I’m severely creeped out now."
Amy chuckled and leaned forward to place the book on the coffee table. "Renee, what I’m going to tell you will likely shock you right to death."
Renee crossed her arms. "Try me."
"Sir Garret Harrison is coming for dinner tomorrow."
Renee’s eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"For one, we’ve set up rehearsal times all of this week. For two, I invited him."
"Why?"
"Because I would like to get to know him better," Amy said patiently. "And I think you should too."
"Why?"
Amy laughed. "Because believe it or not, he’s a nice man. I think you two would get along great, if you gave him half a chance."
"Humph."
Amy gave Renee’s arm a gentle shove. "If you promise to be nice to him tomorrow, I’ll ask Mark Frasier to stay for dinner too."
Renee’s arms went fast to her sides as her eyes widened. "The Mark Frasier? You’re kidding!"
Amy shook her head. "Nope."
Renee pulled Amy into a tight embrace. "Oh my gosh! Mark Frasier!"
Amy laughed.
Mark didn't call like he had said he would, but Amy figured he forgot. Men had a tendency to do that. Well, wolfmen anyway, Amy thought
with a snigger. Renee was persuaded to
go to work, much as she wanted to call in sick so that she could meet and drool
over Mark Frasier when he arrived for rehearsal. Amy told Renee there was no guarantee he would show up, because
of the fact he didn't call, and so it would be best if Renee went to work.
Renee pouted the entire way from the apartment.
So Amy was finally left to enjoy her coffee, her morning devotional, and her
reading of Charles Dickens' Great Expectations, which she had begun to
think she would never finish.
The phone on the end table behind her twittered, and Amy smirked as she
picked it up. "Good morning,
Mark."
"Hey. How'd you do that?"
"This is about the same time you called me yesterday, only you were
supposed to call me last night."
"Sorry. Nessie and I--
Damn. I mean Vanessa and I went
out for a movie."
"If Gar-- Mr. Harrison catches you two, you're going to get into a lot
of trouble," Amy teased, knowing full well that Garret couldn't penalize
them. After all, weren’t they doing the
same thing?
"Why? Vanessa and I are just
friends."
"So. You were still
fraternizing."
"Nah. We were doing research
for the characters in the movie."
Amy arched an eyebrow, and then she laughed. "Whatever. Are we on
or off for rehearsal this morning?"
"On."
"Good. Can we go through scene
86? 'Aeris' Wood'? Some of the line's just aren't
clicking."
"Sure thing."
"Oh, and Mark?"
"Yeah."
"I don’t suppose you'd want to have dinner with me and Renee this
evening?"
"Are you kidding? Of course I
would!"
Amy laughed. "Don't say 'yes'
so fast. Mr. Harrison is invited
too."
"What? Why?"
"Because we've been rehearsing that death scene." Well, we're supposed to be rehearsing
that death scene, Amy thought with a slight smile. "I thought it would be nice to have
both of you stay for dinner as a way to thank you for helping me out. You don't have to if you don't want
to."
Mark hemmed and hawed before saying "If he stays out of my face, then
I'll come over."
"Alright, but you have to promise not to get in his face either. I understand you two have a bit of a bad
history, but that doesn't mean you can't try to be civil."
Mark grumbled. "Alright, sis."
Amy chuckled. "Thank you. Now get your butt over here so we can
rehearse."
Mark laughed. "Okay, okay. See you in a bit."
Click
Ring
"Hello?"
"And so the shadows of night are banished with such a whisper."
Amy's eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled into the phone. She nestled into the corner of the couch,
Charles Dickens forgotten as she hugged the novel to her chest. "I will whisper more if you but be
forever my knight of shadow."
Garret chuckled. "Good morning,
Amy."
"Good morning, Garret. Getting
ready to start your wild day?"
Garret chuckled again. "Yes,
and much as I wish I could say I have called only to hear your voice, I'm
afraid such isn't the case."
Amy's smile wavered. "You can't
come to rehearsal or dinner tonight, can you?"
"No. Max has requested my
presence at the meeting with the stunt company."
Amy's smile was sad. "That's
alright, Garret. You are the
Executive Producer. I've got to expect
you to bow out of the not-so-important meetings. I hate it, but it's not a surprise."
"My time with you is never considered 'not-so-important', Amy. The only reason I have agreed to attend the
dinner meeting this evening is due to the fact I know it will likely affect
your very life."
Amy closed her eyes to picture his face, his flowing white hair, his
magnificent blue eyes... "Thank you for that," she said softly.
"Ah," Garret whispered, "my muse sighs and I am
content."
Amy chuckled as she opened her eyes.
"Come, come, sweet poet, give your muse rest."
"What rest does she need whom controls the singing of my very
spirit?"
Amy's eyes twinkled. "Sing,
then, that your muse might relive your presence while you are so far
distant."
Garret released a deep breath.
"Much as I wish I could, Amy, I'm afraid I must go."
Amy nodded with a sad smile. "I
know. I'll see you tomorrow,
then."
There was a moment of silence.
"Amy, tell me that you will miss me."
Amy's throat tightened. "I will
miss you, Garret."
"No, softest and truest muse.
Tell me."
Amy sighed as she closed her eyes.
"Sweet poet, my world will be gray until once again your voice is
present to color my sky. Return swift,
that the delicate petals of my soul might again embrace you to the heart you
hold within the palm of your gentleness."
Amy's voice cracked, and she sniffed.
"I fear I die if your return be tardy even one breath. So please, sweet sweet poet, tarry not in
the presence of damsels and dragons."
"Surely I cannot tarry when my soul and heart are held captive within
your song and warmth. Be assured, sweet
muse. Fare thee well."
"Nay. Say not so. I beg of thee, sweet poet, bid me 'until our
dreams', for I shall surely seek you there."
"If so doing gives comfort... until our dreams, dearest muse."
Silence click
Amy replaced the receiver with a deep sigh.
"Until our dreams," she whispered.
*
knock knock knock
Amy opened the door with a smile that faded into a surprised blink. "M-Ms. Heron!"
Ms. Vanessa Heron smiled a genuine greeting as she gracefully motioned to
Mark beside her. "I'm afraid I
begged and whined until Mark promised to bring me. I missed our meeting that first day on-set and just had to
set it right."
Amy shook her head. "No,
no. It's fine! Come in.
Please."
Vanessa passed with an air of both refined sophistication and welcoming
interest. Her long, dark brunette hair
was simply braided, and beneath her long London Fog coat she was dressed in a
pair of casual black slacks and a silk blouse of dark blue. To Amy's delight and surprise, Vanessa Heron
seemed as normal as any other person Amy had met.
Mark sent Amy a boyishly guilty smile that clearly said 'sorry'. Amy waved it away with an expression of
'don't worry about it.' "Can I
offer you something? Coffee? Tea?
Water?"
Vanessa faced Amy and started slipping out of her coat. Mark made his way over to help, and Amy
found the entire scene adorably amusing.
"Do you have decaffeinated tea?"
"Better. I have herbal. Would you like some?"
"Yes. That would be
wonderful." Vanessa sat delicately
on the couch, still examining the furnishings and the decor as Mark sat close
beside her. "Oh Amy, I love your
apartment. It feels so much as a home
should."
Mark jerked a quick motion over his shoulder. "And check out her library.
You'd love it. She's got
everything you and Garret read."
"Oh how wonderful," Vanessa said with smiling eyes. She focused her attention back on Amy, who
was busily preparing the teapot and putting it on the stove. "I understand from Mark that you and
Garret have begun rehearsals?"
Amy smirked, but didn't turn.
"Yes, but he's got a meeting this evening, so we'll have to
postpone until tomorrow."
"Great. I think we need to work
on the 'Cloud's Sin' scene. I can't
remember which scene number it is."
Vanessa laughed, and the sound was musical and genuine. "Mark, you can't occupy all of Amy's
time. I have scenes to rehearse with
her as well."
Amy smiled wide as she moved to lean on the bar counter. "There's only three more days until
shooting starts. I don't think I have
enough time to rehearse with everyone."
"Which majorly sucks because Shepherd's filming your scenes first. He probably wants to get you out of his
hair."
"Mark," Vanessa chided.
"That wasn't necessary."
"It's the truth, though."
Amy arched an eyebrow.
"Why? What did I do to Mr.
Shepherd?"
Vanessa looked from Mark to Amy. Her
expression was muted regret. "You
weren't his first choice for Aeris."
"First choice? She wasn't even
close!"
Vanessa sent an attractive scowl to Mark beside her. "Mark Frasier," she scolded,
"what have I told you about tactless phrases like that?"
Mark ignored the scold as he held her gaze.
"It's the truth, and Amy knows it already."
"That is beside the point," Vanessa pressed.
"It's alright," Amy said.
Vanessa looked back over to Amy with an apologetic smile. "It's hardly that, but thank you. I find his tendency to blurt truths his
greatest attraction most of the time."
"Hey. 'He' is in the
room," Mark protested half-heartedly.
Vanessa reached over to rest a hand on Mark's knee as she looked over at
him. "Yes, dear," she said in
a clearly patronizing tone.
"Hey now. None of that. You promised."
Vanessa laughed with a tilting back of her head. Amy smirked. The woman
knew exactly what to do to look beautiful.
"I'm sorry, Mark."
Mark moved aside her braid to give her back some gentle rubs. "We'll have words later," he told
her with a meaningful look.
Vanessa chuckled before looking back over at Amy, who had set herself to
work at preparing Vanessa's tea.
"I would love to participate in the readings and rehearsals today,
Amy. If you don't mind."
"Of course I don't mind," Amy said as she brought out the tea cup
and saucer. She set it on the coaster
in front of Vanessa. "I'd love to
have you join us. You don't mind, Mark,
do you?"
Mark shook his head.
"Nope. I just wish she'd
have brought her costume."
Vanessa frowned as she slapped Mark somewhat firmly on the arm. "Mark!"
Mark and Amy laughed.
"For heaven's sake," Vanessa complained with fists on hips. "To be ridiculed by you of all people,
Mark. You know they cast me as
Tifa just to spite me."
Amy sat on the couch beside Vanessa.
"Don't believe that, Vanessa.
Tifa is a wonderfully complex character, and I think you're the only one
who can draw that out onto the screen."
Vanessa changed her gaze to Amy.
"She is complex, that I don't deny, but a bartender? Why couldn't they have written her as an
innkeeper or an armorer? Instead, I
must traipse around in a too-short skirt with a padded bra - that is simply
ridiculous in size - and do my best to be taken seriously." Vanessa sighed deeply as she lowered her
head and pinched the bridge of her nose.
Mark gently rubbed her back.
"Sorry, Nessie," he said in a tone that clearly conveyed he
felt like a jerk.
"Vanessa, it won't be that horrible," Amy consoled.
Vanessa sighed again as she lowered her hand. "Yes, I know, but to think the casting might be a plot to
sabotage my career... It breaks my heart."
"Your fans won't let that happen," Mark assured her.
"Mr. Harrison won't either," Amy added.
Vanessa looked over at Amy with a patient smile. "Amy, Garret is the one who suggested me for this
role."
Amy blinked as shock grabbed her by the throat. "What?"
"Garret and I were intimately involved at one time, he's quite the
charmer you know." Vanessa raised
her hands in a helpless gesture.
"I'm afraid I didn't handle the break-up very well, as in I didn't
word it correctly. I'm sure he went
away hurt and insulted. This is his
revenge."
Amy shook her head. "B-But...
But I'm sure he wouldn't do something like that. He wants this movie to be a success as much as the director does. After all, it's his reputation on the
line."
Vanessa nodded. "I'm not saying
that casting me as Tifa will jeopardize the success of the movie. If anything, my reputation will attract a
certain amount of attention from critics.
However, in casting me as Tifa, he is assured of attention while
slurring my reputation with an unspoken criticism to my personal
character."
"And why do you think he wanted me as Cloud, Amy?" Mark put
in. "Cloud's a puppet controlled
by the villain. He doesn't have a clue
about it, either. He's just a soldier
who hurts those he cares about because he's doing what he's been designed to
do: follow orders." Mark
scoffed. "Garret's made it
painfully obvious he thinks I'm just a robot doing what I have to do to get the
money and the attention I want."
Amy shook her head again, eyes wide.
"I don't... I can't believe that.
He cast the people he knew would do the best in the role. There wasn't a subversive motive."
Vanessa smiled. "You're welcome
to give him the shadow of the doubt, Amy.
After all, even the invincible Garret Harrison needs that every once and
a while. However, I know him too
well."
Amy lowered her gaze to her clenched hands as her mind reeled, her heart
nearly drowning under the wave of negative information. I can't... I can't believe it. I won't. Amy shook her head yet again, and she suddenly felt sick to her
stomach. Amy stood to her feet just as
Vanessa leaned forward to say "Are you all right? You look pale."
"If you'll excuse me," Amy whispered. "I need to take a second."
Mark and Vanessa exchanged a curious expression. "Did you need for us to leave?" Vanessa asked gently.
"N-No. It'll only take a
minute. I-I just need to be
alone."
Amy went to her room, closing the door softly behind her before turning on
her stereo - Offenbach's Tales of Hoffman already cued and ready - and
lying back on her bed. She stared at
the ceiling of her room with an arm over her forehead, blinking as thought
after tenacious thought attacked her view of Garret.
Amy's throat tightened, squeezing in on itself until she thought it would
choke her. Then she closed her eyes and
softly cried.
It only took Amy a couple of minutes to cry out her frustration and her
initial feelings of shock and disbelief.
Then her feelings for Garret and her obsession with seeing the best in
people took firm hold of the information and shoved it in the corner for a
later conversation with him. Once done,
she exited the room, assured the two she felt better, and promptly led the two
into rehearsal of shared scenes.
It was wonderful to get her mind off certain things.
Rehearsal went smoothly, with only a few changes in the wording here and
there, and the trio’s chemistry jumped off the page. Vanessa did an awesome job portraying jealousy of Aeris’ obvious
attraction to Cloud, and Mark did a spectacular job being ‘concerned’ for both
of them. To say the least, Vanessa,
Mark, and Amy all had fun.
Then Vanessa was reminding Mark of an appointment, Mark was bowing out of
the dinner that evening, and Amy was wishing them a pleasant good-bye while
accepting their promise to return the next day for more rehearsal. Amy leaned against the door with a deep
breath. Renee would be furious that
dinner with Mark Frasier had been cancelled, but Amy wasn’t in the mood to have
him over. I’ll just have to make it
up to her later.
A backstage pass would be the only ticket.
As expected, about the time Garret and Amy would normally begin their
rehearsal, Garret called.
"Hello," Amy greeted, and she could hear the reserved tone in her
voice. After all, she didn’t want to
start crying over the phone.
"As always, I have arrived too early and have forgotten my PDA."
Amy reluctantly smiled. "I’m sorry."
Silence. "Amy, there is no song in
your voice," Garret observed.
Amy traced the pattern of her flannel loungers on her knee, sitting as she
was tailor-style on the couch. "Nope."
"What has happened?" he asked carefully.
Amy cleared her throat. "I would
really rather not talk about it over the phone. Not this."
Garret released a long breath. "The
meeting may go quite late."
"I know," she said as she nodded. "Can
you stop by afterward anyway? I’ll nap
on the couch, that way I’ll hear your knock and you won’t wake Renee."
"Amy…"
"I don’t want to talk about this over the phone. It’s too impersonal." And
Amy’s voice caught in her throat.
Silence. "What have I done?" Garret
asked, and his voice was filled with dread.
Amy shook her head and took in a breath as she closed her eyes. "Please, Garret. Just come by later. You
deserve that."
Silence. "Very well."
"Thank you, Garret," she whispered.
Silence. Deep breath. "Did rehearsal go well with Mark?"
Amy reluctantly smiled. "It
did. He brought Vanessa, so we were
able to rehearse the scenes we share.
It was a lot of fun. Vanessa is
such a wonderful actress."
"Yes, she is. I am relieved Vanessa
accepted the role. I had begun to
believe Tifa’s complex character would be doomed to a stereotype of her outward
appearance. No one seemed to understand
her inner workings."
Amy blinked, her smile fading.
"Yes," she said slowly, "the death of her mother and father really hit
her hard, didn’t it?"
"As did her unrealized attraction and connection to Cloud Strife. So many of those whom auditioned could not
see her true nature. They did not
understand her history and how that would so completely affect her present." Garret chuckled. "I do apologize for going on.
The role of Tifa caused me no end of frustration. I truly believed I would need to cast Nicole
Kidman until I remembered Vanessa’s contract was soon to end. Thanks be to God Vanessa accepted the
role. I greatly feared she wouldn’t,
due to Tifa’s occupation and unfortunate choice of wardrobe."
Amy laughed. "I remember. Wasn’t she taking up those issues with the
head of wardrobe that first day at the studio?"
Silence. "Yes," Garret said
slowly. Silence. "Amy, there is a bit more song in your tone
than before. Should I take that as a
sign a bit of your troubled spirit has left?"
Amy closed her eyes with a slight nod and a small, hesitant smile. "A bit.
Talking to you has a tendency of doing that."
Deep breath. "I am glad. You worried me."
"I’m sorry," she said softly. "Can
you still come by? I won’t keep you out
too late. I promise."
"Of course I will come, Amy."
Silence. "Max is here. I had best go."
"Thanks for calling, Garret. I
needed it."
Silence. "Amy, there are many things
I have done which have pelted my conscience to no end. Please do not judge me too harshly by them."
Amy wiped a tear away. "Garret, you
know I give everyone as many chances as possible," she said softly. Amy sniffed. "I wouldn’t give you any less."
Garret chuckled. "Then my soul is
safe-- Ah. I have just received the evil eye from Max. Until this evening, sweet muse."
Amy’s eyes crinkled at the corners.
"Until this evening, poet mine."
chuckle beep click
*
tap tap tap
Amy stretched and gave a slight, sleepy moan.
tap tap tap tap "Amy" came a whisper.
Amy’s eyes snapped open. She sat up,
scooting off the couch to hurry to the door.
She unlocked the chain and deadbolt and opened the door a little way. Garret smiled a greeting, but he looked
tired- no, he looked exhausted. Eleven
o’clock at night, after a day full of meetings and arguments and intense
business decisions, he still came.
Amy stepped out into he hall, closing the door behind her. Then she stepped forward and wrapped Garret
up in a tight embrace. She squeezed her
eyes shut as she pressed her cheek against him. Garret released a slow breath as his arms enfolded her, the
warmth of his heavyweight wool coat surrounding them both.
"I haven’t been able to focus on a single item of business since our
conversation," he whispered. "Max
became quite furious." Garret chuckled
and pushed gently back. "Come, come,
sweet muse, tell me now what has troubled your song."
Amy took hold of Garret’s hand and led him to the wall opposite her
apartment. Then she sat on the floor
with her back against the wall, tugging him down beside her. "Garret, why did you want Mark to play Cloud
Strife?"
Garret examined Amy’s profile in silence before speaking. "To be quite honest, I didn’t. A friend suggested him."
Amy absently nodded, staring at her barefeet. "Why didn’t you want him?"
Garret didn’t answer, so Amy faced him.
He had looked away. "It’s
because of Vanessa. Right? You wanted to try again with her, didn’t
you?"
Garret picket at a non-existent piece of lint from his black slacks. "I did."
"But they had a history. You didn’t
want him getting in the way again."
Garret straightened the crease.
"No. I didn’t."
"So then why did you?"
Garret released a deep breath and crossed his arms with a slight frown. "Their history was the key."
"Because of Tifa and Cloud and you."
Garret nodded as he let out yet another breath.
"You wanted to make sure the chemistry was there."
Garret made a slight grunt. "He’s a
pompous bastard, but he has a talent for action. That and the blood cameras love him."
Amy smiled. "You had to eat humble
pie all over the place, didn’t you?"
Garret met her gaze, and then his frown melted with a reluctant smile. "To offer this movie the future it
deserves? Yes."
Amy held his gaze with a slight smile, though her eyes glimmered. "I’m sorry, Garret."
He reached out and caressed her lips.
"And for what must you apologize?"
"For doubting you."
Garret raised an eyebrow. "Doubting
me in what?"
Amy looked away. "Your motives for
choosing the people you did for the roles they have."
"I don’t understand."
Amy nodded. "I know, but that’s
alright." She looked over at him again,
and the smile returned. "Thank you for
coming by, Garret."
"Of course," he said absently.
Garret still examined her expression as he tried to reason her behavior.
"Rehearsal tomorrow?" Amy asked. She
watched his face and eyes with a smile, absorbing their beauty and
expressiveness as he spoke.
"Yes. I have told Max that I am
strictly unavailable. However, dinner
may be an impossibility."
"That’s alright. Maybe breakfast or
lunch?"
Garret smiled his most beguiling and flirtatious. "Breakfast would be delightful."
Amy chuckled. "Be here by 7 am and I
will have it waiting for you."
"You mean I must sleep elsewhere?" Garret asked, shocked.
Amy nodded with a smile. "Unless, of
course, you don’t mind sleeping on the couch."
Garret leaned close, pressing his lips lightly on hers. "Only if you were there with me."
Amy returned his light kiss before pulling back. "I have my own room," she told him with a smirk, "and it hasn’t
yet had a boy in it."
Garret chuckled. "One day," he
promised.
"Maybe, but you have to say the magic words."
Garret chuckled again. Then he
looked to his watch. "I had best away,
Amy. Morning comes earlier each day."
He stood and helped her to her feet, taking both hands in his. "Sleep well, sweet muse."
Amy smiled up at him. "Only should
you promise to await me within my dreams, poet mine."
"Would that I could be there always," he whispered. He kissed her cheeks. "Good night, Amy."
Amy kissed him softly on the cheek before he pulled back. "Drive safely, Garret."
"With the wings of my muse upon my soul?
I shall fly." Garret gave each
hand a gentle squeeze before moving toward the elevator. Once inside, he turned and gave a slight bow
as the doors closed.
Amy sighed and leaned against the wall.
"Renee--"
"No."
Amy sighed as she took another bite of her cereal. Renee sat beside her at
the bar counter in the kitchenette, pouting. "I didn't do it on
purpose," Amy said.
"That's what you always say. You did it to get back at me for
something." Renee played with her cereal for a silent second before
plunking down her spoon and facing Amy with a frown. "I can't believe you
cancelled! You knew I wanted to meet Mark Frasier, and you let him slip
through your fingers!"
Amy faced her, eyes wide. "I didn't, Renee! I swear! He just couldn't
do it!"
Renee scoffed as she turned her attention back to her cereal. She plunked
her elbow onto the counter and picked up her spoon. "You owe me big,
Amy."
"Why? I didn't get to have dinner with Mr. Harrison."
"Yeah, like that's a loss. He's probably the one that made it
impossible for Mark to come."
Amy sighed and turned back to her breakfast. "You don't have to be
mean, Renee. You don't even know him. In fact, you don't know either of them.
Maybe Mark didn't want to come because he didn't want to meet another crazy
fan."
"Well that was uncalled for."
"And so was your crack about--"
Knock Knock Knock
Amy and Renee stared at each other, wide-eyed, mid-word. Then Amy looked
over her shoulder at the door while Renee leaned to her left to do the same.
Knock Knock Knock
Amy and Renee tumbled off the bar stools, squealing and pushing as they both
scrambled up and over and around furniture to get to the door first. Then Amy
and Renee both fumbled and fought with the chain and lock, still giggling and
protesting when the other supposedly played dirty. Finally, Amy got the door
unlocked and opened, shoving Renee out of the way.
Amy blinked up into the amused expression of Garret as he stood with arms
crossed and eyebrow raised. "Have I come at a bad time? Or have you
finished murdering your roommate?"
Amy smiled. "Hi."
Renee shoved Amy out of the way. "Cheater," she complained. Then
she faced their guest and blinked. "Aren't you that Garret Harrison guy
Amy was so wild about at the audition?"
Amy met Garret’s glance with a wink as she righted herself from the
knick-knack table used to rescue her from falling.
"Yes, I am," he said in his most charming voice. Garret produced a
hand. "And who might you be?"
Renee took the hand and gave it a firm shake. "Renee Adams." She
examined Garret's expression and then, when he had released her hold, she
motioned behind her and stepped back. "Come in."
Garret did, and then he reached out to take Amy's hand too. "Miss
Burke. How are you this morning?"
Amy's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Good. Thank you. Yourself?"
Renee turned away, moving toward the bar counter to pick up their breakfast
dishes. Garret used the opportunity to lift her palm to his lips.
"Better," he whispered. Then Garret straightened, releasing Amy's
hand as he said "Very well. Thank you" in a louder voice.
Renee returned from taking their dishes to the sink. "What can we do
for you, Mr. Harrison?"
"I had heard from Mr. Frasier that he and Ms. Heron were to have a
rehearsal this morning with Miss Burke." He looked to Amy. "I had
hoped to participate, if you don't mind."
"Of course I don't mind," Amy said. "You're more than
welcome. Would you like some breakfast?"
"What is offered?"
"We've just had some granola."
"Sounds marvelous."
"Coming right up." Though she couldn't imagine Sir Garret Harrison
eating granola. Amy smiled and headed
toward the kitchenette. She noticed, though, that Renee watched the pair with
crossed arms and a suspicious expression.
Garret sat beside Renee on the available stool. "So, Miss Adams. What
is it that you do?"
"I'm a receptionist."
Amy set a bowl in front of Garret and then turned to retrieve the carton of
granola.
"A receptionist?"
"Yes. Why the shock?" Renee asked, clearly annoyed.
"I do apologize. I forsook you for a model."
Amy withheld a snigger, wiping her face of all but a simple smile as she
turned back to the bar counter and poured out some granola. Garret had just
gained about 100 points in his favor.
Renee adjusted her crossed arms after gesturing to Amy for a mug of coffee.
"Nope. I don't have the right connections."
"Connections? With a physique such as yours? Bah! The agent that told
you such was a fool."
Amy took down a coffee mug.
"If you would be so kind, Miss Burke."
Amy sent a smile over her shoulder. "Sure thing." She retrieved
mug number two and three. Then she retrieved the creamer and the milk from the
fridge. She poured the milk over Garret's granola and then dipped a spoon into
it.
"Many thanks, Miss Burke."
"Uh-huh." Amy turned to prepare the coffee once she had returned
the milk to the fridge.
"Tell me the name of the agent representing you, and I will personally
run him out of business."
Renee wasn't sure whether to believe Garret or not. Amy could tell by the
way she silently regarded him before speaking. "I don't remember his
name."
"Then he must not have been a very memorable character. Miss Burke,
might I have a little honey for my granola?"
Amy brought the three mugs over, setting them beside the creamer.
"Sure." Then she turned and gathered the honey and the coffee pot.
"There you go."
"Thank you." Garret spooned some of the honey onto his granola as
Amy poured some coffee into each mug. "Miss Adams, allow me three days and
I will have you a modeling position for Allure or Vogue. Have you a
portfolio?"
Amy's eyes twinkled. Garret had just hit a homerun, and Renee would likely
offer to have his children.
"I haven't updated it recently," Renee said, dazed.
"I will have a photographer give you a call to set up an appointment to
do so, if that is acceptable?"
Renee didn't say a word. Amy chuckled. "Just say 'yes', Renee."
"Yes." But Renee's tone made Amy doubt if Renee believed she'd
said anything at all.
Garret smiled. "Excellent. I would suggest that you give your employer
notice. I doubt you will be working there much longer."
"I will," Renee said, still dazed. "Thank you."
Amy pushed a mug of coffee toward Renee. "Renee, you better drink this
in a hurry. Or you're going to be late."
"Late? Late!" Renee stood to her feet and rushed to the door,
coffee forgotten as she grabbed her purse and keys and coat. "See you
later, Amy!" she called as she did. Then she froze with her hand on the
doorknob. Renee turned and looked at Garret. "Thank you, Mr. Harrison. I
appreciate it."
Garret smiled, lifting his coffee mug toward her in a salute. "Don't
mention it, Miss Adams. My pleasure."
Renee smiled, which brightened her entire face, and then turned to leave the
apartment. Amy leaned her arms against the counter across from Garret, eyes
twinkling as she watched his face. Garret faced her, watching her over his cup
of coffee as he took a sip.
"You didn't really think she was a model, did you?"
One side of Garret's lips lifted as he set down his coffee mug and again
stirred his granola. "Come, come, Miss Burke. You don't trust me?"
"Oh I trust you, I just don't believe you."
Garret chuckled and then took a bite of his granola.
Amy sniggered when a drop of milk lingered on his chin. She wiped it away.
"What am I going to do with you?" she asked.
Garret gathered another spoonful of granola as he watched her face with the
ever-recognizable smile of flirtatious possibilities. "I could offer a
list of suggestions."
Amy laughed. "Eat your granola. I'll just watch you and enjoy my
coffee."
Amy did watch him eat his granola, but as she talked about her life in
Illinois and her dream fulfilled of studying drama at N.Y.U.. She relived
anecdotes of rained-out monologue performances in the park, of midnight
adventures performing various works on the sidewalk with her friends, and of
less-than-popular plays performed at run-down performance halls that had been
the best experiences of her life. She laughed over stories of impetuousness
involving her brother, which had always resulted in a week's worth of grounding
and extra chores, and of Christmas dinners and Thanksgiving lunches when her
entire family would travel to reunions.
Garret listened to all with a continual, lopsided smile as he finished his
granola and watched her varying expressions. Then he took up his coffee and
listened more, chuckling here and there but offering neither comment nor
question. Then he finished his coffee and stood, bringing his dirty dishes
around and placing them in the sink as Amy told of her first experience of the
subway, of getting lost when she tried to transfer, and of having to spend the
night in a strange hotel because of it.
Then Garret stepped up to her, placed a hand on the counter on either side
of her as she smiled up at him, and leaned in close while not saying a word.
"I wouldn't recommend kissing me," Amy said with a mischievous
twinkle. "I've got granola in my teeth and coffee on my breath."
"A kiss can be placed in a multitude of areas with much the same
affect," Garret said quietly.
Amy's smile faded, and she swallowed hard. "Yes, I suppose it
can," she whispered.
Garret's lips twitched. Then he pulled back, taking her hands in his.
"While I would very much enjoy the prospect, I believe I will do my best
to behave this morning."
Amy released a deep breath. "Thank you." She gave his hands a
couple of squeezes as the smile slowly returned. "You know what? I can
totally see you and Vanessa as a couple. You and her probably did this same
exact routine each morning. Except she probably sang love songs to you and you
probably quoted monologues and sonnets to her."
Garret's smile faded to nothing as he stared down at their clasped hands. He
cleared his throat. "Yes, well, in retrospect, Vanessa and my relationship
was mainly physical. There was the initial romance and pursuit of
course..." Garret turned Amy's hands over to stare down at the palms. The
action seemed a little self-conscious. "I believe we both may have been a
bit too eager to experience the other."
Amy softly smiled as she watched his inward examination of his past history
with the women of his life. "Oh no," she said quietly. "I've
given you a guilty conscience."
Garret reluctantly smiled as he met her gaze. "Our relationship is so
very far removed from what my others have been, causing me to look back with a
bit more intensity than I should. I suppose due to the fact ours is so much
more... satisfying."
Amy's eyes crinkled at the corners. "That just earned you a bunch of
brownie points, Mr. Harrison."
Garret laughed. "And what might I purchase with said 'brownie points',
Miss Burke?"
"A poem left on your voice mail? A bunch of flowers delivered to a
meeting?" Amy asked with a twinkle.
"What? No romantic evening of caresses?"
While Amy's cheeks did color a bit pinker than normal, she simply
continued to smile. "Sorry. Not on the list. It will take a little more
than a statement, lovely as it may have been, to get that."
Garret chuckled as he pulled her slightly closer to place a kiss on her
cheek. "How came you to be so pure in a society such as ours, Miss
Burke?" He stared down at her with a slight smile. "Don't you know
that the truest display of affection is a trip to the bedroom?"
Amy's smile twitched. "And why buy the cow when you can get the milk
for free?"
Garret raised an eyebrow.
Amy laughed. "Oh come on, surely you've heard the expression
before?"
"I can safely assure you I haven't."
Amy chuckled with a shake of her head before again meeting his gaze.
"You understand what it means, though, right?"
Garret's lips twitched. "I have a vague inkling."
"Well, Mr. Harrison, this jersey cow wants to be bought and paid for
before releasing her milk to anyone, no matter how rich or charming or
wonderful he may be." Amy smiled up into his amused expression for a
little bit, but then her smile faded and her gaze drifted to the button on his
royal blue Polo shirt. She released his hands to pick at it. "I'm a
romantic. I always have been. And this romantic doesn't want to give up her
virginity until she finds the right knight on his shining white steed."
Garret blinked, staring down at her in silence before taking her hands in
his. "Amy, you are... You have never been with a man?"
Amy's lips were tickled with a smile as she slightly shook her head.
"Nope. My own choice, too." She looked up, her smile widening when
she saw the shocked expression in his eyes and on his face. "Yeah. I guess
I should expect that reaction. You don't get that much around here I bet."
"Haven't you ever been in love?" he pressed.
Amy chuckled. "Of course I've been in love, Garret."
"Then why...?"
"Why not have sex with him?" Amy looked into each of Garret's eyes
with that same continual smile. "Garret, sharing that part of myself with
a man... that really means something. I don't want to give that to a man who
isn't as devoted to me as I am to him."
"So you have never been in a long relationship?"
Amy's smile twitched. "I didn't say that. Just because we last more
than 3, 6, or 12 months doesn't mean I should have an intimate relationship
with him." Amy suddenly chuckled. "I'm sorry. I feel like I'm
lecturing you."
Garret shook his head. "No, Amy. I want to understand. No one has ever
thought that much of their future..."
Amy's eyes twinkled. "Husband?" Garret nodded and Amy continued.
"I wouldn't say that. They just haven't been raised with the same view of
a sexual relationship that I have. My parents are staunch Baptists, you know.
While I'm not nearly as conservative as they are on relationships and what is
and is not acceptable, I do draw the line at certain points. Sex being one of
them."
Amy regarded his expression for a second. "Let me ask you a question.
Think back to your reaction when I told you I'm a virgin. Now, imagine finding
that out on your wedding night." Amy watched as he processed the
information. He blinked, and Amy's smile widened. "See? Makes you feel
pretty wonderful that she saved herself for you, huh?"
Garret intensely examined Amy’s face and eyes and expression before lowering
his gaze to their clasped hands. He released them and took a step back from
her.
Amy's smile faded. "Garret? What's the matter?"
Garret lifted his eyes to meet her concerned expression. His was guarded and
serious. "Do you realize how many women I have been with?"
Amy shook her head. "No, and it doesn't matter."
"It doesn't matter?" he asked, incredulous. "Amy, how can
that fact not matter?"
"It doesn't matter because that isn't who you are," she said
simply. "That isn't why I enjoy spending time with you. That isn't why I
care about you."
"Amy--"
"Garret, do you really think I didn't already know you weren't a
virgin? Abstinence is accepted, sure, but it isn't widely practiced. I know
that." Amy gestured to the front door. "Renee isn't a virgin either.
Does that make her not my friend? No. We just have different views on things.
She thinks sex is part of the normal boyfriend-girlfriend relationship. I
don't." Amy shrugged. "Who cares? I love her anyway."
Amy motioned to Garret standing across from her. "You've had sex with
women throughout your career. It was a choice you were fine with. A choice that
you still consider. Alright. It happens. I don't care about you any less."
"Our lovemaking won't be as special--"
"Garret, why even worry about it?" Amy asked, arms outstretched.
"We're building a friendship and a relationship right now. We're not planning
a wedding. We're getting to know each other. We're finding out what makes the
other tick. We're seeing the good and the bad and dealing with it while asking
ourselves if we want to take another step forward. I know about your past, and
I don't care..."
Amy wrinkled her nose, lowering her arms to her sides. "Well, some
things annoy me, but we'll deal with that little by little. I like you. I want
to get to know you better, and I want to tell you all about me. I don't worry
about how special our first night together will be because, you know what, if
we do share a night together it will be after I've said 'I do'. To me, that
will make the moment special."
Garret stared at Amy with a somewhat dazed and astonished expression.
Amy smiled and stepped up to him, taking his hands in hers to give them a
squeeze. "Stop trying to be Executive Producer of your life, and just live
it a day at a time."
Garret's facial expression relaxed into a slight smile that warmed his eyes.
He released her hands and cupped her face. "The attraction I feel for you,
sweet muse, will surely drive me mad."
Amy's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Just don't kiss me. I'm telling
you I've got bad coffee breath."
Garret chuckled. "What do I care of that?" he whispered as his
lips lightly touched hers. "So do I."
"Just warning you," she sighed. Amy pressed one, two, three more
gentle kisses against his lips before pulling his hands from her face and
holding his gaze. "So... Are you alright?"
Garret's lips twitched. "A trifle dazed, but yes. I believe I will
survive."
Amy smiled. "Don't you worry about this anymore either. If you do, talk
to me about it. Okay? I'm serious."
He brushed a lock of her long hair behind her ear as his eyes traveled her
entire face, his lips lifted in a smile. "Banish the worry with another
taste of your honey, sweet muse."
Amy chuckled and then touched each side of his lips with hers before placing
a slightly more intense one on his mouth. Then she forced herself to pull back,
clearly feeling his resistance. Amy cleared her throat. "I'm sorry,
Garret. I shouldn't have kissed you like that. It feels way to good, and we
both know it leads to something more."
Garret cleared his throat as well, lowering his hands and arms from her as
he gave a slight nod. "Yes," he said simply, and his voice sounded
different.
Amy looked down at her watch. "I think we have about 45 minutes before
Vanessa and Mark get here." She looked up again and motioned over her
shoulder to the door. "Let's go take a walk. I think the cold air would do
us a lot of good."
Garret nodded again. "Yes, I believe it would."
They gathered their coats and purses and keys and made their way from the
apartment. Amy locked the door behind
them and then faced Garret to give him a smile as she tucked her keys in the
pocket of her coat. They headed toward
the elevator. Once inside, Amy noticed
that Garret stood carefully away from her.
Amy smiled. "It is a little
cozy in here, isn’t it?"
Garret’s eyes met her gaze. He
reluctantly smiled. "Much as the knowledge
will shock, I have an... intimate knowledge of what is and is not plausible to
accomplish within a lift."
Amy’s jaw dropped. "Garret
Harrison," she breathed.
Garret cleared his throat and clenched his hands behind his back. "Be careful, Amy. I may take your expression of disbelief as a dare to prove what I
say."
Amy shook her head. "Please
don’t. I just can’t believe... in the elevator? What about the other people in the
building? What if they’d stopped it?"
Garret lightly rubbed at his temple.
"Such was the... attraction of the..."
He cleared his throat.
Amy blinked, eyes still wide.
"Garret Harrison," she breathed again.
Garret laughed as he looked over at her.
"Do not judge me so harshly, Miss Burke. Perhaps one day I will have my way with you in a lift?"
Amy’s eyes crinkled as she smiled.
"Don’t be so sure you won’t be the one shocked, Mr. Harrison."
Garret laughed again, taking a step toward her just as the elevator dinged
and opened its doors. "Saved by the
bell," he whispered.
Amy’s lips twitched before she turned and exited. Garret fell into step beside her as they made their way toward
the front exit. "If Executive Producer
Harrison finds out about us, we’re going to get into a lot of trouble. You know about his ‘no fraternizing’ rule,
right?"
Garret chuckled. "I had heard some
mention of it."
"Maybe we should confess and take our punishment?"
"Perhaps he will revoke the rule?"
Amy looked over at Garret with a bright smile as they exited her apartment
building and turned left toward the park.
"You think he would?"
"I doubt the rule referred to him in the first place."
Amy laughed. Then she put on a
serious if reproachful expression.
"Well that isn’t very fair. We
should talk to him about that."
"I will make an appointment as soon as rehearsal is finished."
"Really?" Amy asked as she turned twinkling eyes to meet his gaze. "You’d risk his wrath for me?"
"Especially for you."
"How sweet." Amy wrapped an arm
around Garret’s as she changed her gaze to the sidewalk at their feet. "Joking aside, Garret..." She released a deep breath. "I can’t believe this is happening. It seems like we’ve known each other
forever."
"Yes, it does." His voice was soft
and thoughtful.
Amy remained silent for a moment, thinking of all that Renee had said so
many days before. "Garret, you know
that I’m not looking for a ring, right?"
Garret remained quiet.
Amy looked over at him. He watched
her. Amy reluctantly smiled. "Kind of an odd statement for me to say,
huh?" She looked away again. "I’m not saying I wouldn’t be thrilled if
you offered, I’m just..." Amy
grimaced. "Geez. It’s Renee’s fault. She said that you’d take off the minute I
got clingy, or the rehearsals ended.
She said you like your women ‘disposable’, and like an idiot I’ve
started to let that bother me." Amy
shook her head. "Gossip. I hate it."
"Amy," Garret said softly, "Vanessa broke off our relationship when I
proposed."
Amy looked up sharply, halting their progress to the crosswalk that led to
the park. "What?"
He held Amy’s amazed gaze. "I asked
Vanessa to marry me. I fancied myself
in love with her, believing she felt the same.
I did not realize she had been seeing Mark Frasier during our
relationship. When I proposed, she
looked quite taken aback. Shocked, for
lack of a better word. She explained
that she wasn’t ready for marriage, apologized that I had believed otherwise,
and said she felt it would be wise if we didn’t see one another once the play
finished. After our finale performance,
I didn’t."
Amy blinked up at Garret in stunned silence for several seconds before
smiling. "Do you have any idea
how wonderful that makes me feel?"
Garret raised an eyebrow.
"Wonderful?"
Amy giggled and stepped into the folds of his wool coat to give him a firm
embrace. "You believe in marriage."
Garret chuckled. "And that is the
first time I have heard you sound such a charming laugh." He returned her embrace before pushing back
and caressing some hair from her face.
"Come, come. Surely you didn’t
believe me to be such a rogue as to not wish to marry one day."
Amy gave a one-shoulder shrug. "It
happens."
Garret smiled with a slight nod.
"Yes. I suppose it does. I should also admit that many of the ladies
I have wooed have hoped for a ring only to receive a letter and a bushel of
flowers bidding them adieu.
Unfortunately, they were relief from the boredom."
Garret stared down into Amy’s quietly smiling face, brushing yet more hair
from her cheeks and forehead. Then he
caressed her lips with his thumb. "Yes,
Amy. I believe in marriage. And, yes, I know you are not hunting me for
a ring. You simply desire a discovery
of Garret Harrison." He shook his head
and kissed her cheek. "Continue the
search," he whispered, "lest I be lost."
*
Knock Knock
Amy looked at her watch and then sent Garret a smile. "Finally.
Only 30 minutes late." She stood
and moved toward the front door.
"You’ll have to be leaving soon, right?"
"Unfortunately I only have until ten."
"I guess that gives us enough time to run through the ‘Cloud’s Sin’
scene. We might be able to run through
the ‘Aeris’ Wood’ scene, too. If that’s
alright?" Amy opened the door with a
smile at Vanessa and Mark. "Hey you
guys. I expected you earlier."
"Sorry," Mark grumbled as he entered the apartment. "Traffic."
Vanessa followed. "I could use some
tea, Amy," she said.
"Sure." And Amy headed for the
kitchenette.
Mark and Vanessa looked from Amy to the couch and stared.
Garret raised his gaze from a scrutiny of his script and gave each a nod and
a slight smile. "Mark. Vanessa.
Good morning."
Mark didn’t say anything. He only
frowned. Vanessa, however, moved
forward to offer Garret a welcoming smile as she sat beside him. "Good morning, Garret. What a pleasant surprise. How are you?"
Garret’s expression didn’t change from the slight smile of before. "Very well thank you, Vanessa."
Amy set the water to boil for the tea, noticing with a raised eyebrow that
he didn’t ask how Vanessa was doing.
Vanessa took it in stride. "I hope
all is going smoothly regarding filming schedules."
"There haven’t been any unalterable mishaps, no."
Mark moved toward the couch to sit on the far end. He still didn’t say anything.
"Mark?" Amy asked from the kitchen.
"Did you want a soda or something?"
"No."
Amy raised an eyebrow. Then she grimaced.
This is ridiculous. She
came around and sat on one of the bench stools, resting her feet on the bottom
rungs as she leaned back against the counter.
Amy met Garret’s gaze and sent him as meaningful an expression as she
could manage. One that she hoped
clearly said, ‘you’re not being very helpful to the situation’.
Garret lowered his gaze to the script.
Amy briefly frowned. Fine. I’ll do it myself. "Vanessa, Mr. Harrison and I were talking
the other day about you and Mark’s roles in the movie."
Vanessa, Mark, and Garret all looked over at her. Garret raised an eyebrow.
Vanessa looked surprised. Mark
looked suspicious.
"Oh?" Vanessa asked.
Amy looked over at Garret. "Mr.
Harrison? Did you want to tell her what
you said? I wouldn’t want to put words
in your mouth."
One side of Garret’s lips twitched upward as Vanessa looked over at
him. Garret met her gaze. "Miss Burke had mentioned that she enjoyed
the opportunity to rehearse with you the other day, telling me also that she
was glad you had been chosen to play ‘Tifa Lockhart’. I made the comment that I had specifically chosen you for the
role due to your ability to bring out the intensity and depth of the character,
which was so often overlooked by those others that auditioned." Garret gauged Vanessa’s slightly startled
expression. "Has there been confusion
as to why I suggested you for the role?"
Vanessa recovered quickly enough, sending Garret a reassuring smile. "No, of course not."
Amy rolled her eyes. Garret caught
the expression. "Are you certain,
Vanessa? I don’t wish for you to
believe I cast you for any reason other than your exceptional talent."
At that, Vanessa seemed to get a little flustered and self-consciously said
"Of course I wouldn’t, Garret."
Mark noticed her discomfiture, and Amy could see his hackles rise. She sent Garret a meaningful look, sending
her gaze quickly to the back of Mark’s head.
Garret looked to Mark. "Mark, I
wouldn’t be surprised if you had doubts as to my reasons for casting you. We haven’t ever been anything but pleasant
enemies, have we?"
Amy gnawed her lower lip, sending an expression of ‘be careful’ to
Garret. He intercepted it smoothly
enough.
"I have never sought to be subtle regarding my belief that you’re a pompous
ass, but that has nothing to do with your position as ‘Cloud Strife’. You’ve an exceptional talent when it comes
to action films, Mark," Garret said as he set aside his script, "and that is
what I wanted for this movie. That and
you have a previous – or perhaps continuing – relationship with Vanessa that
will add to the chemistry felt on stage.
Or rather on screen." Garret
looked up. "There is also the fact that
I don’t like you. That chemistry is
also important for this movie, making it easier for your character to be
believed in his obsessive hatred of Sephiroth."
"And why should we believe you?" Mark asked darkly.
Garret clenched his jaw. "You can
believe or disbelieve what I have said, Mark.
It matters little to me. I have
simply set the record straight. Now, I
have limited time before I must be off to a meeting scheduled at ten. Miss Burke had hoped to rehearse certain
scenes, if you are up to the task?"
Amy sent Garret a ‘don’t be a jerk’ expression as she stood from the
barstool to rescue the boiling water from the stove.
"I apologize." Amy heard Garret say.
"That last quip was uncalled for."
Mark’s only response was silence.
"Garret? Did you want some
tea?" Amy grimaced. Crap!
I just called… oh well.
Silence. "Yes, please."
Amy brought down a second cup and saucer, all the while shaking her head and
scolding herself for making a big deal about it. If Mark or Vanessa noticed, they noticed. "Give me a couple minutes, you guys, and
I’ll be out. If someone knows the cue
line, they could start."
Silence.
Then Mark muttered "why the hell not?" and spoke the opening line of the
scene. "‘That’s the Black Materia…’"
*
Garret left a little before ten in order to make it to his meeting at a
restaurant a little ways down the street.
Amy escorted him to the door with a pleasant "Thank you for coming, Mr.
Harrison. Have a nice meeting."
To which he responded "Thank you, Miss Burke. Good day."
Then, when Amy went back into the living room, she noticed that Garret had
left his wool jacket on the back of the couch.
So, Amy had to hurry after him.
She caught him by the elevator doors, holding out his wool coat with a
smile that accused him of doing it on purpose.
Garret drew her and the wool coat into the elevator with him just as the
doors closed.
He pulled her close, wrapping her up in the wool coat so that she couldn’t
escape as he looked down into her face.
Garret slightly smiled. "You
were superb. In the scene as well as in
so adeptly showing the personal conflict Mark and Vanessa had with their
roles. Thank you."
Amy smiled. "I thought you would
want to know."
Garret glanced up at the floor indicator for the elevator. "Hmm.
Not nearly enough time. Ah
well." He looked back down to her, and
his smile twitched upward. "Bestow upon
me a touch of your warmth, sweet muse, that I might remember your presence here
so close and tender."
"Take what you will, poet mine, that you might never feel the chill of my
absence."
Garret pressed his lips gently against hers… again… and again… and then
again before lifting his head and caressing her cheeks and eyes with his
lips. "Amy, Amy, Amy…" he whispered as
he pressed his lips against her throat.
"Never cease captivating my mind and heart. Never cease being true to that self I find so intoxicatingly unique."
Amy pressed her lips against his soft and warm skin, squeezing her eyes shut
tight in an effort to hold back the tears.
"I promise."
Garret pulled back, sent a quick glance to the floor indicator, and then
kissed her again. "Until our dreams,"
he whispered in a rough voice as he stepped back.
Amy nodded slowly as she watched him shrug into his wool coat. Then the elevator doors were opening and he
stepped toward the exit. "I love you,
sweet muse," Garret whispered as he passed.
Amy blinked after him, the elevator doors closing off any response. She leaned back against the elevator wall
with a deep breath.
When Amy arrived back at her apartment, Mark and Vanessa were talking
intensely amongst themselves. They
looked up at her entrance. She smiled
and motioned over her shoulder. "He had
already made it to the elevator. I had
to go down."
Mark stood, and his frown clearly showed he was upset. "Why’d you tell him what we told you,
Amy? Geez!"
Amy blinked. "I didn’t. I simply asked him why he cast you as
‘Cloud’." Amy looked to Vanessa. "I didn’t even ask him about
you. He volunteered it, and that was before
I asked about Mark."
Vanessa changed her gaze to her hands, which were tinkering with the hem of
her dark rose blouse.
Amy looked to each of their faces.
"You don’t believe him, do you?"
"And you do?" Mark scoffed. "I knew he was a good actor, but he--" Mark swore.
"That was uncalled for," Amy said as she arched an eyebrow and crossed her
arms. "I’m a lot of things, Mark, but
I’m definitely not gullible. I’ve seen
and experienced my fair share of smooth-talkers, liars, and con-men." Mark opened his mouth for a retort, but Amy
interrupted with a firm statement of "Don’t even go there. I have both feet firmly planted on the
ground, thank you very much, and he hasn’t been in my pants, skirts, shorts, or
sheets."
Vanessa raised her gaze from her hands.
"Amy, are you sure he hasn’t manipulated you?"
Amy bit back a retort of ‘Like you did him?’ and said "I’m not sure of
anything, Vanessa, but you said I was more than welcome to give him the benefit
of the doubt. So, I am. And I don’t think it’s asking too much for
you to do the same thing."
Vanessa looked over at Mark. "Mark?"
Mark threw up his hands with a "what the hell."
Amy smiled.
The last days of rehearsal went by too fast for Amy.
Garret continued to stop by at or near seven in the morning to share
breakfast with Amy and Renee, proving to Renee that he wasn’t a ‘tight-ass’ at
all. Just a workaholic as Amy had
suggested for so long. Renee kept
Garret up-to-date on her portfolio revision and on the find of her new
photographer and agent. Garret promised
to spread the word on his inside track to the ‘newest and freshest face’ in
modern modeling, thereby assuring her of continually growing interest until her
agent was ready to act. Renee was
thrilled. Amy was relieved. Garret was amused.
Then Renee would rush out the door to work, excited to be at last trapped
within her dream of modeling, and leave the two to a continued discovery of the
other. Garret began to share stories
and anecdotes hesitantly at first, and then with more ease as he saw her
interest and answered her eager questions.
He confessed to adventures in London with neighborhood boys, often ending
in being chased by the ‘constable’. He
described school productions of A Midsummer’s Night Dream or Romeo
and Juliet that had Amy wishing she could have been there. But then Garret would perform select scenes
from them, thereby giving Amy a small taste of who Garret Harrison was.
Amy loved it.
Then Garret weaved tales of independent productions that caught public
attention; his acceptance into the Royal Shakespeare Company; performances in
front of royalty; and an eventual interest in the big screen that brought him
at first to Los Angeles and then to New York and Broadway. Which of course led to a reminiscence of
Broadway productions, ones where Garret had performed the starring role while
Amy had watched awestruck. Garret would
ask if she had seen a particular production, and most often Amy would
enthusiastically reply ‘yes’ and then give a detailed account and synopsis of
her favorite scenes, thereby encouraging Garret to do the same.
Oftentimes the reminiscing led to an attempt at acting out their favorite
scenes, Amy doing her best to recall the lines of those roles opposite Garret
while he did his best to prompt her.
The two would often laugh so hard that they couldn’t do anything but
gesture the lines. Then they would
surrender the attempt and go back to the couch to sip their coffee and begin
another visit to memory.
Mark and Vanessa never asked how much earlier Garret arrived at Amy’s
apartment. Amy wouldn’t have lied to
them if they had asked, and she’d requested that Garret be honest as well. Luckily, Mark and Vanessa never inquired
about the pair’s growing relationship.
Instead, all focus was on the scenes in the first act, honing and
tightening them until Garret was certain they would enthrall the audience.
Then the rehearsal week was over, the weekend was coming to a close, and Amy
was setting her alarm for the early arrival at the studio the next
morning. Nervousness and anxiety
battled with eagerness and anticipation at the prospect, scaring sleep right
out of the picture. Then of course
there was the knowledge that she would be receiving tutoring and choreography
instruction for the final scene in Act I.
Her death. Garret assured her
that he had gone over the plans and possibilities too numerous to count. He had also told her it would be easier then
a few Broadway stunts he had done.
That had relieved Amy’s mind more than anything else.
So Amy bid Renee goodbye, finding it very funny that now Renee was
left at home alone, and then made her way out to the bus stop. The bus ride, as usual, was quite the
experience with people. Amy enjoyed it,
snickering here and there at the funny things people said in response to bus
driver quips aimed at the other drivers’ tactics at cutting him off. Then Amy was dropped off at the studio lot
and heading toward the security booth.
Amy wasn’t sure if she should be happy or annoyed that the same man as
before stood guard.
"Name."
"Amy Burke." And she went about the
duty of freeing her ID from its specific pocket within her purse.
"You’re not on the list."
Amy blinked and then looked up.
"What? Give me that." She swiped the list from him before he could
protest. "Oh for pete’s sake! This is ridiculous! How am I supposed to get any work
done if they don’t put me on the list to get in in the first place!" Amy shoved the list back at the guard. "Can I use your phone please?" she asked,
frowning.
"Sorry. Not allowed."
"What? How am… Oh forget it." Amy heard a car door shut. She turned, and her face brightened. Garret looked spectacular dressed in his
charcoal silk slacks, cashmere vest of the same color, and antique-white Perry
Ellis dress shirt with a gray silk tie.
Amy moved toward him. "Good
morning, Mr. Harrison."
Garret smiled. "Miss Burke. What a pleasant surprise." He came to stand opposite her, and his smile
faded to a concerned expression. "What
has happened?"
Amy gave an exasperated sigh as she motioned over her shoulder. "You won’t believe this. I’m not on the list."
"How can that be possible? Shooting
schedules begin this morning."
Amy nodded. "I know, but I’m not on
the list."
"Well this is very odd, I must say."
Garret smiled. "Come. Let us see what can be done, shall we?"
"He’s not a very sociable fellow," Amy warned as she fell into step beside
Garret.
"Yes, well I pay his salary." The
pair came to stand opposite the security guard, who didn’t seem to be at all
impressed with Garret’s role as Executive Producer. "Good morning. Might I
see the list?" The security guard
handed it over. "Thank you." Garret searched each page before looking up
and slightly raising the clipboard.
"This is an incomplete list."
The guard blinked. "What do you
mean?"
"There is no mention of those scenes scheduled for shooting in Studio
10. Where are the remaining names?"
The guard shrugged. "That’s all I’ve
been given."
Garret raised an eyebrow as he handed the clipboard back to the guard. "How odd."
He retrieved his phone and pressed a number. "…Max, we seem to have a misunderstanding at Gate 12…. Yes….
Studio 10’s schedule isn’t among them…. I see…. No, that won’t do at all…. Can
you fax it?… Thank you." Garret
disconnected the call and gestured behind the man to the compact fax within the
booth. "A fax holding the remaining
names should come through shortly."
Then Garret motioned for Amy to precede him through the gate. "Miss Burke. After you."
Amy sent the guard an uncertain look.
"Are you going to let me go through?" she asked him. "Or should I get my mace out?"
The guard pressed his lips together and frowned. "Go on. Get."
"Gee. Thank you so much." Amy followed beside Garret with an
exasperated breath and a shake of her head.
"Someone should sell him some personality."
"Nonsense. Shane is our best
asset. He simply takes his duties a bit
more seriously than what others appreciate."
Amy smiled. Then it faded as she
sent a quick glance over her shoulder.
To her surprise, no one was around.
She stopped Garret with a gentle hold on his arm and took his hands in
hers as she smiled up at him. "Do you
realize you just arrived in your shining white horseless carriage and rescued
me?"
Garret’s lips twitched upward. "Did
I? It was quite unintentional."
Amy’s crinkled at the corners.
"Unintentional or not, the knight always gets a kiss."
Garret brought each hand up to his lips.
"Unfortunately, sweet muse, I would rather not take the risk. My reputation would taint yours."
Amy released a hand and caressed his cheek.
"I don’t care about that, but it makes me feel nice that you do."
Garret took her hand and kissed the palm.
"Come, sweet. Max and the men from
the stunt company wait for us."
Amy smiled and reluctantly released his hands. They started forward to Studio 10 again. "Will you be coming over for dinner this
evening? I was going to make lasagna."
"I will do my best to arrange my schedule, Amy. What time?"
"Seven. If you need it later, just
let me know. Or I could bring it here,
if you’re working in your office."
Garret reached out to briefly caress Amy’s hand. "Thank you, sweet, but that wouldn’t be wise. The tabloids would eagerly put their own
story to the innocent meeting."
Amy looked over to meet Garret’s gaze.
"Garret, when this movie is over, will you come with me to
Illinois? I want you to meet my
parents. They’d love to meet you, I’m
sure, and you could use a vacation."
Garret smiled. "The invitation is
appreciated."
Amy smirked. "But how plausible is
it?"
"That depends on how tenacious I want to be with my schedule." Garret touched her hand again. "And where you are concerned, sweet, I am always
tenacious."
Amy chuckled. "Good. I’m glad you’ll at least try. I think you’ll have fun. It’s not Chicago, but Aspen Grove is a
really nice place."
"It sounds delightful."
"Especially since it only has a population of 1500."
Garret chuckled. "This I must see."
Amy smiled up at him. "Believe me,
if you go I’ll show you each and every square inch of it."
Garret stopped outside of the door leading into Studio 10. "Do I have your word on that?" he asked with
a smirk.
Amy nodded, still smiling. "You
certainly do."
Garret stared down into her face for a long moment before placing a kiss on
her lips. "Then my schedule be damned."
Rehearsal, choreography, and scene shooting went as smooth as silk… for the
most part.
The choreography for the death scene made Amy nervous at first. Then Garret and Mark both gave her an
encouraging pep talk, telling her that as long as she took it one step at a
time, the flow would come eventually.
Amy gave it her all. She listened
intensely to what each stunt choreographer had to say, asked questions if she
wasn’t sure she understood, and then demonstrated what she believed they
wanted. All in all, Amy picked it up
fast.
Shooting the scenes scheduled for that day was fun after the stress and
concentration of the stunts. Garret’s
scenes with Amy weren’t scheduled until later in the week, so he left shortly
after the choreography of the death scene had come to a close. Amy and he had exchanged slight smiles and
nothing more. Amy didn’t have a problem
with the less-than-romantic parting because she’d planned on calling his cell
phone later to leave a romantic message on his voice mail. There was no telling how stressful his day
would be, and she reasoned that anyone would enjoy receiving a pleasant
message.
That and she wanted to remind him of her invitation to dinner that evening.
The scenes went smoothly enough.
There were the occasional bloopers, as in anything on screen, but the
troupe dealt with it and moved on.
Vanessa was brilliant as Tifa, for lack of a better word, but the
relationship between Tifa and Cloud didn’t necessarily jump out at the
watcher. It was more of a subtle
intensity that the camera easily picked up.
Amy enjoyed watching it, doing her best to learn what she could from
each performance and apply it to her own.
Time flew as Max pressed them to shoot scene after scene. He turned out to be more the taskmaster than
Garret. Max demanded perfection from
her; no foibles, no stutters, no hesitations, and no diverting from the set
blocking of the scene. Amy took it all
in stride, even though she noticed he wasn’t nearly as demanding on the
others. She just chalked it up to the
fact she was a ‘newbie’ chosen by the Executive Producer and moved on with the
scene and what he demanded of her.
Then Amy had a brief respite from shooting when Mark was called upon to
shoot some of his solo scenes in ‘Miss Cloud’.
Amy excused herself to one of the soundproof rooms with a phone and
dialed Garret’s cell phone. She sat in
a chair around a small table and drew circles around an ink stain with her
finger as the call attempted to connect.
To her surprise, it didn’t go to voice mail.
"Harrison here."
Amy’s eyes crinkled at the corners.
"Hi, Harrison. Burke here."
"Hello, Amy," he said in a much gentler tone. "How fares rehearsal?"
"Good. It’s definitely different
than the stage, all those cameras staring at me. And sometimes we have to reshoot a scene just because the camera
angle wasn’t right or something. It’s a
little frustrating, but I’m having fun."
Amy’s smile twitched upward.
"How fares your schedule?"
"The same as usual," Garret said vaguely, "but I would much rather talk of
you."
Amy smiled. "That makes me feel
wonderful."
Garret chuckled. "Do you still plan
on dinner this evening at seven? Or
does Max plan on keeping you later than first planned?"
"I don’t know. I’m afraid to ask."
"Afraid to ask? Why?"
Amy’s smile faded as she picked at the side of the table. "Nothing.
Don’t worry about it." She
forced the smile back. "I had a lot of
fun last week, Garret. Thanks for
clearing your schedule and coming over.
It was really nice. Especially
all the stories."
"Thank you for the invitation, Amy.
I have never before so enjoyed laughing with a woman."
Amy released a deep breath as she closed her eyes, playing back the myriad
of happy moments. "Garret, if you can’t
make it for dinner, that’s okay. You
can just give me a call between meetings or something."
"Ah, sweet muse, should I be content with the song when my soul thirsts for
the warmth of the laughter within it?
Say not that you give me leave to be absent, for that shall cause the
death of my spirit."
Amy smiled, eyes still closed. "Poet
mine," she said in a voice slightly colored with tears, "come then that your
muse might rest within the intensity of that spirit. My warmth is created for yours; my song sung for your lips; my
life empty without your spirit to give it wings. Come then, that I might live."
Deep breath. "I shall come, sweetest
muse. I shall come that your life and
mine be shared as one breath and song.
Cry not, lest your tears break this very heart."
Amy sniffed, wiping the tears from her face with a tremulous smile. "I cry, but for the joy found in the safety
of your intensity." Amy sniffed again. "Love has blossomed within that intensity,
poet mine... accept this warmth as your very own. Accept my song as yours. Your muse shall wither if the petals of my
love are not accepted by that of your spirit I adore." Silence.
"Poet mine," Amy whispered, "speak that I might hear the tones which
replenish my breath."
Deep breath. "I speak, muse, but
what words to say when a confession of love has stolen my breath?"
Amy smiled. "Then let my words
return it to you," she whispered, "I love you."
Deep breath. "I need to go, Amy, but
I will come this evening. Wait
for me at the bus stop. I will take you
home."
"Alright. Until this evening."
"Until this evening."
Amy took the phone from her ear and very slowly replaced the receiver. She released a deep breath.
*
"Amy?"
Amy looked up from her small book of poems.
She smiled. "Hi,
Vanessa."
Vanessa sat beside Amy at the bus stop, turning slightly toward her. "Amy, I need to ask you a personal
question."
Amy closed the book of poems, nodding as she held Vanessa's concerned
gaze. "Sure."
"It's about Garret."
Amy arched an eyebrow and adjusted her hold on the book of poems. "Oh?"
Vanessa examined Amy's open expression, absently biting her lower lip. "Amy, do you remember that I told you
Garret's quite the charmer?"
Amy nodded. "Yes," she
said with a slight smile, "but I knew that already."
Vanessa looked down at her clasped hands for a moment. "Yes, well," she looked up,
"he's also quite the accomplished and believable actor. He has played so many tortured souls that he
knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what to say and do that will melt the heart
of any young woman."
Amy felt a spark of defensive temper.
She lowered her eyes to her hands as she lightly rubbed the
leather-bound volume of poems with her thumb.
It had been a gift from Garret on Friday. Sir Philip Sydney.
"I believe you when you say you haven't been intimate with him,"
Vanessa continued, "but I'm still concerned that he might be playing your
heart. Garret loves women, and he loves
a challenge even more." Vanessa
sighed and reached out to cover Amy's hands with hers. "Don't be angry, Amy. I know how wonderful Garret can be,
with his quoting of Shakespeare and Marlowe and others. His accent.
His charm. His manner. That sexy smile and laugh." Vanessa sighed again as she gave a slight
shake of her head. She squeezed Amy's
hands. "Garret could charm an
intimate moment out of a nun, Amy, and I'm afraid that's what he's doing with
you."
Amy pulled her hands out from under Vanessa's. Then she cleared her throat and pressed her lips together before
knowing for certain that she had her temper under control. That was when she faced Vanessa. "Mr. Harrison did try to 'charm an
intimate moment' out of me, Vanessa. I
said no. Well, I actually said a great
deal more than that, but 'no' was the basic idea. After that first time, he tried again. Again, I said no. While
it felt wonderful to have Sir Garret Harrison attempting to seduce little old
me, I'm not one of those women who enjoy short-lived romps in the bedroom, satisfying
as that might be to view Garret as a feather in my cap."
Amy grimaced. "A feather,"
she said, and her tone was very near a sneer.
"Garret is a human being who deserves to be thought of as more than
a rung on a ladder to the top. These
past couple of weeks, I've treated him just like that. I've shown him respect and he's done the
same for me, respecting even my decision to keep our relationship limited to
intense conversations and the occasional good-bye kiss. And that," Amy said with a
finger in Vanessa's face, "is to stay between us."
Vanessa blinked and leaned slightly back.
Amy lowered her finger as she continued.
"I'm sure he could be acting this 'tortured' and
'misunderstood man' role simply to eventually get me in his sheets, but I
like-- No, I love the Garret Harrison I've discovered. He's a poet, an actor, and a philosopher -
much to his own surprise. I appreciate
the concern, Vanessa, and I know it comes from what happened in your own
relationship with him, but I'm not going to be suspicious because of something
that happened in the past. We all
deserve better than that."
Amy felt her passion and intensity begin to swell out of control and yanked
them back with a clearing of her throat and a tightened grip on her book of
poems. "Garret knows how I feel
about sex before marriage. He also
knows how I feel about him, just like I know how he feels about me. You might think it another plot, but like I
said before: I don't care. I'm going to
take him at his word. If you're right,
then I'll chalk it up to experience and move on. If I'm right, then I hope you'll come to the wedding."
Vanessa blinked again, eyes wide as she regarded Amy in stupefied
silence. Then the shocked expression
melted to a slight smile. "I hope
I am wrong, Amy. I really
do. Garret needs someone like you to
keep him in check."
Amy released a deep breath, ushering the passion into a far corner as she
reluctantly smiled. "You know
what, Vanessa? It's me that needs
someone like him."
Amy heard the recognizable sound of Garret's English roadster as it pulled
to a stop. She and Vanessa stood. "I really do appreciate you looking out
for me, Vanessa. It's nice to have a
big sister. That was always my
job."
Vanessa reached out to give Amy's arm a squeeze. Then she looked over toward Garret, who very slowly exited the
roadster. She smiled, waved, and then
turned to go back to Studio 10 to finish those scenes scheduled that day. Amy released a deep breath and then stepped
toward the roadster. Garret opened the
door for her, helped her in, and then absently closed it with another slight
frown Vanessa's direction. Then he went
around to his own side and merged the roadster into traffic.
Amy released a deep breath as she leaned back in the leather seat. She looked over at his profile - he still
had a slight frown - and smiled.
"You're probably dying to know what we were talking about,
huh?"
Garret glanced toward her, and his frown faded when their eyes met. "Yes, I suppose I am," he admitted
once his gaze focused on the road. He
gave a shake of his head as he chuckled.
"Chalk such a reaction to a guilty conscience. How nice to actually discover I have
one."
Amy chuckled, still watching his profile.
"Well, Mr. Garret Harrison, she told on you." Garret glanced toward her, eyebrow
raised. "She's sure all your charm
and attitudes of a tortured individual are dedicated to the single goal of
getting me into your sheets."
Garret sent her a sharp look.
"What?"
Amy nodded, her expression mock seriousness. "She made a very convincing argument, too, and I'm sure it
was only because of your relationship with her before, but I told her I wasn't
going to be suspicious of you just because you have a somewhat colorful
past. We've already dealt with
that."
He regarded her a moment before looking again to the road. "Yet what if her concerns are proved
true?"
Amy looked ahead out at the taillights of the cars, her eyes crinkling at
the corners. "Just promise to let
me know before my mom asks if I have plans to marry you. That I'm actually considering it with the
famous Sir Garret Harrison will probably do her in. I'd rather not risk giving her a stroke if you're just charming
me for my body."
Garret sent her a sidelong glance.
Then he chuckled and gave a slight shake of his head. "Amy, Amy, Amy. What ever am I going to do with you?"
Amy smiled broadly and sent him a look full with wrinkled nose. "I have a few suggestions."
Garret laughed and reached over to rest a hand on her thigh, caressing it
with his thumb. "Yes. I am sure
you do."
Amy covered his hand with hers to give it a squeeze, still watching his
profile. Her smile faded with a sudden
wave of seriousness and honesty.
"Garret, you promised you didn't want to hurt me. That would.
If all this is an act to get what I said 'no' to before, that will really
hurt me."
Garret sent her another sidelong glance.
Then he brought her hand up to his lips for a long kiss. "I feel I must confess that though this
plot had been the original intent, it has long since faded."
Amy’s hand tightened its hold.
"What…" she whispered.
Garret gave a slight nod, still holding her hand as his eyes didn’t leave
their examination of the road. "I
know. I’m a cad." He glanced toward her again. "You’re an intoxicating woman, Amy. I couldn’t bear the thought of being told
‘no’ when I wanted you so completely.
Such didn’t happen to Garret Harrison."
He released a breath. "I am so
sorry, Amy."
"So… even the poems? You did the
hesitancy and uncertainty just to seduce me?" Amy pulled her hand from his with a shake of her head. "Garret…"
Garret pulled the roadster over and then turned off the ignition. He faced her with a serious expression
unlike any she’d seen. "Yes. The hesitancy. The uncertainty. The
unique poems. Even confessing the
reasons for Mark and Vanessa’s placement, although what I told you was indeed
the truth."
Amy stared down at her clenched hands.
"And the first breakfast with me and Renee? And the confession of the proposal to Vanessa? And saying ‘I love you’ in the
elevator?" Amy’s voice cracked. "Lies?
Acts?" Amy’s glimmering eyes
rose to meet his gaze. "You didn’t mean
any of it?"
"I don’t recall at what point I ceased acting and actually became engrossed
and enthralled with the tales and heart of Amy Burke," Garret began
carefully. He lowered his gaze with a
deep breath and a shake of his head.
"Perhaps, at the time…" He
raised his eyes again. "Amy you do
inspire those poetic words. I am
attracted to you. I do care for
you in a different way than I have for any other woman."
Amy stretched out her hands. "How
can I believe you, Garret? You just
told me it was only for sex." Her voice
choked on the word.
Garret nodded. "I know, and I
believed that at first. Yet I continued
to come. To listen. To laugh.
To surrender a snippet of myself to your memory. I haven’t done so with any other woman,
Amy. While the words I’ve said may have
been untrue at the time, I would not hesitate to speak them again."
Amy covered her eyes with a hand, fighting back the tears.
"Amy, I did not want for you to find out.
I wanted to save you this pain… Amy…"
Garret reached out to hold her upper arm, tenderly caressing it with his
thumb. "Amy, I will not blame you if
you choose not to see my face again."
Amy lowered her hand from her eyes, and her eyes sparked. "Do you have any idea how stupid
I feel, Garret Harrison!? You had me completely
fooled!"
Garret nodded. "Please, Amy. Forgive me.
I swear I have uttered nothing but the truth--"
"Since when?" Amy’s expression was
pained. "Since when,
Garret? Since I asked you not to hurt
me--" Her voice choked, and she looked
away.
Garret watched her, expression haggard.
He breathed deeply. "Amy," he
said softly. Garret leaned toward her. "Amy, I confessed so that I would not lose
you. If the confession has separated
you from me, can we not pretend there was no confession of a darker intent?"
Amy didn’t answer. Garret cautiously
reached out to take her hands in his.
She didn’t pull away. "Sweet
muse, bestow again your warmth. Sing
again your song, lest I perish alone, lost and unloved. Unknown.
Half a man, with my muse the holder of my spirit."
Amy clenched his hands tight, and then she pulled him close to bury her face
in his neck. "Catch me, poet mine, lest
my heart break and be lost," she choked out.
Garret held her tight against him, releasing a long and slow breath as he
closed his eyes. "Forgive me, sweet
muse. Please, please forgive me."
Amy sobbed as she adjusted her hold around him. "Remove this pain, poet mine.
Its depth terrifies me."
Garret pressed his cheek against her hair.
"I never intended to pierce my muse with such pain. Give it me, that you might be free of its
torture."
"It burns still, as does the spark of my love; your warmth." Amy pulled back, tears glistening on her
cheeks and in her eyes as she examined his face. "If this be the lie, show me not the truth. I love them both."
Amy kissed him.
"Action!"
(Cloud and the others stand outside the Temple of the Ancients. Watching. The camera pans up to the top of the Temple, as a great black ball of energy consumes it, sparking. When it fades, there is nothing left of the Temple but a great pit. Cloud goes to the edge of it; there is a small black sparkle at the bottom.)
Cloud
"That's the Black Materia..."
Tifa
"I'll wait here."
(Cloud makes his way to the bottom of the pit, followed by Aeris. He goes over to the Black Materia.)
Cloud
"As long as we have this, Sephiroth won't be able to use Meteor."
(Cloud picks up the Black Materia.)
"Mmm? Can you guys use it?"
Aeris
"Nope, we can't use it right now. You need great spiritual power to use it."
Cloud
"You mean lots of Spiritual energy?"
Aeris
"That's right. One person's power alone won't do it. Somewhere special. Where there's plenty of the Planet's energy..." She looks over at Cloud with an excited expression. "Oh yeah! The Promised Land!"
Cloud
"The Promised Land? No, but..."
Aeris
"Sephiroth is different. He's not an Ancient."
Cloud
"He shouldn't be able to find the Promised Land."
(The screen flashes white. When it fades, Sephiroth stands at the edge of the pit.)
Sephiroth
"...Ah, but I have." (He floats up, over the pit.) "I'm far superior to the Ancients. I became a traveler of the Lifestream and gained the knowledge and wisdom of the Ancients. I also gained the knowledge and wisdom of those after the extinction of the Ancients. And soon, I will create the future."
Aeris
"I won't let you do it! The future is not only yours!"
(Sephiroth floats higher.)
Sephiroth
"Ha, ha, ha... I wonder?" (The screen goes white.) "Wake up!"
(The scene fades back in, to the bottom of the pit. Cloud clutches his head and falls to the ground.)
Cloud
"Sh... shut up!"
(Sephiroth floats to the ground. He kneels down.)
Sephiroth
"There, Cloud... good boy."
Cloud
"The... Noise..." (We see Cloud's double standing straight as Cloud writhes on the ground below it. Eventually Cloud stands up and melds with the double.) "Wa...... aaaa....aaa...."
(Cloud begins to run, in slow motion, to Sephiroth. It takes almost half a minute for him to make the few feet to Sephiroth. Cloud's double just stands where Cloud once had. Cloud gives the Black Materia to Sephiroth. Sephiroth stands up and begins to laugh.)
Sephiroth
".......Well done."
(The screen goes white as Sephiroth rockets skyward. The camera moves to above the pit. Cloud falls and clutches his head, trembling. Aeris goes over to him.)
Aeris
"Cloud, are you all right?"
Cloud
"...I gave the Black Materia to Sephiroth...?" (He straightens for a brief moment, then falls at Aeris’ feet.) "Wha... what did I do... tell me, Aeris."
Aeris
(Aeris bends down to him) "Cloud... be strong, OK?"
Cloud
(Cloud starts writhing on the ground.) "Urrrrrrgh... What have I done!?"
Aeris
(Aeris kneels down by him.) "Cloud... you haven't done anything. It's not your fault."
(Cloud stands up slowly... and punches Aeris. She falls backwards and Cloud falls onto her, landing blow after blow.)
Cloud
"I...! I'm----!"
Tifa
(Tifa is frantic by the edge of the pit) "Cloud--!!" (Cloud continues to beat Aeris.)
Tifa
"Cloud, what are you doing!?"
Cloud
(Cloud stops and falls to one side. The screen goes white.) "Everything is white... What did I do? I don't remember anything... My memory... since when...? If everything's a dream, don't wake me."
(The screen goes black.)
"Cut!"
Mark laughed and looked over at Amy.
"You okay? I think I got you
with one of those smacks."
Amy punched him in the arm with a mock frown. "You nearly took my block off, you big goon. Sheesh!"
Mark flinched away. "Hey, hey. Stop beating me up. I just followed the script."
Mark stood to his feet and then helped Amy to hers. Vanessa came over to them with a smile. Garret hung back, leaning his hands against
the back of the Executive Producer chair.
Amy briefly caught his gaze as she stood with Mark’s help, intercepting
Garret’s wink with a slight smile.
"Good job, people," Max grudgingly admitted as he came over. "Two more scenes, and then Harrison has to
go to a meeting." Max motioned them to
the forest set. "Alright. Now we shoot ‘Aeris’ Wood.’ Places people."
"Did you want to come over for dinner this evening?" Amy asked Mark as they
make their way to their set marks. "I
figured you and Vanessa and Mr. Harrison, and maybe Vincent--"
"Are you kidding? The guy’s a
mobster, Amy. Why the hell would you
want to invite him?"
Amy’s mouth dropped open. "Vincent
is an actor, Mark," she scolded with fists on hips. "So he used to be in not-so-glamorous circles. At least he’s trying to put that behind
him. You could at least make it
easier."
"Yeah, say that when you find a--"
"Mark!" Max shouted. "Cut the gab
and get in character!"
Mark sent Max a dirty look and then did as he was told. Amy stepped behind a tree and waited for her
cue.
"Action!"
(The scene fades in... a calm green forest. Aeris pokes her head around one tree.)
Aeris
"Cloud, can you hear me?"
Cloud
(Cloud speaks, though he does not appear on screen.) "Yeah, I hear you. Sorry for what happened."
(Aeris comes out from behind the tree; we see her profile as she faces to the side.)
Aeris
"Don't worry about it."
Cloud
"...I can't help it..."
Aeris
(She goes back behind the tree.) "Oh..." (She jumps out from behind another tree on the opposite side of the forest, not visibly walking the distance between them.) Then, why don't you REALLY worry about it?" (She runs forward and wipes one eye.) "And let me handle Sephiroth." (She starts giggling, turns pure white, and disappears. She comes out from behind yet another tree.) "And Cloud, you take care of yourself." (She walks back behind the tree, off-handedly leaning back so that we just see her head.) So you don't have a breakdown, okay?" (She goes behind the tree. She drops down from the sky, slowly, puppet-like, landing very softly on the ground. Cloud also floats down, closer to the camera. He looks around.)
Cloud
"What is this place?"
Aeris
(Aeris puts her hands behind her back and looks skyward.) "This forest leads to the City of the Ancients... and is called Sleeping Forest." (She looks at Cloud.) "It's only a matter of time before Sephiroth uses Meteor. That's why I'm going to protect it. Only a survivor of the Cetra, like me, can do it." (She turns and walks a distance into the forest. She turns back to face Cloud.) "The secret is just up here." (She shakes her head.) "At least it should be. ...I feel it. It feels like I'm being led by something." (She cocks her head to one side and waves, cutely, femininely, childishly, to Cloud.) "Then, I'll be going now. I'll come back when it's all over."
Cloud
"Aeris?"
(She turns and runs off into the forest, getting smaller and smaller, until she disappears into the bright green sunlight. Cloud starts to run after her, slowly, but does not go anywhere, just as in a dream. Eventually he stops, and Sephiroth speaks, from somewhere.)
Sephiroth
"Hmm........ She's thinking of interfering? She will be a difficult one, don't you think?" (Sephiroth floats down from above, just as Cloud did. He lands, kneeling, where Aeris stood moments before.) "We must stop that girl soon."
(The screen flashes white, then goes completely dark.)
"Cut!"
Amy stepped out from behind the back matt painting of the ‘Sleeping Forest’
and came to stand by Garret and Mark.
She slightly touched Garret’s elbow with her arm as she spoke to Mark. "That was fun."
Mark smirked. "What part? The floating? Or the fact you got all the lines?"
Amy smiled. "Not telling." Then she frowned. "And besides, I’m only in one more scene, and I don’t even get to
talk in that one. I just have to look
all ethereal and holy." She jabbed a
finger in Mark’s chest. "So don’t
complain about me getting all the lines.
You have the whole rest of the movie."
"Now, now, children," Garret said with a slight smile. "Let us play nice." Garret looked over at Max, noticed he was
flipping through the script, and deftly caressed Amy’s back with a hand. "Well done, Miss Burke. If you continue such as you are, you will
find yourself the newest addition to the male pin-up collection."
Mark laughed. Vanessa shook her head
as she sipped her water. Amy chuckled,
sending Garret a eye-crinkling smile.
"Only one pin-up allowed," she said softly.
Garret raised an eyebrow. Mark
stopped laughing, and his jaw dropped.
Vanessa shook her head again, smiling.
There was a clap. "Alright,
people. Hardest scene of the day. Let’s get to it."
Garret’s fingers lingered on Amy’s back a moment more before he turned to
make his way to his position on a cat-walk above the ‘Forgotten City’. Amy and Mark and Vanessa all made their way
to their respective positions on the ‘Forgotten City’ set; Amy on a circular
platform while Mark and Vanessa would be on a platform several steps away. Amy took up her kneeling position, adjusted
her dress around her, and then motioned to Max that she was ready. So did the others.
"Quiet on set! And… Action!"
Cloud
"Aeris' voice...... Coming from here?"
(He reaches a huge, elegant, crystalline city, suspended in space. Continuing on, he finds a small shrine. Aeris is kneeling inside it.) "Aeris?"
(There are five columns forming a path to the shrine, no wider than Cloud. Below them is a pool of pure, blue water. Cloud leaps onto the first column. The others move as if to follow, but Cloud waves them away. He leaps across the other columns and reaches the shrine. He steps onto the stairs leading up to the glass platform where Aeris kneels. The screen goes red for a moment. Cloud shakes his head and reaches for his sword... then shakes his head again and continues. He stands before Aeris. She does not move. He faces away and draws his sword. She still does not move. He turns to face her. He lifts his sword above his head. She still does not move. Cloud brings down his sword.)
Tifa
"Cloud! Stop!"
Cloud
(Cloud shakes his head and steps back.) "Ugh... what are you making me do?"
(Aeris continues to pray in the small shrine. She looks up for
the first time and sees Cloud. She smiles. Beautifully. The camera pans up.
Falling from the bright white light from above comes a black figure. It falls
faster and faster. We see that it is Sephiroth supposedly holding a sword.
Faster he falls, straight for Aeris.
His ‘sword’ pierces Aeris' body. Sephiroth, his sword through Aeris'
body, just stares at Cloud. His eyes glitter, cat-like, a sly smile on his
lips. With a great noise of grating metal, he makes the motion of pulling his
sword from her body. Aeris falls forward, her eyes wide open in shock... but
the smile does not leave her face. Then her eyes close. As she falls, her hair
ribbon comes undone and a small materia, glowing a pale green, falls from it.
It bounces once, emitting a small, pure sound against the glass floor. It
bounces again, and again, until it falls off the platform into the clear water
below.)
"Cut!" Max stood, clapping as he
stepped forward. "Great job,
people! That’s a wrap!"
Mark handed the plastic sword to the prop person as he sent Max an
inquisitive look. "Hey, Shepherd. Any idea what the pop was as Garret came
down." Mark looked to Garret as he came
to kneel beside Amy. "You heard
it? Right?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact," Garret said.
He placed a hand on Amy’s back.
"Well done, Miss--" He lifted
his hand and stared at the deep red.
"Oh my god." He looked up at
Max. "Call 9-1-1!" Garret turned Amy over onto her back,
cradling her in his arms. Her eyes
opened and she took a gasp of air, eyes wide as they focused on Garret’s. "Be still, Amy. Be still."
Max and Mark both frantically keyed 9-1-1 on their cell phones, rushing
toward the exit to wave them in.
Amy swallowed hard and gripped one of Garret’s arms as it held her. "D-Did you get the sh-shot?"
Garret grabbed the towels from Vanessa’s outstretched hand and pressed them
against the growing stain of blood in her abdomen area. Vanessa knelt beside Amy, taking her hand in
hers. "Shh. Don’t speak, Amy. Just be
still. The ambulance will be here
shortly."
Amy slightly nodded, gasping with pain as she squeezed her eyes shut tight.
The ambulance was there shortly.
Less than two minutes, thanks to the fact the studio had already
arranged for one to be on call in case anything happened. They loaded her up onto the gurney, keeping
the towels pressed tightly against the wound as they heaved her up into the
back of the ambulance. Garret was
reluctantly allowed to ride with her on the way to the hospital. So he sat at her side, holding her hand as
the EMT set about informing the hospital of what to expect on their arrival.
Amy tried to speak, but both the EMT and Garret shushed her. She didn’t try again. She only tightly clasped Garret’s hand as he
watched her paling complexion with growing dread.
Once they arrived at the hospital, Garret had to wait in the waiting room
while Amy was rushed to the ER.
All Garret could do was stare at the swinging double doors in stupefied
silence. The blood. That’s all he could see. Her blood.
Garret looked down at his hands… and his clothes… her blood. Her life.
Garret swallowed hard, backing up a step as he continued to stare at his
bloody hands.
"Sir?"
Garret looked sharply over at the nurse.
"Sir, if you’d like to get washed up," she motioned to the far hall, "you
can do that on the bathroom down that hall on the left."
Garret moved toward them without a word.
Garret scrubbed and washed and dried and scrubbed again, but all he could
see and feel on his hands was the vision of her blood. Finally, hands rough, raw, and peeling, he
stepped from the bathroom to make his way to the waiting room. Mark and Vanessa were there, and they stood
at his arrival.
"Well?" Mark asked. "Anything?"
Garret shook his head, jaw clenched tight.
"Damn." Mark sat. "Max’s at the studio," he said as he ran a
hand through his spiked blonde hair.
"Trying to find out what the hell happened."
Garret gave an absent nod before turning to stare again at the double doors
leading to the ER.
*
"How is she?"
Garret looked back from where he stared out the window onto the hospital
parking lot. "She is still in
surgery," he said evenly.
Max grumbled under his breath as he came further in to the waiting
room. Vanessa was napping fitfully
against Mark, who had an arm around her shoulders. Mark stared ahead of him with a blank expression. Garret changed his gaze back to an
examination of the cars coming and going.
Max came to stand beside him.
"It wasn't your fault, Garret, just so you know. We found a missing rivet in one of the
girders that supported your descent.
The metal snapped. Somehow it
missed the inspection." Max raised
his eyes to Garret's profile.
"I'll have someone's ass for that screw up."
Garret absently nodded.
*
Nudge.
Garret looked over at Mark, who motioned up to the entry of their private
waiting room. The doctor entered. Garret stood and stepped forward. "Doctor?"
Mark and Vanessa came to stand behind Garret as they waited for the answer.
The doctor’s expression was serious as he slightly shook his head. Vanessa turned into Mark’s comforting
embrace with a gasp and a cry. Mark’s
complexion went yellow. The doctor
looked to Garret, whose stricken expression paled. "Are you Garret?" Garret
wordlessly nodded. "She’s asking for
you. This way."
The doctor motioned for Garret to pass.
He did, and then he wordlessly and thoughtlessly followed the doctor’s
slow steps toward the recovery room.
The doctor held the door open for him, closing it after Garret passed
through. Garret halted in the middle of
the room when his eyes focused on Amy’s form in the hospital bed. Pale.
Unmoving. Pained expression… and
then she opened her eyes and smiled.
Garret’s eyes burned and his throat nearly wouldn’t let him breathe as he
moved toward her bed. He slowly sat in
the nearby chair and reached out to take her hand in his. His eyes couldn't lift from her hand to her
face. "Amy…"
Amy’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she tightened her hold on his
hand. "Garret Harrison," she whispered,
"you're speechless."
Garret brought her hand to his lips.
"I am afraid to speak lest that breath deplete from your own,"
he said softly. Garret couldn't meet
her gaze. "Do not make me face
this world without you, sweet muse."
Amy's smile faded as her eyes glimmered.
"Poet mine, you shall always have my presence within you," she said
in a tight whisper. "Do you not
know I have bestowed it upon your very heart and spirit?"
Garret pressed her hand against his lips again, and then his cheek, and then
his forehead. He closed his eyes. "Yet I have given you that which I have
always hidden within. My very
self." He slightly shook his
head. "Should you leave... I would not survive the parting." And his voice choked on the last word.
Amy watched his face as her tears escaped.
Her lips tipped downward. "Sweet poet," she whispered, "my world will be
gray until once again your voice is present to color my sky..." Amy's voice cracked, and she sniffed.
Garret shook his head again, opening his eyes to
meet her tear-filled gaze.
"No..."
Amy's thumb lightly caressed his cheek where he
held her hand against his face.
"Remember me, poet mine, that the delicate petals of my soul might
again embrace you to the heart you hold within the palm of your
gentleness."
Garret leaned forward, holding her hand tight
against his chest as he pressed his lips against hers, and her cheeks, and her
forehead. "Amy... please do not
leave me."
Amy took in a slow breath and released it. "Garret," she said in a broken
voice, "please don't ever regret our time together."
Garret lifted his head to meet her tear-filled
gaze. "How can I regret that which
gave me life, Amy?" he asked, tears glistening.
Amy's smile faded between one of pain and
happiness. Then a tear escaped Garret's
tenacious hold and dripped down his face to drop onto her hand. Amy flinched. "I never wanted to hurt you, Garret. If I knew this was going to
happen..." Amy blinked the tears
from her eyes so she could him.
"Garret, I-I'm sorry."
Garret shook his head. "Do not be sorry, sweet muse," he whispered. "Just live. Live and be my muse forever and always." He pressed his lips against her hand. "Live and marry me, sweet."
Amy choked out a laugh as she raised her other
hand to cover her face. She gripped his
hand and whispered. "I will marry
you, Garret. I will..." She lowered her hand from her face and gazed
up into his face. "But I fear I
die, forever separating me from your intensity..."
Garret caressed her face, Amy smiling sadly up at
him as he did his best to comfort her.
Words were no longer enough.
Then Garret felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked to his left. The doctor stood there.
"She needs her rest," he said quietly.
Garret slightly nodded as he deftly wiped the
tears from his cheeks with his free hand.
Then he turned back to Amy with a slight smile. He pressed a gentle kiss against her
forehead. "I shall return, sweet
muse," he whispered against her soft skin.
Amy took in a broken breath. "Please... sweet sweet poet, tarry not
in the presence of damsels and dragons."
Garret's throat tightened. "Surely I cannot tarry when my soul and
heart are held captive within your song and warmth." He pulled slightly back, kissing her hand as
he held her gaze. "Sleep now. Replenish that warmth and song I
adore."
Amy slightly nodded, a choked sob escaping. "I beg of thee, sweet poet, bid me
'until our dreams', for I shall surely seek you there," she whispered.
Garret tucked her hand under the blankets. "Until our dreams, dearest and most
tender muse. Until our dreams."
"And the Oscar for best supporting actor goes to.... Amy Burke from The
Reunion!"
The audience roared, applause reverberating through the grand hall as Sir
Garret Harrison stood to make his way down the carpeted aisle to the stage. Ms Vanessa Heron, Mr. Mark Frasier, and Mr.
Max Shepherd watched from their seats; somber and silent. Vanessa hid her face in a kerchief. Mark wrapped an arm around her
shoulders. Max looked pale. Garret accepted the shining trophy from the
presenting host and then stood at the clear crystal podium as he stared down at
it. After another moment of applause,
Garret lifted his gaze.
The audience quieted.
Garret cleared his throat. "As
many of you know," he began in a rough voice, "Amy Burke was lost to
us due to a tragic accident during her final scene." His throat tightened on the words, and he
cleared his throat again. Words
disappeared, lost again to the wave of grief and loneliness he felt at her
loss. Garret lowered his gaze to the
Oscar, adjusting his hold on it as the memories of that day gripped his
soul. Remembering the doctor's soft
words... "She passed away in her sleep. It was painless."
Painless... Garret cleared
his throat yet again. "Amy was
a... Amy was an actor such as I have never seen. She strived to understand her role, thereby doing her utmost in
the performance of it. She strived to
understand those characters her own interacted with, thereby deepening her own
understanding of what needed to be portrayed.
Amy..." Garret swallowed
hard. "Amy imbued a passion and
intensity into the movie it sorely needed.
She imbued a passion and intensity into our lives as well. Accepting us at our word. Pushing us to strive harder to understand
ourselves and those around us."
Garret raised his gaze again, not caring that tears had escaped his hold
to rest on his cheeks. He slightly
lifted the Oscar. "This is a
testament to that ability. Amy thanks
you, and I thank you."
Garret turned to exit the stage, not hearing the roar of the crowd, not
seeing the standing ovation, and not feeling anything but loss.
*
Garret closed the door of his English roadster with a deliberate action,
slowly turning to view the quaint cottage with the barn and the old Chevrolet
station wagon in the driveway. On the
mailbox were painted hummingbirds and the name Burke in cursive white
letters. He took in a deep breath,
releasing it through parted lips before stepping forward. He passed through the gate of the white
picket fence, accepted the greeting of the old German shepherd that licked his
hand, and made his way along the walkway border of pansies and primroses to the
covered verandah with the pine bench-swing and the white screen door.
Garret's smile was slight and pained as he stared past the screen into the
house full of memories and stories. He
could almost feel Amy beckoning him within its walls of warmth and songs and
love and happiness. It soothed his
aching spirit, causing tears to burn in his eyes as they did nearly every time
he thought of her. I have not
tarried in the caves and caverns of dragons.
I have not listened to the songs and murmurs of damsels. I have come to be with you, sweet sweet
muse.
Garret knocked.
A petite woman appeared in the hall at the sound. She had white hair, slim glasses, and a consoling smile. Mrs. Burke was a vision of aging loveliness
such as what Garret envisioned Amy...
Mrs. Burke pushed opened the door and motioned into the house. "Come on in, Mr. Harrison. I’ll put on
some tea."
The End
Author’s Note: Normally I don’t like doing these types of
tragic endings, but it was a request. So, I did. Believe me when I tell you
that I have never cried so much as when I wrote the last two chapters of this
story. I couldn’t believe what I was doing, but I’m a slave to my ‘fans’ and so
I did as requested. I wrote a sad ending. I mutilated the bunnies and flowers
that I so love to write and killed love (sob, sob).
I invite you to come to my website if you’d rather have had an alternate ending
(www.mintfield.org/fanfics/idex.html). I have it posted there on my fanfiction page.
Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed my fic. I certainly had fun writing it.
Mint