Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing and reading so far! I truly appreciate it. ^_^

Disclaimer: I do not own any Sailor Moon characters

Chapter 2: Meeting 1, Meeting 2, Meeting 3

Darien kicked his feet up on the short coffee table at his agent's office as he flipped through his next script that he was thinking of taking on. It was an indie-romance that was bound to be a box-office smash and if played right, he could get a Golden Globe nod. He winced at the thought of it and his agent caught sight of the expression.

"What's wrong with it?" Cooper asked, his thick, silver and white hair making him look even more attractive than when he had black hair at one time. His perfectly bleached smile laid over his lips as he asked, "Are you thinking of who you're going to work with? I told you we wouldn't hire any girl until you were on board."

"I'm just tired of these films," he shrugged as he tossed the thickly bound script onto the wooden table.

The agent across the room removed his glasses from his eyes and stopped reviewing over the documents in hand, "You're tired of these films? Well we could just have you do the television show for all eternity. You can end up like the actors from Friends and be only known for that."

"It's just …"

"What? What is it?"

"I ran into Serena Roddenberg last night," he announced, looking down at his hands that had just been freshly manicured an hour before arriving at the agency.

"I saw that in this morning's Page Six."

"Why can't I get into a film with the Roddenbergs attached? They are amazing."

"And they're exclusive," he replied. "It took Leo six times before he could even make a cameo in that detective film."

"Yeah and then he stared in that major bio-flick with them that caught him an Oscar nomination."

"You know Scorsese has been begging to work with you for a year now. Why not do something with him?"

"He's turning into box-office, not award worthy."

"Geez, someone's cynical."

Cooper stood up and walked around his desk so he could lean against the edge of it. He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side, studying his client. He had represented the little runt since his first commercial at age thirteen. Now he was this big hot shot who believed he deserved everything at his feet or on a silver platter. It wasn't like he had been born into this kind of lifestyle; he had worked for it. Cooper watched him earn every cent he was spending and then some. The kid had talent … raw, unmistakable, amazing talent. But his ego got in the way of a lot of things. Sometimes his manager, his agent, and the posse he worked with were able to mold it so that to prospective buyers, it looked more like unyielding confidence rather than arrogance. It was a difficult task to pull in the reigns, but someone had to do it.

"How do you suggest you get a film with the Roddenbergs?" Cooper asked curiously. "Because I've worked my ass off trying to get a meeting with them for you."

"Really?" Darien replied, his interest now peaked.

"Yes … and they …"

"And they what?"

"They don't like you," he answered, his voice slightly sheepish.

"They don't like me?" he repeated with a surprised expression over his face.

Cooper couldn't help but smirk a little bit at the visage that had washed over his client's face, "You heard right."

"What did I do?" he asked.

"What didn't you do?" he responded as he walked over to his mini bar, pouring himself a generous drink of seltzer and gin. "You're constantly gallivanting around with women, you are at every party scene known to man, and you can't keep your sound bites off of television. I'm really surprised people still want to hire you. You're a liability."

"But I bring press to every film I do based on these escapades which in turn brings money!" he argued. "I've been known to have a long-term relationship, I can mellow out if I want, and I haven't smashed a camera since I was a teenager. And by the way, I replaced that camera! Paid for it in full from my own pocket."

"I know, but not everyone sees you as I do. A lot of people only see the pictures plastered on magazines or the blogs that are written about you. Your twitter account is used as supportive evidence on E! News when they want to confirm what you're up to," he explained. "You've become a huge image for this generation and you're followers are constantly up to date with your every move. Be a bit more tactful. The Roddenbergs pride themselves on privacy."

Darien nodded in agreement, "I mean, I did see Serena walk away with only one or two cameramen trailing her and even then they left her side when we started to drive off. She doesn't get photographed that much, does she?"

"No she doesn't and it's because her parents taught her the beautiful art of limelight discretion," he replied as he sipped on his drink. "It's a hard thing to accomplish, but one can do it."

"I've built my celebrity around being famous and infamous. I can't just remove the paparazzi away from me. They've latched on like an unwanted limb."

"Then find a way to turn it into something positive."

Darien left the meeting ten minutes later without anything accomplished and a fresh alcoholic beverage downed straight into his belly. He popped a piece of gum in his mouth as he entered the elevator. He, like the rest of the sardines in that tin can, stared at the glowing numbers as they ticked down to the ground floor. It stopped midway and let on a familiar face; Serena Roddenberg.

This was just the girl he wanted to speak to.

She glared at him over her shoulder as she took her spot in front of him in the crowded elevator. He leaned over a bit, invading her space, just trying to see how close he could get to her. She glanced at him a few times before sighing out loud, breaking the awkward silence.

"What do you want?" she asked with an annoyed tone in her voice.

"I was just talking about you with my agent," he answered, his body only centimeters away from her. Serena didn't press him to continue on with the conversation and instead kept her eyes glued to the glowing red numbers that didn't move fast enough for her. "We had very nice things to say about you."

"I don't care."

"You don't?"

"No."

He paused for a moment and then asked, "What are you doing here?"

"My parents have an office here."

"That's right! Your parents own their own film studio, don't they?"

"Ugh."

She pressed the open button and was promptly dropped off at the closest floor which happened to be six levels away from the street. She breezed out of the elevator, feeling Darien clack after her as she made her way to the steps. The two bounded down the cement and metal staircase, passing by a few people, mainly interns, on their way up to certain floors. By the third landing, she spun around and pushed him against the hard wall with aggravation.

"Would you stop following me?!" she exclaimed. Her nose curled up at the smell of his breath and she said, "You reek of alcohol."

"I do?"

"Yes!"

"Dammit! I thought this gum would help me. I don't want to smell like booze," he complained as he leaned against the wall on his own accord.

"It wouldn't be the first time the stuff turned into cologne for you after downing a few," she commented.

"So you don't want me to be around you, yet you're going to stand there and insult me?" he asked.

She immediately looked taken aback by the remark and rubbed her upper arm, "I'm sorry."

After a short pause, he asked her, "Why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't even know you."

"Exactly. So you can't dislike me."

"And I can't like you," she retorted. "You're everything I hate about Hollywood."

"Wow … that's … erm … okay…"

"Listen, I have to go," Serena declared awkwardly as she started to walk down the second to last flight of steps. Before Darien could make another move, she protested, "Don't follow me, please. I've gotten enough flack from your swift moves last night. I don't need anymore unwanted press."

He watched her leave the stairwell as he continued to lean up against the cement wall like he was a James Dean wannabe from "Rebel without a Cause". He shoved his hands into his pockets before walking back up another set of sets to the third floor. Darien ambled through the office area that was used for some sort of health magazine. Before he could make it to the elevator though, he was stopped suddenly by a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned around to find a flighty, short brunette girl with light blue eyes and a beautiful porcelain skin. Her cheeks were blushing a little bit as she gazed up at him.

"Hi," she smiled. "My name is Lenora. Um … you're Darien Shields, right?"

"Yes, I am," he grinned with a toss of his hair out of his eyes. "Do you work here?"

"Yes, I do! And I was wondering if you would be kind as to … well … this is really out of the ordinary, but would you do me the honor of doing an article?" she asked. "I'm a junior editor here and getting a story from you would make my career!"

He couldn't help but laugh a little bit at her enthusiasm; it was endearing.

"I'd be honored," he smiled. He leaned toward her, his eyes studying her perfectly freckled face and deep pink lips. "Considering this is a health magazine, would I need to expose my dietary secrets?"

"I believe so," she nodded.

"Well, as long as it helps other people," he shrugged. "Call my people and we can set something up."

"Great!" she beamed.

The two shook hands and parted ways, each looking over their shoulder at the other. He entered the elevator with a broad smirk wafting over his features as he thought about how cute that girl was. Her wavy chestnut hair was beautiful and her eyes were captivating. Maybe he should take a different route to get to Serena…through a different woman.

Please review! Thank you! ^_^