Perfection, a "Life With Derek" fanfiction
by l-NonToxic-l
09.29.2007
Disclaimer: I don't own 'LWD' or the characters, nor am I claiming I wrote any of the Shakespeare quotes.
Notes: This is an article, from Casey's POV. I wanted to clear up that this isn't a story, just the article. I may make it a two-shot of post-press time reactions. Review if you'd be interested.
'Perfection.'
Writer/Director/Producer Derek Venturi has a little too much in common with the title of his newest film.
Article by Casey McDonald
Photographed by Marius Vanderbilt for Interview magazine
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When I hear the name Derek Venturi, my head isn't immediately flooded with images of him on the red carpet with a random actress hanging off his arm hoping for her fifteen minutes. Nor do I think of the sweeping epics he has directed. The gossiping headlines of the tabloids scream at me in line at the supermarket, yet not one of them has ever posed the one question I needed an answer to.
Sitting in the quaint Toronto café his publicist had decided on, sipping my macchiato, I began to get nervous. I'd interviewed many celebrities before. I am, after all, ten years into my career at Interview. But there was something different about the prospect of interviewing Derek Venturi. After all, he was my stepbrother. And I'd been in love with him from the moment our parents gave us the grave news – indirectly, of course – that we could never be together.
My fingers were tapping on the lovely maple tabletop when the door swung open. He seemed nervous, as well. But time has been good to him. He looked every bit as charming as he has when we'd met at fifteen. Hollywood had weathered him a bit, but with a George-Clooney-esque air of having become a man. Finally, his eyes met mine and he gave me a small smile. My heart raced. My fingers stilled. I knew it had been a mistake to accept this assignment. He gestured quickly to the barista and I knew immediately that he was going to get himself a coffee.
After a few moments wherein the barista expertly brewed his coffee – he was always very simplistic with food and drink – he finally sat across from me.
"Hey, Case… how are you?"
I glared at him, not answering, but hit the record button. "Interview with Derek Venturi, March 15th, 2027. Twelve-sixteen PM." I took a breath, wanting this to be over before it had even begun. "Let's get right into it, shall we?"
Derek seemed distant. The nervous man that had sat down moments ago was gone; the Derek Venturi in front of me now was cold and aloof. "Fine. I actually have to go to some final casting calls at four."
"Okay, then let's start with the question that I've been dying to ask you for years." Derek paled. "Why did you abandon your family in such a harsh and uncompromising way, Mr. Venturi?" If he wanted to play hardball, as if I meant nothing to him, then I could play right back.
"Shut the fuck up, Casey." He raised his darkened eyes. Instead of their usual light brown, they looked nearly black. "That has jack-fucking-shit to do with this interview. It's supposed to be about my new film. Not about you trying to get some answers."
I smirked. It was something he has always done. After years of living in such close quarters, I had picked it up. "Bull. Your new film is about a family torn apart by society. I'm just trying to get down to the meat and bones of this." The director glared at me one final time before lowering his gaze to his cup of coffee. I took this as my cue to continue. "What happens in the film, Derek?"
"Exactly what would've happened to our family, Casey."
"And what, pray tell, is that?"
He lifted his gaze to mine. "Society would have torn it apart."
I scoffed. "You didn't give society a fucking chance, asshole. You ran out before any of us could talk some sense into you. Next thing we heard, you were on the red carpet, chumming it with Jake Gyllenhaal. So don't feed me any bullshit about society when you're in the liberal town where Woody Allen can marry his stepdaughter and it's considered hot when Angelina Jolie would make out with her actual brother." I stood, pulling my coat off the back of my chair, composing myself long enough to bid adieu. "This was a horrible idea. I'll call my editor and have them send out someone else to do this."
Derek grabbed my arm and looked me intently in the eye. "Case, sit. I should probably explain this." I did as I was told and gestured for him to continue. "I couldn't do it anymore. Sneaking around with you was killing me. You were seeing that toolfuck Jim to cover it up and I just couldn't take it. I lost hockey for you. I just couldn't focus on it anymore. Every thought would be if you were sleeping with him, if you were going to leave me for him, marry him… everything. Then I decided to make a documentary for my admission to film school. Remember when I kept trying to tape you and you were getting so pissed?" I nodded silently. "Well, eventually, some studios got it. You inspired me so much, Case."
"So why did you leave?"
"Because I'm fucked up. I wanted you to be untainted by Hollywood. I knew it wouldn't have much affect on me. But you? I knew if you came, I'd want you to be in every film I made. It'd be so easy for you to be a leading lady in my projects. It's so easy for me to focus on you, revolve a story around you, make you look beautiful… I couldn't let you do that. You'd crack under the pressure, okay, I know you."
I stared at him. I mean, what could I possibly say?
"But months turned into years, and then I heard you got that job in New York, which is totally not where I shoot or could ever live, and then I read that you were still with Jim, and I knew that I couldn't ever see you again." He took a deep breath. "But that's what this film is about, Case. What society would've done to us. There's a central relationship that is perfect in every way that love can be, except by societies standards. It tears their family apart. And if you want to relay everything I've just told you as my inspiration, go for it. I really just don't give a fuck anymore."
I wrapped my hands around my mug, noticing that it was no longer warm. "Jim always knew he was my cover up. We'd worked out a deal. He was gay, Derek. But he wanted to play professional basketball so badly… he didn't want anyone to know. And I didn't want you to know because you're so damn cocky and I wanted you to think another guy really loved me. I wanted you to fight for me, Derek. Not pick up and leave."
He nodded. "And I'm so sorry, Casey. But you know I had to."
"Yeah, I know." A beat. Then, "Shall we continue?"
Derek nodded once again, only he seemed disappointed this time, not hopeful as he had before. "Yeah, let me just go refill these."
I was left with my thoughts for a few moments, processing all of this. Derek's excuse didn't completely satisfy me. I suppose it comes from watching so many of his films. I was expecting something more along the lines of, "Had I not left, a secret society of ninjas would have come for your blood. I left you to save you. I love you still, my sweet. I just couldn't let that happen to you." But, obviously, it was not that epic of a tale. Well it had left something to be desired on my end, I knew Derek believed in his reasoning. He just wasn't very articulate with his ideas.
"Here. One soy macchiato with cinnamon."
I gaped at him. We haven't been to a coffee shop since my sophomore year in college and he still knew my favorite? "What, did the barista tell you what I ordered?" I joked.
He smiled sadly, that look of disappointment returning. "No. I remembered."
Well, now it was awkward. I launched back in to the interview. "What was it about Cleveland that made you, a Canadian who is living in LA, want to shoot there?"
He smiled. "In all honesty, it was the entire feel of the city. It has the atmosphere of wanting to be better. Everyone there has such pride, even if the economy and state of the city are both so low. The residents want to build it up, you can feel it, but the government seems to want to part of that. To me, it was the perfect metaphor for the story."
"Why the use of sporadic Shakespeare quotes?"
Now, a smirk. It nearly knocked the wind out of me. I hasn't seen one from him in years. "Whatever are you talking about?" he asked innocently.
"There is an entire monologue lifted from Hamlet."
He looked at me, quizzically. "What monologue?"
He was only doing this because he knew I could recite it. I refused, and Derek continued to look at me, questioningly.
"I'm not going to act out Hamlet in the middle of a coffee shop. However, there is the line from Romeo and Juliet, 'O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?' And the lines you have taken from Macbeth! 'We have scorched the snake, not killed it.' 'Fair is foul and foul is fair.' 'O mistress mine, where are you roaming…' from Twelfth Night? Not to mention all the lines from his sonnets." He was smiling. "Why are they in there, Derek?"
He closed his eyes for a moment before refocusing them on his coffee cup. "You love Shakespeare, Casey. I put so many quotes into this story hoping that you would see it and know that the theme in the film – an unaccepting and cruel society – was why I left you."
"Oh…"
Another smirk. Another beat my heart skipped. "But here's an answer you can print: Shakespeare was an amazing wordsmith and I knew certain passages that would fit into the story. His words have a heartbreaking feel to them and I wanted that emotion displayed in the dialogue."
"Good answer." Derek smiled at me, and I continued with the interview. "Okay, so, what was it about Sarah – "
"Casey, I think you have more than enough for your story."
I furrowed my brow at him. "I've asked you three questions."
"But you have all the back story." He got up and handed me my coat. "It was good to see you again."
"Derek! I need to get this interview done. Sit your sorry butt down and listen to me!"
He looked at me very seriously. "I can't do this anymore, Casey. You know all my inspiration. Elaborate, misquote me, I don't give a shit. But I can't be around you anymore, okay? I've said my piece, and now, every second I'm with you is just driving me crazy." He gave me a quick, awkward hug. It was the most stepbrotherly he's ever touched me. "I'll see you around."
He was walking away. And, in typical Casey McDonald fashion, I panicked. "Derek!" He turned to look at me questioningly. Then my unstoppable mouth spurted, "I still love you. I don't think it ever went away. Actually, I know it didn't. But I'll always love you. I'm willing to flip society the bird if you are. We both have our names made; they can't blacklist us now. Scandal is just free press, right?"
In a moment, I was in his arms, kissing him for the first time in over twelve years. "I love you, too, Casey."
Now that, my friends, is a Hollywood ending.