Notes: Sorry this took FOREVER. I couldn't figure out why I was so unhappy with the first draft of this chapter until I tried completely rewriting it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. I should probably mention that this story is unbeta'd so any and all spelling or grammatical mistakes are my own to apologize for. Sorry!
Lights ~ Late November
Chapter 2: Call Me Maybe
Maurice twiddled the pencil between his fingers, precariously balancing on the back legs of his chair. He could hear the rise and fall of his agent's voice in the other room, fighting with the festival's coordinators for the best time slot.
He slumped forward, his face and arms resting heavily on his desk, all four chair legs flat on the floor now.
He hated this in between time. The waiting and the pitching. The meetings, the sell outs, the price tags. Not that he didn't appreciate getting paid to make his movies, he just wished it could happen without all the hassle. He wanted to wrap up a project one day, see his meager savings increase somewhat the next, and then immediately start shooting again.
His hand itched when it wasn't holding a camera, even though that was happening less and less these days. For his most recent film, he'd had his first cinematographer, and while he still framed more than half the shots, it was really a different feel not being the sole person behind the camera.
Mainly it was the waiting that got to him though. He didn't want to be cooped up in his office waiting for the "thumbs up" from Chris, the agent. He was Reggie's idea. She didn't want her little brother's best friend getting scammed by big movie corporations.
Maurice poked at the phone that lay beside his hand and pulled up his recent messages, scrolling back to the previous Tuesday.
Eliza's response still made him smile after four days.
Not too shabby yourself, Twister.
His fingers instinctively started to respond, but he sighed and turned off the screen before he began.
He wasn't kidding when he said she'd looked good. She'd finally grown into those teeth she'd been wrangling in metal as a kid, and that long red hair was really beautiful when it wasn't trapped in braids.
He'd wished for his camera the moment he saw her, even before he realized he knew her. The way the dim light of the bar, reflected off the loose strands around her face. The way she tipped her glass, the liquid tracing it's way across the rim. The bored expression on her face. He wanted to frame it all and watch her story unfold.
He wondered afterwards how someone with a childhood like hers would ever be content with a life in an apartment in a city with barely a tree per square block.
The day after their meeting, he flipped open his phone with every intention of calling her and inviting her to lunch. Nothing too exciting, just two friends catching up. Then he started thinking about her, and he paced the floor around his coffee table thinking about the way the lighting at the bar hit her so perfectly, and the way she'd grown up so well. He thought about the last time he'd seen her, back when they were kids and he wondered if he had any of that old footage. It took him two hours and a call to Otto to track it down, but he found the old reel he'd taken during her visit.
Some of the shots were too grainy, aged from sitting in Otto's garage shelves while others were too quiet to hear. He did manage to find two good ones though.
The first was of Eliza ahead on the beach with the pet monkey she had. She was making monkey sounds to him, and she grinned to the camera, when she caught it focused on her. The guys must have been watching him film because as they camera approached her, Maurice heard Otto's voice say something like "She knows, she looks crazy when she does that right?" and young Twister laughed in response.
Eliza was explaining to the gang why the sea lions lounged on the beach and Maurice watched the video of her, so vibrant and excited and felt that itch to be behind a camera again.
The second recording was of Eliza alone. She was standing on the pier, leaning against the soggy railing, her braids flying wild in the sea breeze and the sun glinting off all the metal in her mouth. She turned to the camera and smiled, saying something to him that the sound of the wind blurred together to which young Twister responded, "Most days."
Maurice leaned up from the desk as the sound of his agent's voice quieted. He hadn't brought it up to Chris yet, this possible idea that was rolling around his head. He knew Chris would fight him. They still had festivals lined up through the end of the year and a number of publicity events that Chris continued increasing.
Still.
Maurice felt that itch in his hands and eyes, to squint through the narrow lens of his camera and frame the perfect shot. His head filled with lighting angles, perspectives, all centered around that frighteningly loud, and slightly know it all girl from his childhood that had somehow morphed in the loveliest woman he can ever remember seeing.
All that knowledge from her adolescence had given her a quiet intelligence, apparent to him even as she sat across him in a darkened bar. Her movements were precise, even her seemingly careless ones. She was an enigma that girl.
Or at least, that's what he thought.
He realized he was probably idealizing her, and it wasn't the first time he'd been inspired to create a film about a woman he may or may not be smitten with. But this was different.
He knew she had a story worth telling. He just wasn't sure what it was. And he couldn't ask her to be part of his project without having any idea what the project was.
He slumped back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling, searching the skies he couldn't see for inspiration.
He thought about all the things he knew and had looked up about her since their chance meeting. He knew about her childhood traveling the globe, the one of her teenage years spent in a boarding school before going back to the wild life of her documenting parents, and finally college once her parents had retired. Most recently she'd spent the last two years here in Los Angeles working as a curator at the Natural History Museum. From all that Maurice could tell, it was the longest she'd ever spent in one place.
Her entire life was a story worth telling, but hidden in there was the one story that would be the most interesting and Maurice was hunting for it.
A crisp knock on the door brought Maurice back to reality. Chris popped his head in the door. "Sealed the deal. Not a problem. Got you the best slot you could've asked for, right in the middle of the festival. Seriously, we couldn't have..."
Chris flopped himself down on the couch in front of Maurice's desk, expertly casual and Maurice's glanced back at his phone, all of Chris' rambling fading to white noise, wondering if he'd ever manage to call her.
"…play and play and play, but I won't let them..."
Maurice's looked back at him. "Wait, what? Play in play?"
Chris smiled, that talent agent smile and repeated, "Play and play," stressing the 'and.' "Yep, those coordinators try to string me along, but you've got the best in the biz..."
But Maurice's mind was racing away, the words tumbling in his head.
Play in play in play...
Maurice stood up suddenly, stopping Chris mid sentence as he continued to explain the miraculous deed he'd accomplished by getting Maurice into whatever festival was coming up first.
Chris watched as Maurice walked over to the bookshelf beside him and pulled out a thin paperback.
"Chris, can you do me a favor and call up Lor?"
The agent's smile fell as confusion overtook his features. "The cinematographer? "I told you, we already sent her an invitation to the thing."
Maurice opened the small book in his hands and flipped through the pages, occasionally sliding his fingers down the lines in deep concentration.
"No, ask her if she's got another job already."
This floored the agent. "What?"
"Tell her I need her. We'll be starting shooting almost immediately."
"Wait. What?" Chris rearranged his agape expression into that slick smile. "Whoa, slow down, you're not making any sense. We just finished our edits. We've gotta push this now, Maurice."
His client was barely listening, having seemingly found the page he was looking for. Maurice scanned quickly down the page, his lips moving ever so slightly as he read.
"Just tell her to meet me as soon as it's convenient."
"Maurice."
His eyes never leaving the page, Maurice grabbed his phone off the desk and headed for the open door.
"Sorry, Chris. I need to make a call."