Home

Once I’d submitted my After Midnight script revisions to Olivia, I locked myself in my bedroom with a pint of chocolate ice cream and a warm cup of tea. Orlando’s rejection haunted me, and I couldn’t even face my own apartment now. I needed to be alone, without even Sherman for company, to binge on food that was bad for me and thoughts that were worse.

I’m not sure how long I wallowed, staring mindlessly at the TV, with the sound off, ignoring the phone and Sherman’s pathetic whimpering outside the door, not even noticing that the ice cream had turned into a chocolate puddle in the carton. Orlando’s voice at the end of our call spun through my mind, and I played it over and over again, the vulnerability, the trust, the warmth, followed by the awkwardness and distance that had come so quickly.

I tried getting angry with myself for letting a stranger affect me this way, for caring what some stupid actor thought of me, for even getting into such a personal conversation with him in the first place, but it didn’t work. The idea that he’d inspired such a depression in me confused me more than angered me, and that didn’t help at all.

It was dark outside when I finally felt the urge to use the bathroom. I dragged myself out of bed and padded out of my room, flinching as the phone began to ring for the millionth time that day. A quick glance at the clock told me it was almost two o’clock in the morning, meaning I’d been in my room for almost twelve hours. My body responded with a stiff achy feeling, as if to confirm the time.

The phone was still ringing when I came out of the bathroom, not quite as uncomfortable as before I’d gone in, but still fairly stiff. I sighed, seeing no hope for it, and went into the living room to answer the annoying sound.

“Peyton, where the hell have you been?” Olivia’s hysterical voice shrilled as soon as I’d picked up. “I’ve been calling you all fucking day.”

“I needed some time to myself,” I said, not bothering to hide the fact that I didn’t care what she had to say.

“Well, while you’ve been taking your personal time, your movie is falling apart,” ‘Liv said, fighting to keep her voice steady. She knew yelling at me and getting in my face was the easiest way to find herself talking to the dial tone.

“What do you mean?” I asked, now that she’d managed to catch my attention. “Did my revisions not go over well?”

“No, that’s not it at all,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Orlando Bloom backed out of the project this afternoon, and the studio’s up in arms about it. They’ve been banking on him for ticket sales, and they’ve already leaked that he’d be in the movie. Marcus is ready to throttle someone, because he can’t even get through to Bloom himself, and the guy’s agent is stonewalling the studio at every turn.” She sounded close to tears, and I almost felt sorry for her.

I also felt incredibly guilty. I knew this had something to do with our conversation today, and I knew it was my fault. I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d done, but the tone of his voice at the end of our conversation told me there was no other reason he’d backed out. Despite myself and my feelings toward the situation, I didn’t want the movie to suffer because of my stupidity.

“What can I do to help?” I whispered, rubbing my hand over my eyes to stop the tears that pooled there.

“Are you serious?” Olivia sounded as though I’d just told her the sky outside my window had big purple polka dots in it, instead of stars. It wasn’t very often that I offered to be helpful, so I understood her reaction.

“Of course I’m serious,” I snapped, trying to sound a little more like my own sarcastic self. I didn’t need her wondering if I was sick or something.

“Well, you could always call him,” ‘Liv suggested tentatively.

“Marcus?”

“Orlando.”

“Oh.” I hesitated, knowing that if I refused, she’d ask me a million questions that I didn’t want to answer, but knowing that if I did call him, it could get even worse. I was probably the last person he wanted to talk to.

“He’s always responded really well to you,” Olivia rushed on, trying to convince me. “You’re not part of the studio brass, you can talk to him on a creative level, artist to artist, or some shit like that.”

“What makes you think he’ll talk to me?” I said, my fingers straying to the scars on my neck as my nerves caused my stomach to clench wildly.

“Marcus suggested it,” she said quickly, as though to pass the blame. “He said Orlando said really good things about you, and that he was eager to work through the script with you. He thinks there’s a rapport between you that could work to our advantage.”

“Can’t they just cast someone else?” A lump was forming in my throat and it was getting harder to sound normal.

“They’ve already put so much money into getting Bloom involved,” Olivia said, though it kind of sounded like she was thinking the same thing. “He’s very bankable, and they’ve pulled out all the stops for him. Marcus wants to exhaust every avenue before they consider re-casting.”

I swallowed quickly and sighed. “Okay,” I conceded, seeing no other hope for it. I’d started this mess, I may as well finish it. I knew if it got out that I had anything to do with him quitting, I could kiss any further movie adaptations of my book good-bye.

“Can you call him now?”

“Olivia, it’s two in the morning,” I said, grasping for any excuse to postpone the inevitable. “I’m sure this can wait until tomorrow.”

“No, it really can’t,” she said. “I have to call Marcus tonight and tell him what’s going on. It’s still daytime there, remember?”

“Fine,” I said. “But if I call and piss him off by waking him up, I highly doubt that will improve our chances.”

“Try it anyway,” she said, with more aggression than she usually showed. That told me that Marcus was leaning pretty heavily on her, which meant there was a chance the whole movie could fall apart. No pressure there.

“I’ll call you back,” I said and hung up.

It took me a few minutes to work up the courage to actually dial the number. I couldn’t believe it had come to this, that he’d actually pulled out of the movie because of one stupid conversation. I’d given him more professional credit than that, and the idea that he was jeopardizing my first movie pissed me off. The adrenaline from that anger was just what I needed, because it forced me to forget his rejection and concentrate on his inconsiderate decision. I dialed his number.

“Yeah?” he answered on the fourth ring, but he didn’t sound like he’d been sleeping. He sounded quite irritated, but that only served to fuel my anger.

“Orlando, it’s Dominique,” I said, using my best no-nonsense voice. I ignored the shivers that rushed down my spine at the sound of his voice; they just weren’t what I needed right then.

“I’m kind of busy right now,” he said, almost rudely. He really didn’t want to talk to me, but I wasn’t going to give him a choice.

“Good for you,” I snapped. “Listen, I just want to know why you backed out of my movie today. Once you answer that question, you can go back to your pathetic life and your girlfriend who doesn’t give a shit, okay?” It was below the belt, I knew it, but it let him know that I wasn’t messing around.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he said, his own anger coming to the surface. I knew he wasn’t used to people talking to him like that, but I didn’t care.

“When you’re fucking up my movie and my chance at forging a relationship with a big studio, you most certainly do.” I paused and softened my tone a bit. “I think you owe me at least that much.”

He caught on immediately, I could hear his quick intake of breath, but it took him a few seconds to say anything. When he did, he sounded on the verge of tears, the anger gone.

“I just don’t think it’s a project I should be doing right now,” he said, but it was such a weak excuse he knew I didn’t buy it.

“Try again,” I said, still harsh, but not as nasty as I thought I’d be.

“Okay, look,” he started, taking a deep breath. “I know you don’t understand what happened today on the phone, and I really can’t explain it, but I can tell you I’m just not comfortable working with you anymore.”

I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but to hear my worst suspicions spoken so plainly made me squeeze my eyes shut to keep control.

“Do you want to tell me what exactly it was that I did?” I said when I could do so without my voice cracking or shaking. I looked down at my lap and noticed that my hand was turning white from gripping my pant leg so hard. There were nail marks on my palm when I let go.

“That’s the problem,” Orlando said, breaking through my fog. “I’m not sure exactly what happened, but it wasn’t good.”

“We were just talking,” I pointed out. “If you’re worried about what your girlfriend will think – “

“That’s not it,” he cut me off quickly. “I just think maybe I said too much.” It was like the words pained him.

“So you’re quitting a great project because you opened up to me?” The sting of rejection stabbed through me again, hot and sharp, just like the first time.

“Dominique, I’m not used to talking so freely to a total stranger,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I have to be so careful when I open my mouth, I never know who I can trust.”

“I understand that,” I said slowly. “But I told you I’d never use what you said in my work.”

“That’s not the problem,” he said. “I’m just afraid if I keep having to work with you, I’ll say more, and you might not like some of it.”

“That makes absolutely no sense,” I said, exasperated. “You’re grasping at straws now, and if you’re not going to tell me the truth, this conversation is finished.” Nerves weren’t rolling in my stomach now, just pure anger again. I hated it when people weren’t straight with me, and he was clearly not being so now.

“Do you want me to tell you that I feel the unexplainable urge to just keep talking to you?” he snapped, his own exasperation spilling over. “That I feel comfortable as soon as I hear your voice, that it pisses me off that I can’t meet you in person?”

“We’ve only had a few phone calls,” I said, surprised at his honesty. I didn’t admit that he had an affect on me, too. I couldn’t open myself up like that after knowing how much his earlier rejection had hurt.

“I know, that’s the part I don’t understand myself,” he said. Then he caught me off-guard. “Can I at least meet you face-to-face?”

I hesitated, on the verge of saying yes, but then self-preservation kicked in and I balked at the very idea. “That’s not something I can agree to,” I said carefully.

“Why not?”

“I’m really busy with my new book,” I lied, knowing I hadn’t touched it all day. I couldn’t exactly come right out and tell him why I hid myself from the world, especially from beautiful people like him.

“We’re in the same city,” he pointed out, almost pleading. “It wouldn’t take more than an hour.”

“I can’t,” I said, more firmly this time. “I just don’t have time.”

“How is meeting me somewhere any different from taking time out of your day to talk to me on the phone?” he pressed. He wasn’t going to give up on this easily.

“It just is,” I snapped, probably more harshly than I’d intended. He was quickly wearing away my resolve, and I had to hang on to the hurt I’d felt earlier to be able to keep saying no.

“If you won’t even meet me, why should I stay signed to this film?”

I didn’t know what to say for a few seconds. He had a point.

“Because this movie is good, you said so yourself,” I said, now grasping at straws myself, and hoping like hell they sounded convincing. “It’ll be a huge hit, and a feather in your cap, right?”

“I suppose,” he agreed, though he sounded like he wanted to argue with me.

“Why do you even want to meet me?” I couldn’t help but ask. My own insecurities were flooding through me, and I felt a need to know why someone like him even cared enough that I existed to have this conversation.

“I told you earlier,” he said quietly. “I’m comfortable talking to you, it’s easy to talk about real things with you.”

“I see,” I said, though I really didn’t. “You can still call me whenever you want, though, so I don’t see why meeting me in person is such an issue.” I knew even that one small allowance would come back to bite me in the ass.

“I don’t like talking on the phone,” he said, and if I’d had to guess, I’d have said he just shrugged, based on the new nonchalance in his voice. “It’s too impersonal, I guess.”

“Not really,” I said, but I knew what he meant. That was exactly the reason I preferred the phone to human contact.

“I like to be able to look someone in the eyes when I talk to them,” he continued, ignoring my refusal. “And it’s probably really corny and stupid to say, but I have a feeling I’d find wonderful things in your eyes.”

I know I blushed because I felt the heat spread up my neck and over my cheeks. If only he knew, I thought, fighting every urge to tell him where I lived right then and there. Even before my accident men had never been very nice to me, considering me plain and uninteresting. To hear someone as beautiful as Orlando Bloom saying something so complimentary to me was beyond unbelievable. I vaguely wondered if I was still in my room, passed out on my bed, and this whole thing was some twisted dream my subconscious was offering up.

“You’re right,” I said finally. “That was really corny and stupid.”

To my surprise, he chuckled, clearly confident enough in himself that my insult just rolled right off him. The whole tone of the conversation was changing, but in a good way this time, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to.

“See, I wouldn’t have the guts to say something to dumb to your face, you know,” he pointed out, his voice dripping with charm. He was trying to get what he wanted the good old fashioned way: charming it out of me. I steeled myself, even though a smile crept up around the corners of my mouth and my muscles relaxed from the tension of earlier in the day.

“What would we even talk about?” I wondered out loud, more to myself than to him. “We’re totally different people.”

“That’s what makes this interesting,” he said, his enthusiasm almost catching. “I know a lot of people, but there aren’t very many that I’d want to spend hours at a time just talking to.”

“I suppose,” I conceded, having no idea if he was telling the truth or not. “But like I said, we can use the phone for that. I don’t want to meet you.”

My words must have caught him by surprise because he went quiet for a minute.

“Orlando, I don’t want to push you, but I really need to know if you’ll come back to the movie,” I said when the silence had stretched on for too long. “It’s the middle of the night, I’m sure we’d both like some sleep. So what do I tell Marcus?”

His voice was so quiet, I barely heard him.

“Tell him I said yes.”