Previously:
Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July 1, 2017
"Just lie down. Lie down and close your eyes," he said soothingly.
She swallowed and turned her head into the pillow, closing her eyes.
"All right," she said.
"I love you. Have a safe flight and let me know when you land," he said.
"I will," she answered. "I love you too."
She sobbed again when she heard the piano and drums playing through her phone, covering her mouth, the lyrics coming to her mind before they were sung.
'I can hear her heartbeat from a thousand miles, hear the Heavens open every time she smiles, and when I come to her, that's where I belong, and I run into her like a river strong…'
The darkness became the Lancaster Ballroom at The Savoy Hotel in London, all the lights dimmed except for a single spotlight on the dancefloor, bathing her and Alex as they took their first dance as husband and wife.
'She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love. She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love…'
Crazy Love was their wedding dance. She always loved the 1970 Van Morrison song. He knew it from the R&B cover by Brian McKnight. Both of them assumed that their version was the only one, leading to a rather heated argument that was as passionate as it was silly. They often played both versions in the car.
She let the tears flow, listening to their song as it lulled her back to sleep.
Chapter 10:
San Sebastián Airport, Hondarriba, Basque Country, Spain, July 2, 2017
Matthew stood patiently in the baggage claim area, watching as various pieces of luggage in different sizes, shapes, and colours came sliding down the conveyer belt to join the slow crawl around the winding metal carousel. It was almost 9 p.m., and he'd been traveling for almost 24 straight hours. It was still light outside, sunset being not for another hour, but he was essentially worn out. He kept his sunglasses on, his earphones securely fastened, listening to his Mozart playlist for the tenth time today.
The overnight flight from Toronto to Paris was spent in the luxurious business class of an Air Canada Boeing 777, with the lovely seats that reclined all the way back. He was literally ensconced in his own pod, making it difficult for him to see Mary lounging across the aisle, let alone maintain a conversation with her. That was probably better, anyway. He needed to spend the flight getting some actual rest after spending the entire day with her.
They slept in on Canada Day morning following the Paladin wrap party from the night before. He made a light breakfast – poached eggs and toasted English muffins – which she ate quickly before luring him straight back to bed. They both had the foresight to pack their luggage earlier in the week, or more accurately, he'd packed his luggage in advance and she'd instructed Anna to take care of hers. As a result, they were already set for the evening departure and had the entire day to themselves.
Knowing that they would be separated and living in different countries for the summer, they spent the day having sex, pausing to eat and recover every few hours, then having more sex. It was the kind of decadent behaviour that he never expected from Mary, a day of constant shagging that he had only fantasized about but never dared to suggest. He was perfectly happy with making love to her the night before and having a normal Saturday of relaxing, going for a walk, maybe having lunch on a sun drenched patio before heading off to the airport. She wasn't having any of that. They fucked in every room of his apartment, some more than once, and in a plethora of positions that he wasn't quite sure how they managed. He half expected to receive a noise complaint from the concierge, but thankfully the usual bustle of the downtown streets below helped mask their sordid symphony.
Before the plane left the gate in Toronto, he lifted his head and looked over the edge of his pod across the aisle to hers, catching her stretching her arms. She glanced his way and caught him watching her, arching her eyebrow and rolling her eyes at his stupid grin. He knew it was blatantly obvious what he was thinking about, but he didn't care, winking at her teasingly before they both sat back and prepared for take-off. As usual, she had to have the last word, and as soon as they were airborne, she used the plane's WiFi network to send him several lurid texts, inviting him to meet her in the loo, even sending him a cheeky photo of her licking her lips. He chickened out and fell asleep somewhere over Quebec. Joining the Mile High Club with her was severely tempting, but he didn't want to cause her another scandal, and really, he knew she was joking all along. If they were on a private charter, that was one thing, but flying commercial required a certain level of discretion and restraint.
Now, standing here in Spain by himself, he wished he had taken her up on her offer. The glorious memories from the past few days were a comfort, but they only made him long for her more ardently. Upon landing in Paris, she stayed at the airport with him, hanging out in the Air France La Premiere lounge and delaying their inevitable parting. They spent an hour nibbling on the food and talking about anything that came to mind, holding on to each other's company for a little while longer. Eventually he had to catch his connection to Madrid, and she and Anna had to head into the city to get settled. They found a secluded corner for one last kiss, and she was gone.
The flight to Madrid was fine. The small, twin-propeller plane to San Sebastián a bit less so, and now he stood on the brink of a new adventure, alone in a foreign land. Tomorrow he would get excited. Tonight, he just wanted to get to his rented apartment and go to sleep.
"Buenas tardes, Señor Crawley. Welcome to San Sebastián."
It took him a second to register the voice. He blinked and turned around, removing his sunglasses in surprise.
"Lavinia!" he exclaimed, taking in the smiling, petite, ginger-haired woman standing before him. "Hi!"
"Hello, Matthew," she replied, laughing and giving him a hug and a kiss to his cheek.
"What are you doing here? I didn't know you were working on this film," he said, stepping back from her.
"It's been on my list for a while. When I saw you won the lead, I was absolutely chuffed, of course, but I thought I'd just wait and surprise you," she said cheerfully.
"That's great," he said, nodding his head. "At least I'll know someone here now."
She nodded. "The driver is waiting outside. Once we've got your luggage, we can go."
He nodded and glanced over at the carousel. Still nothing.
"And how is Dave doing?" he asked, inquiring about her husband to pass the time.
"Well, thank you," she replied. "He might come down at some point, though he's quite busy. Thank you again for the wedding present. It was so thoughtful of you."
"I'll confess now that my mother picked it out, actually," he admitted. "But I'm happy to take credit for it."
She laughed and touched his shoulder. "I was rather suspicious, but it was lovely. I just wish you could have made it over to join us."
"Right, yeah, me too," he said kindly. Lavinia had gotten married in May in Liverpool, and Matthew sent along his regrets early on. Though he wasn't working, he wasn't going to fly to England and be away from Mary for a weekend just to go to Lavinia's wedding. He originally planned to just send a card, but Mother convinced him that he should do something more thoughtful, given how helpful Lavinia had been during Shattered. She and Cora found a wonderful vintage flower vase and had Lavinia and her husband's initials and wedding date inscribed in it. Matthew thought it was a bit of a tacky gift, but he didn't complain. He was glad Lavinia liked it.
His luggage eventually came down, much to his relief. He grabbed the two large suitcases and brought them out to the car. The ride to his apartment was short, though Lavinia directed the driver to take the scenic route, traveling along a highway through green hills and country fields before heading through the suburban outskirts and down to the water, winding along narrow cobbled roads into the Old Quarter.
"They call it the Old Quarter, but it's actually only about two centuries old," she noted. "It meets all the pre-requisites, though – old churches, public square, maze of small streets better meant for pedestrians than autos. It's actually quite nice, and just gorgeous now in the summer time."
He nodded, looking out the window and taking in the old buildings surrounding them, with their iron balconies above and shops and tapas bars on street level. When the car arrived at his apartment building, she handed him his packet, including his keys, map, guide to local spots, information on the area and the first week's call sheets for filming at the beach location about twenty minutes up the coast.
"There's a really lovely restaurant just down the street, actually," she continued. "A bit better than the typical pintxos dives. Fancy a bite after you freshen up?"
He turned and looked at her, smiling politely. "Thanks, but I think I'm just going to turn in. I'm worn out. You'll need to give me a tour tomorrow though, otherwise I might get lost and not make it to set for Tuesday," he said.
She smiled. "Don't worry. We'll make a local out of you yet. Besides, we're shooting on the beach, so just head to the water, keep going west, and you can't miss it."
He laughed and thanked her before saying goodbye and getting out of the car. The driver helped him bring his luggage up, then left with a polite tip of his cap.
The apartment was smaller than his place in Toronto but featured an immense terrace with a spectacular view of the Bay of Biscay and neighbouring Mount Urgull. He smiled, contemplating having a go at the twisting roads up to the summit on his brand new bike once it was delivered here. Thinking of the bike made him think of Mary, and as he watched the sun set over the vast, blue water, he took out his phone and called her. Thankfully, Paris and San Sebastián were in the same time zone, meaning he didn't have to worry that their schedules would conflict any more than usual.
"Hello, darling," she said warmly. "You've arrived, have you?"
"I have," he confirmed, looking out across the water at the boats moored in the harbour. "It's quite nice here, being so close to the beach and the water, a bit of a change from Toronto."
"I can imagine," she replied. "It rained here after your flight took off. A bit of a metaphor, don't you think?"
He chuckled at that, leaning on the railing. "I suppose you consoled yourself with a shopping trip to Avenue Montaigne?"
"You suppose right," she teased. "Chanel and Hermès were very happy to see me."
He laughed and shook his head. "How's Anna?"
She sighed. "All right. Her apartment is just down the street. I deliberately booked mine a few buildings over because I wanted to give her and Alex some privacy, but now…"
"I know," he said tightly. "Well, let's hope that all is well by the wedding next month."
"Speaking of which, I'm doing a conference call with Sybil and Edith tomorrow," she complained. "Likely so that Edith can give us yet more additions to our respective task lists."
He smiled. "Well, that does form part of your duties as the maid-of-honour, doesn't it?"
He could almost see her rolling her eyes from the tone of her voice. "I suppose so. If Sybil wasn't pregnant, I'm sure Edith would have asked her instead. Anyway, all that's left is the menu tasting, the hen night and the rehearsal, so God help us if we can't get through those with minimal fuss."
"That reminds me. I should ask Tom what's going on for Bertie. If we're making more than one trip to London, I'll need to know rather soon," he said.
"Oh, I think all of that will be done the week of, darling," she said. "There's no point flying up there for a night, then having to turn around and go back straight away. Sybil would be incensed."
"That would be helpful," he agreed. "Connecting through Madrid was fine, but it has been a very long day."
"I'll say. What are you doing now?" she asked.
"Missing you," he replied softly, looking out to the setting sun.
"Mmm, you are rather honey-tongued, aren't you?" she drawled.
"You would be the one to know," he flirted.
She laughed. "You know, we had best get back to our witty repartee and trading clever barbs, otherwise it'll get out that we're just as sappy as any other couple."
"We can spar tomorrow. Today I still get to miss you," he said.
"You had plenty of me these past few days," she said lightly. "Didn't you get your fill?"
"Not even close," he said thickly. "Shall I tell you what we would be doing if you were here on this terrace with me?"
"Get your WiFi set up so you can show me what you mean," she challenged.
"It'll be up tomorrow, I am assured," he said quickly, the thought of doing a video chat with Mary before they went to sleep jolting him from his drowsiness momentarily.
"It had better be," she said. "All right, go to bed. Anna and I are going grocery shopping and other such excitement tomorrow, but you can call me in the evening."
"Goodnight. I love you, Mary," he said.
"I love you too," she said warmly. "Dream about me, won't you?"
"I always do," he said. "Bye."
Église Saint-Étienne-du-Mont, Quartier Latin, Paris, France, July 10, 2017
"I want you to model for me."
Mary looked up in surprise, frowned for a second, then lowered her gaze back down to the street as they kept walking. "Me? Why? I'm not a model."
Vincent laughed. "Oui, mais c'est parfait. You are an ingénue – untouched, unspoiled. I want my students to have a fresh face to work with. It will be easy for you, and the school pays very well."
She nodded her head slowly, as if contemplating the idea.
"Come to tomorrow's class," he pushed gently. "You can see how we work, and if you are comfortable, you can then model for the next week's class."
She sat down on the steps, taking a bite of her croissant and thinking as she chewed. "And if I still say no?"
He chuckled and remained standing, looking down on her with a smile. "I promised your uncle that I would introduce you to my friend the music producer, and I will. This is just an idée, something to fill your time, that's all. Take it, or not, is okay."
A camera was wheeled forward to shoot down on Mary as though she was looking up at Vincent towering above her.
"Well, all right," she said, shrugging. "One class and I'll see."
The camera retreated so that another could zoom in on him as though he was looking down on her, the sun casting a glow from behind his head.
"Wonderful, Lily," Vincent exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Wonderful."
Anna watched from off-set, not able to hear Mary speaking as easily as if she were at an indoor studio. Filming outside on-location was always a fun change-of-pace, particularly on a lovely, sunny summer day in Paris. They were using this area because it was near several schools, which fit Vincent's character, Antoine, an art instructor, and moreover for the steps behind the church that faced a narrow, cobbled street surrounded by ancient buildings. The setting was very French, very Paris, and had been used in other films before. Looking around, Anna still couldn't quite believe that they were here.
The first week had flown by. They were scheduled to shoot indoors at a studio later in the month, so Anna wanted to savour the outdoor sessions as much as possible. She took countless photos on her way to set each day. Even buildings and churches that weren't particularly famous or noteworthy looked incredible and seemed to have sprung from classic novels to her. Mary had been to France numerous times ever since she was little, but this was her first time, and she was quite impressed. There were only two problems.
The first was her French. She thought it was passable before she arrived. Though not nearly as good as Mary's, she could understand well enough and figured she could manage. When it came to actually speaking to real Parisians though, she learned quite quickly on their first day here that she wasn't nearly as fluent as she thought. She was met with confused stares and strange glances when she tried to talk to some of the store clerks in the boutiques they visited, and trying again at the markets hadn't gone any better. Even when she did manage to string together proper phrases, her terrible grammar and pronunciation led many to smirk in amusement before either replying in English, or shaking their heads. She could get by at the major tourist attractions and department stores without a problem, but the main part of her job required her to deal with all sorts of people so that Mary didn't have to. Not being able to speak the language was a problem for her professional life.
The second problem was more personal.
"Hey! So, great news! I spoke to the manager at the bakery that Mary loves and he's agreed to make a special delivery each morning. Pain au chocolat, macarons, and petite madeleines will be dropped off at yours. You can bring them over to hers so she doesn't have to wake up too early."
Anna's face lit up as she turned and smiled gratefully at the woman who came up to her. Edna Braithwaite was the Third Assistant Director on the film, and had met Anna on the first day of shooting. She was one of the few crew members who wasn't French, born and raised in Newcastle before moving to Paris over ten years ago. She got along with Anna right from the off, and had been helping her get used to the production and figure her way out around the city.
"That's brilliant!" Anna exclaimed. "God, thanks loads. I was completely lost trying to talk to him. I was afraid he was going to throw me out at one point."
"Oh, he's an old softie. He just likes to act all gruff, that's all. He thought you were some spoiled English wife looking for special treatment because of that massive diamond you've got," Edna joked.
Anna glanced down at her wedding and engagement rings and frowned for a second before recovering. "Oh. Well, whatever, I'm just glad it's all sorted. Now I can move on to the next calamity."
"Don't let it get to you," Edna advised. "Even if you were completely fluent, you'd probably still get treated a bit rudely. Parisians are just like that. They can smell when you're not one of them. They're even horrid to other French people, though they're not as bad as they used to be, mind."
Anna laughed and nodded. "I wish I could say that was the last favour I'll need, but I doubt it will be."
"Hey, you can rely on me as much as you like. It's been ages since I've had another Brit to work with. Besides, it's a nice change from filling out call sheets and organizing the extras," Edna said.
"Well, all the same, first round's on me the next time we're at the pub," Anna said, keeping her voice down as the scene continued filming before them.
"I'll remember that," Edna promised. "Speaking of which, Friday's Bastille Day and it should be a blast there. Do you think that Mary will let you off early?"
Anna took out her phone and looked at her calendar. "Oh, I can't. I've got a few things booked that day already."
"Aww, damn. Is your husband coming in for the long weekend?" Edna asked.
Anna swallowed and shook her head. "No. He's busy with work so he can't make it. I probably won't see him for a while, actually."
"Wow, that's brutal, yeah? Spending a summer in the City of Love without your husband?" Edna remarked.
"Oh, it's all right. We talk pretty much every day, and I'm sure we'll come back here on vacation at some point," Anna said.
Her stomach clenched, her mind recoiling at her own words. She didn't exactly talk to Alex as much as she texted or emailed him. With the six-hour time difference between Toronto and Paris, she was usually asleep by the time he was done at the office. Plus, she was running around a lot in these first few days, trying to get Mary settled and arranging everything. She tried to call him when she could, but most nights they ended up leaving each other voicemails, or just trading texts hours apart.
She missed him, not just his presence but she missed the way she used to be with him, because that wasn't the way they were now. When she managed to get him on the phone, she could tell he was being a bit cautious and guarded, and that made her feel terrible. He was afraid of saying the wrong thing, of possibly setting her off, and despite his usual cheerfulness, she knew he still resented her for going to France without him. Why wouldn't he? It was because of her that he wasn't here, that they weren't together. They didn't flirt, barely joked, and there was a distance between them in their conversations that she didn't know how to bridge. It felt almost as if they were keeping touch out of obligation more than anything else.
"Well, Saturday night, then," Edna said. "The pub will be full of Brits in for the weekend, so it should be super fun!"
"Sounds great," Anna agreed, smiling bravely.
Playa de Izturun, Zumaia, Basque Country, Spain, July 12, 2017
"And action!"
Matthew blinked several times, slowly opening his eyes. He spat out sea water and panted, turning over on to his back and groaning, staring up at the blue sky. The waves crashed on to the beach and came crawling up to him, the cold water dousing him thoroughly before receding back. He sat up, covering his face with his hands, his soaked and torn clothes clinging to his skin. Raising his head, he looked to his left and right, trying to figure out where he was, then moved to stand up.
"Argh!" he grunted, cringing as a sharp pain shot up his calf. He shifted his weight to his other leg, but this caused him to hop a bit as he turned around and clumsily waved his arms to stay upright.
"Cut! Cut!"
"Sorry, sorry," Matthew called, falling down to his knees in the wet sand. He sat down with great difficulty and reached for his leg, rubbing his calf and groaning in discomfort.
"You okay, Matthew?" the director asked, coming over with a team of assistants to check on him.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's just a stupid cramp," Matthew mumbled.
Someone threw a large towel across his shoulders while someone else wondered aloud if they should call one of the paramedics over to look at Matthew's leg. His face warmed in embarrassment and frustration, silently trying to order his calf to loosen up.
"Uh, look, you need to change anyway, Matthew, so let's take a break. You can get some water and stretch out your leg and we'll pick up again as soon as you're ready," the director said, patting his shoulder sympathetically.
"I can go now, I just need a few seconds and it'll be fine," Matthew said tightly.
The director was already walking up the beach with his entourage, the staff yelling out to everyone looking on that they were on break until Matthew's cramp passed.
He scowled as he kept trying to stretch his leg.
"Matthew, let's go up to the wardrobe trailer. You need to get out of those wet clothes."
He looked up and smiled sheepishly at Lavinia. Two production assistants helped him stand up and went with him as he moved gingerly up the beach to the staging area where all the trailers were set up. He went into Wardrobe and got out of his wet clothes, drying himself off and putting on a robe. Slumping into a chair, he kept working on his calf, trying to get the blood moving down his leg faster to get him back to normal.
"Here, drink," Lavinia ordered, coming into the trailer and handing him a sports drink.
"Thanks," he mumbled, popping the cap and taking a long drink.
"Matthew, you really need to relax out there. You're tight, literally and figuratively," she said.
"Yeah, I…it's just…I'm not used to filming in the water, I guess," he said, a fresh shot of embarrassment coursing through him.
She chuckled and shook her head. "I know you want everything to be perfect, and yeah, it's a complicated scene. You're soaked, the water's freezing, there's probably sand in some rather inconvenient places, and all the while, you're trying to look dashing and heroic, rising to your feet and marching up the beach, a man on a mission."
He scoffed and frowned.
She laughed again. "Matthew, this could end up being a memorable scene, the one that everyone talks about when they see the finished movie, the one that gets tongues wagging about you."
He nodded.
"Or it could end up cut from the final print and therefore this entire day could be a waste of time and money," she said easily.
He turned to look at her and crinkled his nose in confusion.
She smiled patiently. "The point is that you have no control over how memorable, how powerful, how effective the scene is in the end. You have no idea if the audience will even get to see it. So, rather than drive yourself insane worrying about whether you look ruggedly handsome enough or not, just act naturally. You've washed up on shore. You thought you were dead. Now you remember that you need to find your sister. That's what drives you to get up and get moving. It's not supposed to be clean and pretty, with your hair perfectly styled and your open shirt billowing in the breeze behind you. Don't worry about how the scene must look. That's the cinematographer's job. Just get it done."
He looked away, thinking on her advice. When he pressed his fingers into his calf again, it felt much better.
"I'll go and tell the director that you should be all right in another ten minutes?" Lavinia suggested.
He nodded and smiled at her in thanks.
"Oh, and just in case you need some help lightening up, here, watch this," she said, passing him her phone.
He took it and looked at the screen. A video of the scene they had just shot, with him yelping in pain like a schoolboy and hopping around on one foot was playing on loop. Lavinia had recorded the entire thing, apparently.
She laughed at his petulant frown. "A good actor knows how to laugh at himself, Matthew."
He gave her a sarcastic smile and passed her phone back.
Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, July 13, 2017
"Oh God!" Anna exclaimed, covering her mouth in shock as she looked at the tablet screen.
"What is it?" Mary asked, glancing up from her own tablet and looking over to Anna from her spot lounging on the vintage sofa.
Anna swallowed and turned her tablet towards Mary.
Mary frowned, then rolled her eyes and went back to her own browsing. "Ah, yes. That's the one where it's my head on some porn star's body. Whoever that is, she's quite beautiful, but I would never get a tattoo in that exact location."
Anna quickly closed the image and returned to her original browser window. "What moves someone to do that? To actually spend time creating this fake picture of you?"
"I have no idea. That's what I'm supposed to be figuring out," Mary muttered, scrolling over some of the thousands of comments on the photo she posted to Instagram yesterday of her smiling on the gleaming white steps of Sacré-Coeur Basilica. The overwhelming majority were positive, the usual 'you're so gorgeous, Queen!', 'ILYSM' and heart emojis from fans all around the world. She ignored the hate and spam messages. She was looking for something more, something approaching obsession that her director had told her to tap into.
'I hope and pray that I meet you someday. You're my favourite actress ever!'
'Your tits look great. Did you get surgery?'
'Sweet Jesus, bae! I would so give it to you raw!'
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I don't think this is helping. Even if you could say that any of these fans are 'obsessed' with me, it isn't the same as Antoine and Lily. At worst, they might want to see me naked or have sex with me. Antoine wants something more than that."
Anna cringed and nodded. This was certainly turning out to be one of the more bizarre research assignments they'd done together. "Let's focus on the characters then. He doesn't start out obsessed with her. So what happens?"
"It starts out as this sort of paternal, protective relationship," Mary continued. "He's older than her, has promised to do her this favour. She's all alone in Paris at first. He feels she's his obligation…"
"He doesn't think she's able to cope without him," Anna noted.
"Right. It all changes though when he sees her model for the art class. She's no longer just his friend's niece. She's a woman to him now. He sees her in a sexual way for the first time, but it's more than that. He sees beautiful women all the time and doesn't look twice at them. Lily is different."
"Or the 'second Lily' is different," Anna said.
"Exactly. So now he has this protective instinct towards a beautiful woman who he also finds very sensual and arousing. They start to spend more time together. His infatuation is turning into something else," Mary explained.
"Because he sees her as not just being beautiful, but she inspires him, both artistically and emotionally," Anna said, scrolling through the images on her tablet screen. When Googling Mary, the majority of photos were promotional shots and screen captures of her and Henry, usually kissing or embracing. "Being with her isn't just arousing him. It makes him feel better about himself, feeds his ego."
"She makes him feel good, or the idea of her does," Mary remarked. "Whether it's just feeling happy, or confident, turning him on, whatever. The thought of her makes him feel better than he does normally. That's the obsession. He wants to feel like that all the time, and it manifests itself in her."
"Like being in love," Anna said slowly.
"Yes, but crucially, when it's apparent he can't be with her in that way, he doesn't just give up or admire her from afar, he now begins to plan ways to be with her constantly. More modeling assignments, more tours of the city, and it all comes to a head at the café," Mary said.
"You do look good together. Vincent is a very handsome man," Anna said.
Mary smirked. "Yes, and at over 20 years older than me, he is exactly the type of man that the movies say would be perfect for me."
Anna laughed ruefully.
"Anyway, that's the key, then. I need to be this ideal version of Lily at times, so the audience can see what he sees in her, but also show that things are going very well for her also. It's a bit like when you see someone happy and full of joy, a part of you wants to know what their secret is, and get close to them to share in whatever they've got. Being with Lily lifts him up, or so he thinks, so I need to play her as gradually growing more confident, more calm and at ease with her life, just happier," Mary said, nodding her head.
"Smile and look pretty," Anna said, frowning in thought.
"That's not enough though. There's something more that he sees in her," Mary muttered. "What I need to do is get a different perspective. Think like a man."
Anna scoffed. "You could ask Matthew."
"No, I talked about it with him a bit, but I don't think he's the right person for this," Mary answered. "He's in such a good place right now, with his career and everything else. Of course he loves me, but he doesn't depend on me, he doesn't rely on me for his happiness."
"I don't know if I would say that," Anna countered.
"I'm not saying that I'm not a part of him being happy, but I'm not the only part. Antoine is happy when he's with Lily, and despondent when he isn't. It's unhealthy how so much of his happiness depends on her," Mary said. "We could ask Alex. He could talk about you all day."
Anna frowned, keeping her eyes on her tablet. "I doubt that."
Mary looked over at her friend and her heart tightened in sympathy.
"Well, I suppose I'll just have to go out and find some men, then," Mary said lightly.
Anna smiled. "Can't wait for that. So you've got a monologue in the morning and that's it. The whole city will be shut down for Bastille Day. Are you sure you don't want to go out anywhere? There's parties all over the city."
Mary sighed. "I'm here to work. I want to focus on this film."
Anna nodded and went back to her searches.
Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Old Quarter, San Sebastián, Basque Country, Spain, July 14, 2017
Matthew grunted as he did his last push-up, his arms shaking as he raised himself up, then lowered himself back down for the final time. Taking deep breaths, he turned over on to his back and sat up, pausing for a moment before getting to his feet.
With July being the hottest month in northern Spain, every day was filled with glorious sunshine and balmy weather. It made the trip to and from set quite enjoyable, but it meant that he had to slather on the strongest sunblock he could find several times a day. His character wasn't supposed to be tanned until later on in the film, so these first weeks required that he stay as pale as possible. He couldn't ride his bike, was left to do his workouts indoors and didn't even take walks until late in the evenings when the sun had gone down. It was rather comical on set when he would be surrounded by umbrellas and shades between takes. Rooney found it hilarious, since she and the rest of the cast could be as tanned as they wanted. Seeing Matthew so obviously uncomfortable with the 'star treatment' helped break the ice between them, as he was so refreshingly grounded compared to much bigger stars that she'd worked with before.
Walking over to the kitchen, he smirked as he deliberately avoided the last rays of the setting sun streaming in from the terrace. Finishing his bottle of water, he looked up suddenly when the alarm on his phone went off.
Frowning for a second, he took a deep breath and walked over to the dining table. Turning off his alarm, he touched the screen to wake up his laptop. The display brightened immediately and he hit the Refresh button on his browser, holding his breath as the page reloaded instantly. He frowned for a moment before his eyes widened. He read the text twice to make sure he was seeing it correctly.
When he was sure that he was, in fact, reading what he thought he was, he smiled and pumped his fist in relief and pride. Laughing heartily, he opened his video chat app.
Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, July 14, 2017
"It's just fucking shit that Henry was nominated again."
Mary laughed, shaking her head at Sybil's frowning face on her tablet screen. She was so elated at her own news that she didn't even care about Henry. The mention of the man's name could do nothing to dampen her mood.
"It was highly likely that he would be. Once you've been nominated and won, you're pretty much a lock to be up for it every year, and to be fair, his storyline in Season 4 was quite impressive," Mary said.
"I suppose so, I just don't want to have to see the smug bastard on television," Sybil said, rolling her eyes.
"At least you can change the channel. I'll have to see him live and in person," Mary joked. "Anyway, I don't even care. It's such a stupid cliché to say that I'm just happy to be nominated, but honestly I am. After everything that's gone on this past year, to be up for another Emmy – I thought it was impossible, absolutely impossible."
"You deserve it, darling. I'm glad the Academy isn't as completely insane as the studios are," Sybil said cheerfully.
Mary laughed, then looked up as the door opened and Anna came in.
"It's Sybil," Mary said, smiling at her assistant.
"Hello Anna!" Sybil called.
"Hi Sybil," Anna said. "I'm just going to grab some glasses for the champagne."
She headed off towards the kitchen, the sisters' pleasant conversation following her down the hall.
"How are you feeling?"
"So much better. I was exhausted yesterday. The baby kept moving all night and I just couldn't get comfortable. She's not even kicking for real yet, so that's going to be an absolute treat when she really gets going."
"I bet Tom is loving it, though."
"God, that man! He eggs her on! He keeps rubbing my belly and telling her to kick! I'm going to fucking kick him in the bollocks one of these days, I swear. See how much he likes it."
Mary laughed.
Anna stopped and closed her eyes, cringing at hearing their conversation. Eventually, she shook her head and continued on to the kitchen as Mary and Sybil kept chatting away.
"Have you spoken to Mum?" Sybil asked.
"Not yet. She texted me her congratulations but we haven't talked about the other thing," Mary said, sighing and shaking her head. "I suppose we'll have to. I really don't want to get into it with her, but it won't do to not talk to her at all until the wedding."
"Just get it over with," Sybil said. "You know that whatever she says won't make any sense to you, but just let her say her piece and leave it."
"Champagne!" Anna announced, bringing two flutes into the living room and handing one to Mary.
"Santé!" Mary said, clinking glasses with Anna and taking a long sip. "Mmm, that's quite good."
"I tracked down a bottle of 2004 Belle Epoque Rosé earlier in the week, just in case," Anna said proudly. "I had a feeling we'd be opening it today."
Mary laughed and smiled gratefully. "Thank you."
"Well, you can't just celebrate with champagne, can you? Go out! Isn't it close to 9 over there?" Sybil asked.
"It is, and it's Friday night, not to mention a national holiday," Anna added.
Mary rolled her eyes and grinned. "All right. Perhaps some dancing is in order. Do you think you can get us in anywhere on such short notice?"
"Leave it to me," Anna said. "Bye, Sybil."
"Bye, Anna!" Sybil said pleasantly.
Mary's eyes brightened as she saw a new chat window pop up on her screen.
"Darling, I've got to go. Matthew's calling," Mary said.
"Oh! Tell him I'll call him back tomorrow. Congrats again, darling! Love you!" Sybil said quickly.
"Love you too. Bye," Mary replied, closing the call with Sybil and answering the call with Matthew. She grinned when his smiling face showed up on screen. His hair was a bit messy and he wasn't wearing a shirt.
"Goodness, naked already? Rather eager, are we?" she teased.
He laughed and shook his head. "I was just working out, I'll have you know." He moved his tablet down to show he was wearing his Manchester United football shorts, then brought it back up to his face. "See?"
"Yes. That's rather disappointing of you," she said with false disappointment.
He chuckled. "Congratulations, darling. I never doubted you would be nominated again."
"I certainly did," she replied with a smile. "Thank you, darling. You're so sweet. Now, what do you think Armani will put together for you to wear to the show?"
He smiled at her curiously. "Well, I suppose I'll have to see if I'm invited first."
She nodded in understanding. "I'm sure that Aunt Rosamund will try and convince me otherwise, and I'm sure that I'll be stupid enough to think about listening to her, but for right now darling, let's just say that you're coming with me, because I would love it if you would."
He grinned. "Very well. Since we're pretending, let's talk about what we'll do after you win, and at the after parties, and when we get back to our hotel after that."
She gave him a wicked smile and arched her eyebrow. "I'm all ears."
L'Arc Nightclub, Place Charles de Gaulle, Paris, France, July 14, 2017
Normally Mary wouldn't be impressed by all the fake glitz and glamour of a nightclub. She'd been to plenty in her time and though she was always up for a night of dancing and great music, she wasn't particularly moved by the usual nightclub atmosphere – the coloured lights, the smoke and pyrotechnics, the women wearing next-to-nothing parading around with trays of shots. Paris, just like any other big city was full of young people spending their trust funds and parents' money, or the new rich showing off their fortunes won on the stock market, or on some tech venture. These nightclubs catered to their spoiled egos, usually forcing normal people just looking for a good time to wait in long lines and treating them like lepers if they ever gained admittance. She tended not to associate with people who enjoyed the superficial nightclub lifestyle. Anyone with real money that she knew were too busy working to make more of it to bother with clubbing.
Even she had to admit, though, that this place did trendy excess very well. It faced l'Arc de Triomphe, for one, and crammed as many people in as possible while still keeping a long line outside to maintain the appearance of exclusivity. The bartender, servers, dancers and even the men in charge of clearing away empty glasses were all gorgeous and fit, and the music was loud and throbbing, striking a decent enough balance between mainstream and electronic.
She and Anna walked straight in and were shown to their private VIP booth, far enough away from the crowd, but close enough so they could see and be seen. She greeted people who came up to her that she barely knew throughout the night – models, actors, football players and a hip-hop artist or two. Coming off of her wonderful news, she was in a fantastic mood even before the first round of vodka and tonic, and the special treatment she received only boosted her high. She wasn't against a bit of elitist privilege after what she'd been through this year.
Into her third round now, she was delightfully buzzed, swaying to the music in her little space carved out on the dance floor. Throughout the night, she'd been watching the people around her. Men stalking women. Women coquettishly keeping them at arm's length, or brazenly letting them get closer. The entire idea of obsession filled her mind, and she found herself wondering what everyone's true intentions were. Was it as simple as two beautiful people in the mood for an easy fuck? Was anyone here actually thinking they could use a brief encounter as the beginnings of something more meaningful? Where was the blurred line between conquest and romance?
As she enjoyed the bass thrumming through her body, she stole a few glances to see if anyone was watching her. It was hard to tell in the dark, but she imagined she had picked up a few admirers over the past two hours. She smiled to herself, a flush of pride and a thrill of wickedness filling her. Deep down, it was fun to be admired, to know that she still had 'it', that she could still entice men in this random club, in this foreign city. Her ego had taken numerous hits over the past year, and even this basic level of adulation was secretly welcomed. As the song changed, she opened her eyes and looked around. Anna was dancing a short distance away, lost in the music. Looking over the crowd once more, she spotted a man at a private booth, his dark eyes locked on her. She smirked and held his gaze just long enough so that he knew she noticed him, then kept on dancing while he watched.
Anna felt hands on her hips. They would touch her lightly, then pull back, only to return again when she didn't turn around or look behind her. She didn't know whose hands they were, didn't want to know. She closed her eyes, head thrown back, arms moving to the rhythm of the music as she danced. When Mary decided they would be going out tonight after all, her spirits had lifted immensely. She and Edna had gone out for drinks a couple of times, but those were just casual trips down to the pub, more about relaxing after work amongst the many ex-pat Brits living in Paris. They were for comfort and conversation more than anything. Mary wanted to party, to celebrate her Emmy nomination, to let loose, and Anna was more than ready to join in.
She had found out about this club early on during their stay, but never had an opportunity to go, and was afraid of showing up on her own. Now that they were here, it met all of her needs. Huge crowd. Frenetic lights. Pounding music. It was a place full of gorgeous people looking to lose themselves for a few hours. Exactly what she wanted to do.
One of the unknown hands slid down her thigh, then moved around and up to cup her arse, not quite groping, but rubbing and caressing, another warm stimulant to go along with the alcohol and music filling her brain. She felt herself floating in the darkness behind her closed eyelids, just another woman dancing in a club, out for a fun night. For a fleeting moment, she remembered the Paladin wrap party, surrounded by her friends, lightheaded from drinking, the heat of the marijuana filling her lungs. That was what she was missing. That extra high. The push to clear her mind completely. She didn't know when she had started thinking about such things, but it came to her now, a craving that she wasn't entirely aware of, but that lay deep in her mind.
After several seconds, she opened her eyes and walked away, leaving the faceless stranger behind and shimmying her way through the crowd until she carved out another place to dance. Closing her eyes again, she smiled as she caught up to the beat of the song and let her body move as it wished.
"I've been watching you. But then, you already knew that."
The voice was sophisticated and deep, the slight hint of an accent that Mary couldn't quite place. She turned around to face her admirer, the man having finally moved from his private booth to come over to her. He moved slowly back and forth from side-to-side, not quite dancing, not quite standing still. His eyes, now so close to hers, were a chocolate brown, darker than his hair, which was closely cropped on the sides, but slightly curly on top. His perfect teeth and expensive suit screamed money.
"You're not the only one watching me," she replied, continuing to dance, though she kept her eyes on his.
"No, I'm probably not," he said, leaning in closer so she could hear him. "But you've been dancing alone, so I thought I'd come and rescue you."
"Rescue me?" she repeated with a smirk. "From what?"
"From anyone else who might be watching you, anyone who might want to do you harm," he said.
"My, you make it sound as if I'm in danger," she noted, drawing back to look at him in amusement before letting him approach to reply.
"You are. You're in danger of leaving with the wrong man," he said.
"You're rather full of yourself," she noted, enjoying the banter in the middle of the dance floor. The stranger was rather handsome, she had to admit, though a bit too blatant with his leering. It was obvious what he wanted, and that he didn't mind letting her know.
"I believe in being simple and straightforward. You English are too preoccupied with ceremony and process. You know what I want, so why not cut straight to it?" he asked.
She laughed, barely paying attention to the music now as she leaned in. "Sometimes, a woman likes to be pursued, rather than just accosted on the dance floor."
He smiled in reply. "I think you're a woman who appreciates the direct approach. Besides, I don't know when we'll meet again, so it's tonight, or never."
"Again with your grand pronouncements," she teased. "Why me? Why not any of these other women here? I may not be what you think I am."
"You are exactly what I think you are," he replied easily. "You're worth more to me than anyone else here. You're the one I want."
"But why?" she asked, a shiver going down her spine as she felt his warm breath on her neck. Anticipation filled her, both for his answer and for what she had planned for him.
"I have very particular tastes. I like a challenge, but one that is well worth the effort. You enjoy being here, but you don't need to be here. You think yourself above all of this – everyone here – that you're better. I like showing women like you exactly where you belong, who you really are," he rasped.
She rolled her eyes. He was obsessed all right, but obsessed with himself. Still, his approach was instructive, though her addled brain would process it all later on. She hadn't done anything much at all to lure him in, and yet here he was, drawn to the way she moved, whatever attitude she was apparently giving off. Before they even spoke, he had already decided that he wanted her for the night, and his words revealed a darker intent than just a one-night stand. She decided this had gone far enough, but still felt a rush of dueling with him.
"Do you see that blonde over there? The petite one in the blue dress?" she asked.
He looked over her shoulder. "Yes."
"I'm with her," she said, feasting on the surprise in his eyes.
"Bring her along," he retorted. "I can handle the both of you."
She laughed and shook her head. Leaning over, she kissed his cheek and patted his face as if he was a lost puppy. "Thank you for a lovely chat. I found it most entertaining. I can't wait to tell my boyfriend all about you."
He smiled and nodded his head, his dark eyes never leaving hers. She turned around and headed for Anna, not bothering to look back to see if the stranger was still watching her.
Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Old Quarter, San Sebastián, Basque Country, Spain, July 15, 2017
'Even before all the fame and people screaming your name, girl I was there, and you were my baby…'
Matthew blinked, the glowing screen of his tablet propped up on his nightstand the only light in the bedroom. Reaching over and tapping the Answer button, he swallowed and cleared his throat as Mary's smiling face appeared on the screen.
"Mary?" he said thickly, his mouth tasting rather unpleasant. "You all right?"
"Hello, darling," she said, smiling warmly. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I needed to talk."
"It's all right," he managed, rubbing his eyes and sitting up in bed. He leaned back against the headboard and brought the tablet over to his lap. "What time is it?"
"Almost half past three," she said easily. "I just left Anna's and I'm in no mood to go to sleep just yet."
"Mmm hmm. What time is your call tomorrow, or later today?" he asked, running his hand over his face and stretching his arms above his head to try and wake himself up.
"Not until the afternoon," she replied.
"All right. How was the club?" he asked.
"It was a lot of fun, actually. I had a great time. There were paparazzi there when we left so you might see my photo online any minute now," she said, laughing.
"I'll look out for that, then," he said.
"Darling, I have a bit of a confession to make," she said, arching her eyebrow and biting her finger.
He blinked, waking up a little more. "A confession? About what?"
"I did a bit of flirting tonight, you see. It wasn't anything serious, but I was essentially propositioned on the dance floor by someone. I didn't bother finding out his name. I think he was Eastern European. Anyway, I did shut him down, of course, but I played with him a little bit first. I actually wanted to know why exactly he was interested in me, why he chose me out of the crowd. He didn't seem to know who I was, or if he did, he didn't let on that he did. It was real world research for the movie, but I won't insult you by pretending that's all it was," she explained, her expression growing more nervous as she spoke.
He blinked and nodded slowly. "You liked the attention."
She lowered her eyes for a moment before looking at him again. "Yes," she whispered.
"Did you ever consider taking him up on his offer?" he asked, his voice firm.
"No," she said immediately, shaking her head. "Never. I always knew I was going to reject him. I suppose that's why I enjoyed it so much, letting him dangle a bit before I cut him loose, because I knew I always would be loyal to you in the end."
"Are you telling me this because you feel guilty?" he questioned.
"No," she replied.
He nodded. "Are you telling me this because you've been bad?"
Her eyes widened, a slight gasp leaving her lips. "Yes."
"And what should your punishment be?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.
She blinked. "Whatever you decide," she hissed, taking a sharp breath.
He grinned and set the tablet down in front of him, leaning it up on its stand. "I love you, and I trust you. I want you to be careful when you do go out. You know how easily things can take a dangerous turn, especially when it's just you and Anna out together."
She smiled in return, setting her tablet down on the bed and sitting back so he could see all of her. "I love you too, more than anything in the world."
He nodded, his smile turning sinister. "Now take off your dress, slowly."
The Bombardier Pub, Quartier Latin, Paris, France, July 21, 2017
"So I saw the rough cut of one of Mary's monologues today. Damn, she's fucking good!" Edna remarked.
Anna drank her draught beer and nodded. "She's been working her ass off trying to get it right. We're still tweaking a few things, looking for that balance for Lily between naïve innocent and temptress, or figuring out two versions of Lily that she wants to play."
"So what? You pretend to be Antoine when she does her readings?" Edna asked, laughing.
Anna frowned at her playfully. "I do my job, which is to help her be the best she can be."
Edna laughed and took a drink of her stout ale.
"We've been doing a lot of research into artists and the women who inspired them. It's interesting, actually. Most of the time, they had very passionate relationships with their muses, then separated and had periods of isolation before either finding a new muse or going back to the old one. It's funny. Even after having numerous affairs, they all still invariably claimed that their muse was always their soul mate, their one true love," Anna said.
"That's not an artist thing, that's a male thing," Edna deadpanned. "Men would have still have harems if they thought they could get away with it. One woman to be the muse, one to be the mother, one to be the whore, and one to do all the cooking and cleaning."
Anna laughed and finished her drink.
Edna waved to the bartender and motioned for him to bring Anna another beer.
"No, no! I'm done. I've got to go," Anna protested.
"Oh come on! Just one more!" Edna pleaded. "I'm not even half done mine, and I hate drinking alone. It's so pathetic."
Anna sighed and shook her head as the bartender put another beer in front of her. "All right, fine. But only one."
"Cheers!" Edna said happily, clinking glasses with her.
Office of Alexander Lewis, Bay Street, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July 21, 2017
Mrs. Chen came into Alex's office, already dressed to leave. She walked over and placed a large Tupperware container on his desk. The thump of the rubber hitting the polished wood caused him to turn away from his computer screens and look at the box, then up at her.
"Cha siu bao," she announced.
He smiled and nodded. "Thank you. See you tomorrow."
She nodded and left.
He lifted the lid and smiled at the sight of twelve homemade steamed barbecue pork buns organized in neat rows. Every year for the past six years, Mrs. Chen had cooked them for him. He shook his head and went back to his monitors.
He'd been keeping longer hours since Anna left for France, there being not much reason to be home by any particular hour each day. He had gotten back in the habit of going swimming and working out, so he did work from home a couple of days a week. But when he was in the office, he tended to just stay until ten or eleven at night. His clients were loving the change in his schedule. He was back to taking conference calls at all hours, 10 p.m. for China and Japan, 3 a.m. for Europe, 10 a.m. for New York and 1 p.m. for Los Angeles. He grabbed sleep when he could, finding it sadly quite easy to slip back into his old routine from years ago, when Anna traveled more often and she was only home for a couple of months at a time. His partners were also loving the return to the "old" him. In just three short weeks, his billings were up massively, and he was on his way to having a record month. He had already hit his annual target with five months to spare. The irony did not escape him that he was lined up to make millions in what was turning out to be the worst year of his life.
His parents called this morning, as did Matthew. He got a few texts and emails from his aunts, uncles, cousins, and a few friends. None of them brought up Anna. Matthew, who was the only one who knew the entire situation between them, didn't mention it out of respect. Thankfully, his parents were used to her leaving for work, and never knew about her pregnancy, so they didn't ask any questions and merely assumed it was just another business trip, and that he and his wife would be back to normal come September.
He wished he could be as certain.
The video chat screen popped up on his monitor, taking him by surprise. He glanced at the clock before answering.
"Hi."
"Hi," Anna said, smiling reservedly. "Happy birthday!"
He nodded, acknowledging her attempt at enthusiasm. "Thanks. I…uh…I got your gift. It's great. Thank you."
"I'm glad you like it," she said. "The store clerk promised me that colour and style wasn't available in North America yet."
"No, it's not," he confirmed. "Not until Fall, probably."
"Good thing I happened to be in Paris, then," she said, cringing and swallowing nervously a moment too late.
"Yeah," he said tightly. "Lucky me."
She averted her eyes for a second. "So how was your day?"
"Fine," he answered. "The partners took me out to lunch. We went to Canoe."
She nodded. "That was nice of them. You like it there."
"Yeah. I splurged and had the halibut. It was good," he said curtly.
"Ah. Well, we'll have to celebrate for real when you get to London. Erm…we can go anywhere you like, on me, of course," she offered.
"Sounds great, yeah," he replied, smiling wanly, keeping his eyes on hers.
"Are you going home soon? It's past your usual time to leave," she noted.
"In a bit," he answered. "It's pretty late over there. Long day on-set?"
"Umm, no, well, yes it was. We wrapped at around 8 and I had dinner and drinks with Edna," she explained, gritting her teeth when she realized the implication of what she'd said.
"I see. Well, it's still technically my birthday over here, at least," he said, his eyes locked on hers.
She swallowed. "Yeah, good thing."
"Anyway, I should wrap up here and go," he said, nodding his head.
"Right, yeah," she agreed. "Just text me when you get home so I know you made it back okay."
"Sure."
She looked down, pursing her lips. "Babes, I…I love you," she said, looking up at him imploringly. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks," he said, pausing for a moment. "I love you too. Goodnight."
He ended the call before she could reply, before she saw him pound his fist onto his desk, rattling the Tupperware container, and before he could see her bury her face in her hands and cry.
Flat of Alexander Green, Chelsea, London, England, July 25, 2017
"I get it. She's your type. Blonde, blue eyes, short, fit, a bit naïve, and married. I get all that. What I don't get is that you've been trying for how many months now? You usually don't put so much effort into it. You're usually bored long before now and just move on."
Green smiled, walking around his office in his underwear. He went over to the bar and poured himself a Scotch, carried it over to his desk and wandered out into the hallway and back again, all while maintaining the conversation.
"You of all people know that I make exceptions when I think it's worth it, and she's worth it," he said easily.
"It can't be just for the sex. She's got money but it's all her husband's, and I know you aren't trying to steal her from him. That's definitely not you. So what, then?"
He laughed and shook his head, leaning over his desk and bringing up his collection of photos of Anna that he'd taken while he was in Toronto. "If you must know, it's because of a number of reasons – mainly that my first attempt didn't work, and that Tony and Mabel told me to give her up."
"Ah! Now that makes sense. Nothing gets your back up more than being told you can't do something."
He snorted. "I should thank them in the end. Pulling this off is going to be fucking sweet. Now, you're sure that she's on her own for the summer?"
"She said she isn't going to see her husband until we wrap and she goes back to Canada. He hasn't shown up yet, that's for sure."
"He'll probably meet her in London for Lady Edith's wedding next month. It's going to be a big Society do. She'll be coming up for it, guaranteed, and I can't imagine he won't be there, especially if they've been apart for over a month by then," he mused.
"Maybe you'll get lucky and she'll show up on her own."
"Maybe she'll show up on her own and I'll get lucky," he joked.
"You're such a fucking prat."
"Careful," he warned her mischievously. "Don't talk to your employer like that."
"Blackmailer, more like it," Edna grumbled.
"Now, now, we both know you love a good scheme, don't you?" he said smugly. "And we both know how much you hate being stuck as a Third Assistant Director. Well, play your role in this and you'll be moving up, just like I promised."
"Yeah, yeah. Just don't hurt her. I quite like her, actually. She's really nice," she said.
"Relax. I'm not going to hurt her. I'm going to do her a favour. I'm going to open her eyes," he said.
"Yeah, whatever," she scoffed.
He frowned when the call waiting beeped in his headset. Glancing over at his phone, his annoyance vanished and he grinned widely.
"Sorry, honey. I've got another call. I'll check in with you again next week. Ta!" he said, hanging up before Edna could respond. He picked up the call waiting and sat down at his desk, his hand resting between his legs. "Well, hello."
"Hi," Anna said. "Sorry for taking so long to call you back. It was hell on-set today."
"No problem, no problem. I was just on the line with my aunt. You saved me from listening to her tell me about getting a boil lanced," he said, using his free hand to bring up a photo of them from the wrap party. He had his arm around her, she was leaning against him, her eyes dazed from the weed she'd smoked.
"Eww, that's disgusting," she said.
"Yeah, it's gross. I would much rather talk to you. How was your day? Tell me about what happened on-set?" he asked, grinning as he stared at their photo and stroked himself.
Song Credit:
My Boo – Usher and Alicia Keys, (2004), LaFace Records