Fitz Grant had a reputation.
It had started almost fifteen years ago after his first studio film. He had been doing theater work and small independent films, but when he took on the supporting role in an epic about fighters in ancient Rome, everything changed. Personally and professionally.
His talent, which had gone under the radar up to that point, was suddenly in demand. His business team fielded calls, read scripts and scheduled interviews. He hated all of it. He just wanted to act, work with other actors and live a quiet life in between jobs. He tried firing his team and managing his own career, but the sheer volume of offers and inquisitions was too much for him to handle on his own. So instead of quitting altogether, which he had considered, he became extremely selective about movie roles. He tried to only do projects that inspired and challenged him. He was nominated for two Academy Awards. He turned down superhero roles and opportunities for six sequels and action figures. He was a social activist at times, particularly about human rights and animal issues, but was rarely seen in public. Always doing work behind the scenes.
This method of living and acting led to constant rumors about his personal life. He had been in one serious relationship with a former costar over a decade ago, but since had spent most of his free time with his family (two parents, three sisters) and at his home in Kauai (on the south shore, on a bluff overlooking the Pacific). He had an apartment in New York, and he liked it there just fine, but he enjoyed solitude. In that sense, the idea that he was a recluse, as had been repeatedly reported by the press, was not completely false.
So Fitz's reputation was that he was incredibly private and serious, probably doing or growing drugs on his property in Hawaii and extremely selective when it came to his movies. Is it still called a reputation if most of it is true? The real issue is that the press sensationalized everything. He was private, sure, but with his friends and family he could be incredibly obnoxious. A "smug asshole at times," according to his youngest sister Juliette. He did not do drugs. He was very selective when it came to movies, but he resented anyone who tried to use that as a criticism. He took his job very seriously, and just because he didn't want to be the new Batman doesn't mean he doesn't feel grateful for all of the good in his life.
It was this strange dichotomy between what is real and what is reported that Fitz was thinking about as he sipped his drink at the corner bar near his apartment in the West Village of Manhattan. He knew the bartender, Henry, as well as one can know a bartender who has boundaries. It had recently been reported that Fitz had trashed his apartment and was living in a nearby hotel; this was inaccurate and Fitz had just had a laugh about it with Henry.
"I figured, man. I knew you wouldn't leave the Village," Henry said as he wiped down the bar next to Fitz. A couple had just finished a night cap, leaving the bar empty except for Fitz, Henry and a group of women in the corner.
Fitz laughed. "Exactly. It has everything I could ever hope to get out of this city. And who else knows exactly how I like my drink?"
"I'm honored, man. Whenever anyone asks me about you, after you've been here, and I say you're kind, funny and generous with your time and energy, people think I'm giving them shit."
"Generous with my time and energy?" Fitz asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I've been mediating, Mr. G. Keeps me centered."
"See," Fitz said, finishing off his whiskey and soda, "this is the best of New York right here. You're an evolving creature, Henry, just like me. I'm glad to know you."
Henry filled a water glass for Fitz, knowing it was about the time when he would head out. He filled one for himself.
"Cheers, Henry. Thanks for not believing everything you see on Entertainment Tonight."
A voice Fitz had never heard before sounded from behind him.
"Is Entertainment Tonight even still a show? I used to watch that with my mom after dinner while we folded laundry."
"Olivia!" Henry exclaimed, as Fitz slowly turned in his bar stool.
She was wearing tight jeans and black long sleeved t-shirt. Not fancy, but still put together. He hair was curly and pulled into a ponytail. Her caramel skin was make-up free and flawless.
"I used to do the same, actually," Fitz said, looking her in the eye. "Except I wasn't allowed to help fold laundry, so I brushed the family poodle instead."
"Must have been a thing. Laundry and shows about famous people. Mindless for the mindless," Olivia said, with a smile.
"Olivia, welcome back. What has it been, six months?" Henry asked, winking at her.
"About, yeah. Is this seat taken?" she asked, gesturing to the chair beside Fitz.
"No, of course not. Please," he said, pulling the stool out for her.
"Right, so I've been traveling for work. I'm just in town for tonight, actually, but I felt like I couldn't relax until I came for my drink and my catch-up time with Henry."
"Whoa," Fitz said, putting his water down. "Henry is mine."
Olivia giggled. "I'm sorry to say, but he's mine."
Henry put his hands up. "Don't make me choose. You're both very special to me." He handed Olivia her red wine and headed over to the only other patrons who were looking to order another round.
"There's just something about his drinks, isn't there?" Fitz said, nodding at her glass.
"Absolutely," she said, taking a small sip. "You'll have to forgive me. I come here expecting to have the place to myself. And now I find out there's someone else in Henry's life?"
"I know, it's disturbing. To think we were floating through life not knowing we both thought we were his favorite."
"Everything has changed," she agreed.
They looked at each other for a moment. Fitz found himself, for the first time in as long as he could remember, not in full control of his feelings.
"So, Olivia, was it?" he asked, clearing his throat.
"Yes. Olivia," she said, putting out her hand.
"Fitz," he said, placing his hand in hers. They shook.
"Nice to meet you, Fitz," Olivia said, tucking her long bangs behind her ear.
"You said you were traveling for work?"
"Yes. I'm a teacher. But over the summers I work with the YMCA and travel with groups of kids on week-long, I don't know, adventures? These are kids who would otherwise be left to their own devices and who work or are granted scholarships to be able to sail for a week in the Caribbean or build a house in Detroit. That's where I've been."
"Wow, so now summers off for you, huh? It sounds both rewarding and exhausting." Fitz was enamored.
"You're exactly right," Olivia said as she finished off her drink. "It's good work, and it affords me opportunities I wouldn't otherwise have. If I'm being honest, there are times I wish I were in my apartment alone with a book and some tea. But it keeps me busy. Keeps me focused. Keeps me energized."
Fitz processed this.
"What do you do?" she asked. But before Fitz could answer, she put her hand up to stop him.
"Wait. I'm sorry. I'm a terrible liar. I know who you are."
He laughed. "You just gave yourself away! You really must be a horrible liar if you give yourself up before I even start talking."
She laughed. "What can I say? Honest to a fault."
There was a comfortable silence then.
"So, as you know, I'm an actor. Film mostly. I've done some theater but that was mostly earlier in my career. Back when I was younger and could work six days and nights a week. Like a teacher, except without the pressure."
"Hey, don't sell yourself short. I saw you in 'Our Town' twelve years ago. You were fantastic and moving. There's pressure there to do a good job, do the play justice, entertain folks who paid money to see you."
"That's very kind of you. 'Our Town,' huh? How do you even remember that?"
"It was my birthday. I asked my boyfriend at the time to take me."
"I see," Fitz said, shocking himself with his follow-up question. "How old were you turning, eleven?"
She rolled her eyes. "Please. I was 19. College."
It was easy to do the math. He was only two years older than her.
"I was in college, too. I had to take a leave of absence to do that play. I never finished."
"Do you wish you would have?"
"Sometimes," Fitz replied. "I'm pretty gratified in what I do. But I do love learning. I always feel like there's more to know. So in that sense I'm sorry to have missed the opportunity."
"That makes sense. I loved college."
"Do you teach here in the city?"
"Yes. I'm up at a private school for girls. It's kind of, what's the word?"
"Pretentious?" Fitz offered. He had attended a private school for boys in Michigan. He knew the type.
"Yes. Definitely pretentious. I often find myself apologizing for working at a place where the students are so privileged, but if I can be honest," she trailed off.
"You can," Fitz said.
She looked up. "I love it. My students, most of them, love learning the way I do. They have big dreams and they work hard. Their parents I could take or leave. But I love those girls."
"No apologies necessary. Every school needs teachers. And if you need to console yourself or others with the work you do over the summers, then so be it."
She smiled. "You've figured me out, I guess."
"I'm trying to," he said, smiling back.
Henry strolled over. "Anything else, you two?"
"May I have a water, please?" Olivia asked.
"Same for me," Fitz said.
"Slow down, my beautiful people. Don't go overboard," Henry said, handing over their drinks.
"Did Fitz tell you why he's in town?" Henry asked.
"Henry, please, you don't have to do this."
"No, let's hear it!" Olivia said.
"I don't want to upset either one of you. Finish those waters, I'll be closing up in twenty." He made his way down the bar, cleaning as he went.
Olivia turned. "Well now I'm interested."
He raised his eyebrows. "You weren't before?"
She blushed, and that made him happy.
"What brings you to New York in August?"
"I grew up in Michigan but came here for NYU and to make it big. While I was here, I had some things happen in my family and some great people came to my aide. I started a foundation to support their work, and I'm presenting them with a grant tomorrow."
"That's impressive," Olivia began.
"Thanks. It's the least I could do."
"But it was also really vague. You don't have to share anything too personal. We're strangers, I get it. But it sounds quite interesting. I would love to know more."
"We're not strangers," Fitz said, putting his hand through his curly hair that he had grown longer over the summer.
Olivia considered this. She had not expected to meet anyone, let alone Fitz Grant, at Henry's place on a random Friday night in August. He was down to earth, a great listener and, it had to be said, handsome. A quick glance at her watch showed her they had been talking for almost an hour. She wondered if these next 20 minutes would be the last she'd ever spend with him. She found herself hoping that wasn't the case, and her mind starting buzzing.
"I'm sorry," she said, trying to regain some balance. "I shouldn't have pried. But you shouldn't be so modest."
"It's only partly modesty. You don't have to apologize, but I'm also not really in a place to just share everything about myself with someone I just met."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them.
"Right, yes, of course." She started going through her small purse to find cash for Henry.
"Wait, please," he said quietly, putting his hand over her arm.
She stopped to look at him.
"That came out wrong. I only meant that I don't typically talk about myself, like really talk about my life, with anyone. Not costars, not Ellen DeGeneres, not random people who stop me on the street. So it feels, I don't know, odd, to have you ask me to brag or share my sad story because I think you genuinely care, but my general response to anyone outside of my family showing genuine feeling toward me is to," he trailed off, making a waving gesture with his hand.
"Run?" she asked.
"Run, walk, surf in the opposite direction."
"Surf?" Olivia inquired.
Fitz breathed a sigh of relief, hoping her continuing of the conversation meant he hadn't scared her off with his knee-jerk response to talking about his childhood.
"I love the ocean. I have a house in Hawaii and being near the water is my happy place."
"Never been to Hawaii," Olivia said. "But that's one of the reasons I like New York. Big city, with some bodies of water nearby."
"The East River?" Fitz said with a laugh.
"The harbor, and the Atlantic!" Olivia countered.
"I know what you meant. I suppose if you haven't seen the color of the Pacific from the south shore of Kauai, you don't really know what you're missing."
"Thanks a lot, Mr. Movie Star."
He could tell she was messing with him. He could hug her was so grateful that she didn't run out and gave him a chance to explain.
She could tell she had touched a nerve and that he was relieved to have moved past it. It wasn't unlike her to pry into the lives of people who intrigued her. And Fitz definitely intrigued her. He seemed to have a lot to say, and yet in any interview she had ever watched, he had appeared shy and quiet. This night had felt like she had run into a man at the bar with whom she felt a connection. It just so happened that the man was famous.
"Look, Fitz, I'm sorry too. We just met, I shouldn't be asking you to tell me your life story. I tend to get carried away. I like to hear people's stories."
"Me too. And I like telling them. It's part of why I do what I do. I suppose I'm pretty terrible at telling my own though."
"Go figure," they both said simultaneously, and laughed.
They realized then, at the same moment, that this had been easy. That their conversation had been comfortably-paced, full of laughter and mostly stress free. As they stopped laughing, Olivia found Fitz'z blue eyes trained on her own brown ones.
"I'm so glad to have met you. This has been an unexpected night cap. Unexpected in a good way."
Olivia nodded. "I agree. It was a pleasure meeting you."
She put ten dollars on the bar, and Fitz immediately picked it up and handed it to her.
"Please, my treat."
She rolled her eyes. "One drink, a water and some time in the stool. I can afford it, even on my teaching salary."
"I'm sure you can. I'd just like to treat you, if you don't mind."
She hesitated, then put her purse over her shoulder. "Sure. Thanks, Fitz."
He found himself unsure of what to do next. Ask for her number? Follow her out? Let her go?
"Henry!" Olivia called. "I have to get going. I have a flight back to Detroit tomorrow."
Henry came around the bar and wrapped Olivia in a hug. Fitz was jealous.
"Thanks for stopping in to see me. We'll be here when you get back," Henry said.
"I'm counting on it," she said, smiling and turning to Fitz. "Well, good night."
He stood up. "Good night," he said, following his instincts and stepping toward her while opening his arms.
She sighed, happy he had taken the hint. She allowed herself to be wrapped in his embrace and couldn't help but notice how strong his body felt. His big hands rested on her back. He dipped his head a bit so that she could feel his breath on her neck. They were breathing in sync. The stepped away from each other. Time stood still.
"What time is it?" she asked, looking around for a clock that wasn't there.
Fitz glanced at his cell phone. "It's after 1:00."
She nodded. "I should get going."
He groaned inwardly. This was the longest goodbye ever, and he knew he had to do something.
"May I have your phone number? Talking to you has been, well," he stuttered. "May I have your phone number?"
She smiled. "You may. Especially because you asked so nicely."
She took his phone and entered a new contact. She included her e-mail address for good measure, hoping that when he checked his phone later he would know that it meant she was hoping to hear from him again.
"Thanks for a wonderful night, Olivia. I'm glad we both have the same bartender boyfriend."
Henry roared with laughter, as did Olivia.
"And safe travels," Fitz said, going in for one more quick hug.
"Thanks. Henry, Fitz, hope to see you soon."
With a quick wave she exited the bar and started the two block walk to her apartment. She loved the West Village, even if it was far from her school. She had grown up here and it felt like her neighborhood. She was just letting herself into the lobby of her building when her phone buzzed in her pocket.
"Hello?" she said. It was a number she didn't recognize.
"Henry tells me I should have offered to walk you home."
"I mean, it would have been gentlemanly of you. I probably would have turned you down though."
"I figured. I was trying to play it cool."
"Totally understandable. So was I."
There was a pause then. Another comfortable pause. And then Fitz realized he hadn't greeted her properly.
"Hi," he said quietly.
"Hi," Olivia replied, letting herself into the apartment where she would spend the next 40 minutes on the phone with Fitz, picking right up where they had left off.