Jane parked on the line between two parking spaces. Someone probably shouted at her as she roared around the corner, tires screaming. She'd narrowly avoided causing two accidents and running over countless pedestrians along the way. If she came back in an hour to find her windshield blanketed in tickets, that was fine. She wasn't hurting for cash and some things were just more important.
The receptionist got two words out before Jane stormed past. Something about Mr. Branson being busy and you can't go in there without an appointment. Yeah, screw that. He was about to be busier than he ever could've imagined.
The path was easy to follow. Up one flight of stairs, one left, one right, two doors down on the left. Through a fog of anger, Jane managed to make it the whole way without getting lost or running into anything. There was no one in the halls save for a janitor too busy bopping his head to music to care when she swerved around the 'Wet Floor' sign and almost slipped. Her boots protected her from harm and carried her all the way to the door bearing Kevin Branson's name.
She didn't bother knocking. It was already unlocked. Mr. Branson was at his desk with a messy stack of papers. The red pen in his hand had been liberally used. Entire sections were crossed out. Notes in the margins were an absolute mess of malformed ideas and concepts. On the other side of the desk was a man so average, Jane could've seen twenty of him on the street and never batted an eye. Nothing about him was worth committing to memory, save for the almost bored look he shot at her like irate women interrupting his meetings was just a normal part of his day.
Both men paused. Mr. Branson's mouth closed slowly. Jane had caught the tail end of a sentence about budget issues. He swallowed the rest of his speech, pushing his chair back like he was going to stand. Instead, he stretched awkwardly and gave her an attempted smile.
"Jane," he squeaked. "I'm glad you could make it. We were just talking about-"
Jane snatched the script pages off his desk. "What is this?"
The producer raised an eyebrow. Mr. Branson coughed again. "Well… yes, I know you must have a lot of questions and I'm happy to answer them-"
"So you're combining characters, huh?" She rifled through the pages until she found the right scene. "Jane walks into class and takes a seat in the front row. Professor Erik Selvig enters. He sees Jane and approaches her, smiling. 'We have assigned seats in this class.' He points at the back row." Jane flipped to a new page, dragging her finger along the line of text. "Dr. Selvig is handing out grades. 'Another A, Ms. Foster. I'm glad to see the gentlemen are continuing to help you.'" Another page. "'You need to consider that you're not cut out for a career in this field. It's too strenuous for someone like you.' WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"
As Mr. Branson cowered, the producer calmly folded his arms. "You requested that we emphasize your struggles as a woman in STEM."
"I did not tell you to paste my asshole professor's personality onto my mentor!"
"Professor Falk refused to cooperate with the project as he considered your account of him to be slanderous."
"So instead you slander Erik?" Jane threw the papers to the ground. "That man was like a father to me!"
"His name is more recognizable," Mr. Branson mumbled.
The producer nodded. "Dr. Selvig was a pioneer of astrophysics. I'm sure the audience will understand that we're just taking some artistic license in order to tell your story."
"Oh sure, that's great," Jane snapped. "You're dragging his name through the mud for me, huh? You know, I could've complained a lot more about that romantic subplot if I wanted to."
"You already did," the producer said, checking his nails.
"I let that one slide. I accepted it. I do not accept this. I will never accept you treating Erik like this!"
His fingers thoroughly inspected and his patience waning, the producer stood. Like most men, he was significantly taller than Jane and had no shame in making it known. Standing directly over her, looking down over his nose, he looked so goddamn bored. "Doctor, you understand that Mr. Branson involves you in the creative process as a courtesy. In reality, you do not have final say over what goes into this movie."
"It's my movie."
"It's your story," the producer replied. "The movie is owned by the production company. We will do as we see fit to make sure this film turns a profit. Now, we have worked extensively with you. We've bent over backward to make you happy. It's time for you to bend a little."
"Not on this," Jane said, standing as tall as she could without getting up on tip-toes. "I will take anything but this. A sex scene, a… car chase. Anything."
"I don't see how that would fit in with the narrative," the producer said.
"But I'm sure Loki would be up for it," Jane retorted, fists balled.
"You know, you should consider yourself grateful Mr. Odinson even agreed to do this movie." His phone buzzed and read over the text, his voice trailing off mid-sentence. "Might actually make some money back with him…"
"What are you talking about?" Jane looked at Mr. Branson, but he was too busy reorganizing the script and studying his shoes. She'd never felt more alone.
"What do you think I'm talking about?" the producer asked.
"It sounds like you're saying Loki is the main draw of this movie."
"Yes, Doctor, that's right." He was so blunt, Jane forgot for a moment to be angry. "I don't know if you realize this, but when we produce movies, we're expecting to get something back for it. Passion projects are cute, but if you want to succeed in this business, you need bankable stars. And no one is more bankable right now than Loki Odinson."
Jane stumbled over her words, watching them scatter in the wind like feathers. There was nothing she could do to stop the producer from walking to the door. His phone rang and he answered it, slipping easily into 'business' mode.
"Yeah, I just got out of a meeting. Be right over." As he reached the door, he pulled the phone away from his ear and covered the receiver. "As I said, Dr. Foster, you should be grateful. Have a good evening."
Long after he was gone, Jane was rooted to the spot. Any attempt at moving stung her heart like a needle. That her legs hadn't collapsed out from under her was a minor miracle, as was the lack of tears. She was too angry to cry. Throwing something against the wall would've been more helpful by far. If only she had the strength to grab something.
In front of her was a wall of photos. Mr. Branson posing at various award shows and live events. Shaking hands with the president of the Academy at the afterparty. Even though he failed to win, the mutual respect was obvious. Only a few empty spaces remained. One of them might've held her own photo one day. A place of great honor.
"So…" Mr. Branson said, breaking the silence. "That didn't go well, but…"
There was no 'but'. He wasn't going to finish that sentence and she didn't know why he bothered to start it.
"You can't be okay with this," Jane said, rounding on him. "There's no way you think this is a good idea."
"Of course, I don't," he said. "Trust me, I tried to talk them out of it, but they insisted."
"So you're just going to take this lying down!" Jane exclaimed.
"My hands are tied, Jane. I already told you. Sometimes, you have to follow the-"
"I don't want to hear about rules!" Jane leaned over the desk. "What happened to you, Kevin? You made amazing movies once. You were a great writer. Now, look at you. You follow the rules and what has that gotten you? A cushy office and a picture with Samuel L. Jackson? Is that really worth your dignity?"
"I have dignity," he said. If he wanted to sound forceful, he had failed. In fact, he'd never sounded weaker.
Jane shook her head. "Not from where I'm standing. From here, it looks like you've given up. You want to be their puppet, go right ahead, but unlike you, I don't sit down and take it."
On that word, she left the office. There was nowhere for her to go but back home, where the floodgates would open as soon as her head hit the pillow. She was going to have an even worse headache tomorrow morning than she had today, but there wasn't much she could do about it.
Jane awoke to her phone ringing. The elephant she was riding on Mars started screeching a rough approximation of wind chimes in her face through its trunk. Then her eyes opened and she was back in her hotel.
At least she'd slept in bed this time. She vaguely recalled driving home in a haze of frustration and impotent rage. Everything after that was a blur. Her throat was parched, and she'd have to choke something down soon if she had any hope of functioning today. There was still so much to do. So many meetings with… people. Talk shows and shit.
Fuck, maybe she'd just cancel all of it. Who even cares?
When the phone kept ringing, Jane considered hurling it against the wall. If it wouldn't be such a hassle to get a new one, she might have. Rolling over in bed, Jane threw the pillows and blankets aside. She reached for the phone and hit 'accept' without looking.
"Not now, Darcy, I'm busy," she grumbled.
"Jane?"
That was not Darcy. Not unless she's turned into a British guy recently. "Loki? I… how'd you get my number?"
"Magic, my dear," he replied airily, "and because you called me first. Numbers are logged, you realize. I should be asking you how you got mine."
"Mr. Branson gave it to me. Should he not have?"
"Oh no, that's quite all right," he replied, leisurely, though his tone soon lost all traces of mirth. "I'm calling because I just read the new script."
Seriously, she should throw the phone. "Yeah. I saw it last night."
"Are you all right?"
Of all the fucking questions. "I'm fantastic. My life story has been reduced to a cheap rom-com spitting on the grave of the man who practically raised me. Everything is awesome."
"You don't have to hide from me," he said.
"Who's hiding?" Jane jumped out of bed. "I feel great. Never better. In fact, I was just thinking I should make a career change. I think I'll become a pole dancer. Wouldn't that make for an interesting movie?"
He didn't speak, and much as Jane wanted to believe he was merely laughing to himself at the ridiculous mental image of her gyrating on a pole, she knew it ran deeper than that. Too deep.
"I thought perhaps there was something I could do," he said.
As kindly as he said it, Jane couldn't help the burn of anger. It gutted her, taking yesterday's pain and expanding it tenfold. There were the tears she'd been waiting for. "You've done enough."
"I'm sorry?" he asked, genuinely taken aback.
Jane didn't care. "You're the star, aren't you? The one everyone is waiting to see. They'll probably put your name at the top of the poster. Big, fat letters so everyone knows this is a Loki movie first and everything else plays second fiddle."
"Come now, Jane. My presence in this film is purely superficial. It's secondary to-"
"No, Loki, it's not." Jane was close to yelling, but she couldn't stop now. It might even make her feel better. "It never has been and don't pretend you don't know that. If you ever had even an ounce of respect for me, you won't finish that sentence."
"What have I done to make you think I don't respect you?"
"Nothing," she answered honestly, rubbing her forehead. "You haven't done anything…"
"And yet you're angry with me," he said.
"I'm angry at everyone. The producers, Mr. Branson, and most of all myself."
"But me?"
She wanted so much to be imagining the hurt in his voice. It could be easily faked. He was an actor of tremendous skill accustomed to slipping into character the way the average person put on clothes. It would be easy to trick her. He had to be tricking her.
Because if he wasn't...
"I don't know," Jane said, slumping over. "I need to be alone for a while."
She hung up and the phone fell to the floor. It bounced once off the carpet and came to rest under the nightstand. Jane stared at it until the screen dimmed to black. Then she rolled on her back and counted the number of cracks in the ceiling, sleep a distant dream of the past.
And she was wrong. She didn't feel better at all.
When lying around feeling sorry for herself became too pathetic, Jane went to the coffee shop to feel sorry for herself there. Sipping a half-caff that managed to be bland and bitter at the same time, she tossed aside her newest book after forcing her eyes across two lines. Something about a mystery or a fantastic journey around the world with friendships made and rewards won yadda yadda yadda. Once she noticed the 'soon to be a major motion picture' stamp on the cover, everything else faded into the background.
It was a slow day. More than a few tables had remained vacant since Jane sat down. The mid-afternoon rush was slowly trickling in and Jane did her best not to watch for any long black hair or suits in the gathering crowd.
Jane looked at the menu for the tenth time and considered her empty yet entirely dead stomach. The hangover was long gone and she couldn't use it as an excuse anymore. Going without food would only make a bad situation that much worse. Still, whenever she thought about ordering a sandwich, that lead weight would drop back into her gut and she'd be rooted to the spot without a prayer of moving.
At least she wasn't facing the TV. The last thing she needed right now was some True Hollywood story about this celebrity cheating on that celebrity with that celebrity. The group of girls giggling over their phones three tables over was bad enough. Jane turned away from them, dulling their voices with her own miserable thoughts.
"Why did I say that?" She asked herself, going over the phone conversation yet again. "Am I losing it?"
He'd been trying to help her.
With a problem he helped cause.
Unless he didn't know the studio's intentions when they hired him.
But how could he not? He's not stupid. He's no executive's puppet.
Unless he really meant it when he said her story was important.
She almost knocked over her coffee dropping her head on the table. Keeping it up was taking too much effort. She had never been more exhausted and she probably should've just stayed home.
'Can't run from your problems forever, Jane,' said that stupid inner voice of hers.
She would have to go back to the studio eventually. Argue her case with the producer and Mr. Branson to get things back on track. Then she'd have to talk to Loki again, apologize and see if he really did want to help. If he really had as much clout as the producer said, maybe he could pull some strings. Make Hollywood's dirty business work for her instead of against her.
The cafe was getting louder, interrupting her train of thought. More people had arrived and that same group of girls was still there, giggling away. Jane had to focus extra hard to drown them out, but a few choice words still leaked through.
"...there in the blue t-shirt. Doesn't that look like her?"
"That one?"
"Holy crap, it does!"
Jane looked up. Six pairs of eyes were on her. All of them immediately dropped when she moved her head, but the giggling hadn't stopped.
"No way that's her."
"She's so not pretty enough for him."
"What would she even be doing here? If I had a guy like Loki, I'd never even get out of bed."
As they spoke, Jane's heart frosted over. Loki's name froze it completely. She turned away, trying her best to look casual. A hand went into her hair because that was the casual thing to do. Nothing to see here. Move along now. Their voices didn't change so she was pretty sure they hadn't noticed.
The waitress walking by with a tray full of sandwiches, however, did. She ran into a chair, causing the plates to side to the edge. As she struggled to right the mess, her eyes never strayed from Jane. She openly gawked until some kind of light went off in her head and she stumbled forward.
Whatever she did after that, Jane didn't know. She was too busy avoiding the stares of a pair of middle-aged women.
"They just come out in public like it's nothing?" One of them said.
"No shame," the second woman shook her head. "No shame at all."
Okay, what the hell was going on? Jane was ready to scream it to the heavens and give everyone in this cafe something to gawk at. She turned away from the women, her eyes landing on the mounted TV. The news was running a story about yet another celebrity couple. Jane read the banner and lost her breath.
'New Love for Loki?'
There they were, in all their drunken, amateurishly filmed glory. Jane was a mess in drab clothes unsuitable for partying. Clinging to Loki like a life raft. Sticking her hands up his shirt like a horny schoolgirl.
But she'd seen it, hadn't she? There was a man on his phone. She hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but now…
Whispers rose over the ambiance. The weight of so many eyes paralyzed her. Maybe she was dreaming. They couldn't all recognize her, could they? She thought she heard her name and jumped. More whispers. Swallowing hard, Jane dropped a few random bills on the table and power-walked to the door.
An entire table of kids was watching her. One of them pointed. Another had their stupid phone out. Jane turned away, hiding her face behind her collar. As she got closer, she could make out the voices on TV.
'...as you can see, the woman is clearly Dr. Jane Foster, renowned astrophysicist and subject of the upcoming biopic, Bridgemaker. Loki has been cast in a starring role and it looks like things are getting heated on set.'
"Shut up," Jane hissed into her shirt. "Shut up. Shut up. It's not like that."
She tripped over the carpet but managed to stay upright. The hostess spoke, but Jane shot past. She couldn't stop here. She couldn't stop at all. She had to get back to her hotel before anyone else saw her.
There was no bus stop. She'd chosen to walk today like an idiot and getting a cab would be too slow. There were people everywhere. The street was clogged with background extras. Jane started down the street, doing her best to look casual. If she could just blend in, she'd be okay. She wasn't dressed for more than a morning run, wore no makeup, and her hair left a lot to be desired. There wasn't a glamorous bone in her body so it should be easy to fly under the radar.
It wasn't like this was huge news, right?
A child holding hands with her mother pointed at Jane. "Mommy, she was on TV!"
Jane sped up. Someone gasped and she ran a few steps. She stopped at the curb and burned a hole in the 'Don't Walk' sign. A woman was reading a magazine with a still of her and Loki's dance plastered on the cover. She glanced over the page and their eyes met. Jane turned left and kept walking.
It was everywhere. Every restaurant and bar had the exact same channel playing. The faster she moved, the more screens and magazines and people glued to their phones she seemed to find. The sidewalk swayed and Jane didn't know if it was just her or if she was about to pitch forward.
Where was her hotel again? She didn't even know what direction she was going. Everyone was staring. Voices carried. A few of them called out to her. A series of clicks made her stop as a man with a camera sprung into view.
"Dr. Foster, right here!" He kept taking pictures even after she pushed past him. "Is it true you slept together?"
"Holy crap, that is her," someone in the crowd said.
Questions spilled over her. The crowd was getting dense, the stares suffocating. More photos were taken. They kept calling her name. She had to get out of here. She had to get off the street. She had to-
A vice grip on her arm pulled her off the pavement into a back alley. Jane was carried behind a dumpster, through a side door, and into a pitch-black room. She'd seen enough bad TV movies to know exactly how this could go. Too bad pepper spray was illegal in Canada.
"Gotten ourselves into trouble, have we?"
The voice didn't calm her. Not when he held her like this and she couldn't see her hand in front of her face. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Rescuing you." A light turned on. They were in an old pantry full of bagged potatoes and vegetables. Loki's face looked jaundiced under the weak yellow light. He let go of Jane only to shut and bolt the door. A large crate finished the job. "We'll wait here for them to leave. It shouldn't be long once they realize the show is over."
"How'd you find me?" Jane asked, eyes narrowing.
"Did I follow you, you mean?" He smiled. "As entertaining as I'm sure that would be, I do have a life outside of you. I happened to be walking by and I spotted you facing the mob. Not fun, is it?"
"If this is what you deal with every day, you might want to switch jobs." Jane straightened her clothes and her hair as best she could. It gave her hands something to do other than slap him. "I don't believe this. One stupid dance and suddenly we're headline news?"
"More like page three of the Sunday Times, but yes. That tends to happen when famously single celebrities are caught up in romantic entanglements."
'How can you be so damn calm about this?' Jane wanted to scream. She didn't only because there was enough bad blood between them. No need to poison the well again.
"So what do we do now?" She walked to the opposite wall and back. "Wait for things to blow over? It can't take that long, can it? This is celebrity gossip we're talking about. Tomorrow, there'll be some big new story and no one will even remember this."
"Oh, I very much doubt that. Entertainment Weekly hasn't even commented yet. We're in for at least another few days. Possibly a week."
"Thanks, Loki. I'm glad I know that now." Jane fell back, knocking a can off the bottom shelf. It rolled at her feet and she kicked it aside. "I take it you've done this before."
"Several times," he replied, checking his phone. "I normally try to choose a more comfortable hiding spot, but time was of the essence. I was forced to improvise… ah, here we are. Right on the front page. Quite a flattering photo of you they chose. I approve."
As he skimmed the article, chuckling to himself at random intervals, Jane summoned whatever strength she had left to walk up to him. "Loki, do you understand what's happening here?"
"You ask that as if to imply that I don't."
"The world thinks we're a couple." Jane threw out her arms. "I'm practically groping you in the middle of a dance club and it's all over the fucking news! Why are you acting like this is nothing?"
"Because it is nothing." Loki returned to his phone, typing out a text or sending an email because there was absolutely no way possible to get under his skin. "Did you not just say yourself that it will blow over?"
"You said it wouldn't!"
"I said it would take time." He finally deigned to look her in the eye. "Even the most sensationalized story in history became old news eventually. There's always something new to report. Some new leads to follow. When they find them, you can return to your normal life in the lab and I can return to mine in the studio."
"Is that your whole life? The studio?"
"Now you're changing the subject."
"Well, it looks like we're going to be here a while, so we'd better find something to talk about." After walking in circles and making herself dizzy, Jane found an empty crate in the corner and dragged it over. It was just sturdy enough to sit on. "How long are you going to keep texting?"
He had the nerve to look affronted. "I don't believe that's any of your business."
"We're having a conversation, and last I checked it was rude to look at your phone during a conversation."
She maintained eye contact with him, refusing to budge an inch. The screen shut off and he didn't turn it back on. As Jane continued to stare, it went back into his pocket. He found his own crate and curled his long legs up in as comfortable a manner as he could manage.
"All right," he said. "What would you like to talk about?"
Finally. Now they could get down to business.
Except… Jane didn't know what to say.
There should've been a million thoughts in her head ready to flood the room. He was right there in front of her. No distractions, no paparazzi, not even a rat. Everything they said was between them and the potatoes, and yet Jane's mind was blank.
She opened her mouth to let something out. "Was that your brother?"
Loki's face didn't change. "Was whom my brother?"
"The one you were texting."
He chuckled. "Still on this. Here I thought your main concern was your botched reputation."
"Well, as you've made abundantly clear, there's not much I can do about that." She ignored the shiver running down her spine at the thought of what Darcy would say. "So who was it?"
"It's still not your business," he said, crossing his arms and pursing his lips and giving every indication of being closed off. "But if you must know, it was my agent. He wants me to call him as soon as I read his text."
"Are you going to?"
"I would, but we're in the middle of a conversation. That would be rude."
That stupid smile. She should've known it wasn't an act. Maybe she was finally meeting the real Loki Odinson. The question now was how far should she push it? "I want to play a game."
Loki stared at her. "A game."
"Our game."
New light dawned in his eyes and his smile turned catlike. "Here I thought we were finished with that."
"So did I," Jane said. "This day is just full of surprises, isn't it?"
Loki leaned back, arms crossed. "I take it you want to go first."
There was no hint of challenge in his tone, but Jane was on edge nonetheless. "Why do you want to make your father mad?"
She waited for him to react. A frown, an angry rebuff, even a twitch of the lip, but his expression never changed. "Come again?"
"You studied astrophysics to make him mad and you became an actor to make him mad. Why?"
Even now, there was nothing. Not even when his eyes briefly strayed to his pocket where the phone just barely stuck out over the rim. It had been silent and motionless since Loki put it away. Jane kept her eyes on him, giving him no room to escape. She tried to look stern but that damn racing heart was getting to her.
"You just won't drop that, will you?" If possible, he became even more relaxed. "What is your hypothesis this time?"
"You haven't answered me yet," Jane said.
"So it would seem," Loki replied, grinding his teeth. "I suppose it's because my father is a humorless old coot who needed the rug swept out from under him. Believe me, it was long overdue."
"Care to elaborate?"
"I would care to reprimand you for asking two questions in a row," Loki grinned as Jane's eyes burned. "But now that you mention it, Odin has always been extremely set in his ways. He is a traditional, old-fashioned man who believes a man can only reach his full potential by starting his own empire."
"Like a business empire?"
"Exactly like that." Loki stretched his neck. "Which makes it all the more ironic that he gave the company he built to Thor instead of letting him create something for himself. That task fell to me, but I decided I'd rather take a different route."
"I'm guessing he didn't like that."
"He was unimpressed."
Jane nodded, more out of impulse than true understanding. "So now… what? You just don't talk to him?"
"I do," he said, almost defensively. "We see each other on holidays and sometimes he joins me and my mother for tea. He is disinclined to blow up my phone with messages as Thor does, so I understand how you might get confused."
"Holidays and tea," Jane muttered, eyes downcast.
"Does this bother you?" Loki asked.
"Just seems… formal," she said. "I mean, I don't know your family. Maybe this is completely normal for you, but Thor at least wants more. Even if you don't want to be his child's godfather, you'll still be his uncle."
"In a manner of speaking," Loki muttered.
"In every way that matters."
It was the first time all day his facade cracked. A clench of his fist was the only evidence, but it was enough for Jane. She hadn't realized it before now, but he was becoming easier to read.
He sighed. "So you do watch movies. Too much of the Hallmark variety."
"I'm just saying, I think you care about them more than you let on. You don't even delete Thor's texts, do you?"
"I don't like to waste time," he answered. Jane took that as a no.
"Well, have you ever answered him?"
"When the mood strikes me."
"And when did that last happen?"
He didn't say anything.
After letting the moment pass, Jane didn't know if she should continue down this line or change the subject. The latter would be safer, but more questions poked at her. They were becoming impossible to ignore. So she didn't ignore them.
"Was it really all because of your father?"
"The acting or the astrophysics?"
"Both," Jane rested her hands on her knees, gripping them tight. "Astrophysics is one of the hardest degree programs out there. Getting my Ph.D. was three years of instant ramen noodles and four hours of sleep per night if I was lucky. Becoming a successful actor is even harder. You're telling me you did all of that just to piss off your dad."
"It wasn't the only reason," Loki snapped. "And I told you, spite is a powerful motivator."
"It wasn't my motivator," Jane replied, sitting up straighter. "When I became an astrophysicist, it was because I love the stars. They're a part of who I am. So I guess I don't believe you'd go to all that trouble just to hurt someone. I can't believe that."
"It is easier to comprehend than you give credit for."
"Maybe," Jane said, "but when you say you respect my work, and Erik's work, and that you agreed to do this movie because you believe my story should be told, I believe you're telling the truth."
His gaze was so intense, even now in this dirt-stained pantry surrounded by food. Big band music filtered from the restaurant and cars whizzed past outside the door. Nothing about it screamed 'dramatic apology' scene as far as Jane could tell, but real life tends to write itself, and it doesn't care about cliches.
"I'm sorry for what I said before." Jane met him with an intensity all her own. "I was angry and I took it out on you. That wasn't fair."
"It's understandable," he said.
"No, it's not. You didn't change the script."
Loki hummed, uncrossing his legs. "My offer still stands. There may be something I can do to fix this."
"I doubt it," Jane mumbled. "I already tried, but that producer is so far up his own ass he's about to come out the other way."
Loki laughed out loud, albeit softly. "That wasn't bad. We may make a screenwriter out of you yet."
"Not fast enough to save this movie."
As she spoke, she hoped she didn't sound too bitter. She'd already put her foot in her mouth enough times today and she couldn't shake the feeling he was more upset than he was letting on.
Time passed and Loki's phone came back to life with several text alerts. He didn't answer them, but stood from the crate and walked to the door. "I think it's safe now. You should return to your hotel."
"I need to talk to the producer again tomorrow," Jane said. It was one meeting she would give anything to cancel. As she moved to pass Loki, she stopped short at the exact wrong time. Now her face was full of his shirt and whatever ridiculously expensive and sinfully addictive cologne he'd chosen to wear. She gulped. "Do you really think you can fix this?"
Something danced across his face, all the mysteries Jane had spent far too much time pondering there and gone in an instant. "I will see you at the meeting."
Then he was gone. He stayed just long enough to hold the door open for her and didn't say goodbye as he strolled down the sidewalk. Jane thought about following him. He'd crossed the street in front of a sports bar blaring their names to the tipsy patrons. Slouching down with his neck bent, he blended into the masses, not a powerful celebrity but an average joe not worth a second look.
She could almost hate him for making it look so easy.
Jane stared straight ahead with her hands in her lap and her shoulders back. She hadn't looked at her phone, the clock, or anyone's faces since sitting down in the meeting room. Bodies crowded the space, executives and assistants alike. They talked amongst themselves and their voices were white noise to her.
At least this chair was comfy. All plush with a high back that only squeaked a tiny bit when she leaned back. She glanced at her coffee, untouched since she bought it this morning and cold as ice. Around the table, everyone was on the phone or their tablets. Mr. Branson wrote a few notes in his copy of the script and had refused to look at Jane since she walked in. Bethany Shortman was showing another woman pictures of her kids. The producer was on the phone at the head of the table. Probably planning his next outing to go kick some puppies and take candy from babies.
No one was staring at her. They either didn't know about her wild love affair or they didn't care. Jane didn't care which so long as no one took any pictures.
A little after one, the producer ended the call and brought everyone to attention. "Good afternoon, thank you all for coming. As you know, we're here to discuss changes to the script and also some delays in filming we've been having recently."
'Wonder who's causing those,' Jane thought with a completely straight face.
The producer didn't even look at her. "Well, since Mr. Odinson has yet to arrive, let's begin. Pierre, where are we with securing a location for the observatory scenes?"
As the assistant director prattled on and the producer asked more stupid questions, Jane did her best to listen and not raise her voice over them. The time to speak her mind would come, if not during this meeting then tomorrow on set. Hell, she could go wildly off-topic during her next interview and read the producer the riot act if she really felt like tanking her image. Hell, maybe she'd grab Loki and they could make out on camera.
The topic turned to issues with the caterers. That was when the door opened and Loki stepped inside.
"Ah, nice of you to finally join us," the producer said with slightly more respect in his dry tone than usual.
Loki, cleaned up from yesterday in a fresh suit with his hair tied back, nodded at the producer. "Forgive my tardiness, I had a prior engagement."
"Well, it's good to know where your priorities lie," said the producer. "Now, if you'd like to take a seat-"
"Actually, there was something I wished to say."
He glanced at Jane, who smiled gratefully. He didn't smile back. She had a funny feeling about this.
"Can't it wait?" the producer asked. "This is important."
"I'm afraid it can't. It concerns all of you." He turned to face the gathered crew, commanding their attention like the producer was nothing but air. "First I'd like to thank you all for making this a wonderful experience. I have never enjoyed working on a film so much. You are all incredible."
"That's very sweet," the producer said, checking his watch, "if that's all, I'd really like to finish up. I have another meeting at two."
"That is not all," Loki said, his voice hardening. "For you see, it has come to my attention that certain changes have been made. Changes that may be detrimental to the production as a whole.
The producer rolled his eyes. Mr. Branson stared at his lap. Loki continued.
"It seems to me that the problem started when my character was added to the script. Perhaps it was a snowball effect. One small change led to countless larger ones, until the story we meant to tell morphed into something unrecognizable." Loki lifted his chin, looking over their heads. "I believe in Bridgermaker. I know Dr. Foster's story will make an unforgettable film, but for that to happen, more changes need to be made. Or rather, need to be reversed. That is why, effective immediately, I am officially withdrawing from this project."