~*~
“Well it’s about time,” Renee scolded when Amy stepped in the front door. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten mugged or something.”
“Serves you right for doing what you did.” Amy turned from the door with an ‘I’m not talking to you anymore’ look as she made her way for her bedroom.
“Doing what? Telling the truth?” Renee asked, hands on hips.
“Repeating gossip,” Amy chided. She closed the bedroom door behind her.
“Oh brother.” Renee sat back on the couch and picked up her magazine – they didn’t have a TV – to search through for the interesting tidbits she loved to read. “Gossip is based on facts, Aims. Deal with it.”
Amy emerged a few minutes later in her flannel loungers and same sweatshirt, novel in hand. “Sorry, no deal. Everyone deserves a second chance to be who they are without gory details being embellished just so that a person bored with their own life can have a bit of excitement.”
“Ugh,” Renee complained with a roll of her hazel eyes. “Puh-lease.”
Amy chuckled as she sat on the other side of the couch. “I’ll step down from my soap box now, Ren. Sorry.”
Renee smacked Amy’s socked feet with her magazine. “Don’t worry about it, Aims,” she said with a smile. “And sorry for stepping over the line. You know me.”
Amy opened her book with a smirk. “Yep.”
“Do you have to go to the studio tomorrow?”
“Nope. Shooting doesn’t start for two weeks, but I do need to talk to the director soon about my final scene. I’m a little nervous about it.”
“And I know you can’t tell me about it. Top-secret.”
Amy sent Renee a regretful smile. “Sorry, Ren.”
Renee grimaced, not raising her eyes from the magazine. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just find out with everyone else.” And she sounded really put upon.
Amy chuckled. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”
“Only if you get me a date with Mark Frasier, but since he’s on some big top-secret project and you’re only a nobody in an itty-bitty role… that won’t happen.”
Amy’s smile twitched.
.: Four :.
Dawning
The first week passed as any other week, with the exception of Amy having to tell her boss at the coffee shop near the University that she had to quit. He took it pretty well, considering the short notice, and gave her a dubious expression when she told him she had landed a role in a movie. That, in NYC, was the most common excuse for being a flake. Or so he said.
Studying the script was fun for Amy. Not so much for Renee, due to the fact Amy refused to read her any part of it.
Amy had qualms with certain aspects of the character she played, such as her tendency toward insensitivity and the fact that she practically threw herself at the lead hero - Cloud - instead of staying true to an existing relationship with a young man by the name of Zack. Amy forced herself to excuse the girl, though. After all, Zack had been missing for nearly 5 years when Aeris met Cloud. The girl was probably lonely. And people would do normally out-of-character things when that was the case.
The Sephiroth character intrigued Amy. She felt torn on whether to consider him a true villain or a tortured soul. After all, he had been used and abused, his soul twisted and tainted with untruths about who and what he was. How does a person handle something like that? Amy could see the reasoning behind the character’s desire to control and rule the world. After what he had suffered through his 30-something life, that form of control would probably be the only way to give him some semblance of sanity and stability.
The Monday morning of the second week, Amy dressed in Levis and a nice pale-pink cable sweater her mom had made the Christmas Amy had left for New York. Then she gathered her script and rain jacket, strapped her purse across herself, made sure she had her bus fare in hand, and announced to Renee that she was heading toward the studio early. Renee mumbled something while on the way into the bathroom for a shower and then closed the door firmly behind her. Amy chuckled and locked the apartment after her before making her way to the elevator and then the street outside.
“Good morning, Miss Burke,” the doorman greeted.
“Good morning, Edward,” she greeted the tall and thin man in his late thirties. “How are you?”
“Doing well, Miss Burke. Yourself?”
“Good. Thank you.”
“Off to the bus stop?”
Amy looked at the rain and grimaced. “Yes, and it looks like I’m going to get soaked.” She slipped into her rain coat and then gave Edward another smile as she raised the hood. “See you later.”
The bus was actually on time, which Amy couldn’t understand because of the rain, and dropped her off in front of the studios a full five minutes before the expected time. Traffic had been surprisingly light, with the bus only being honked at once. It’s bound to be a good morning, even with the rain. Which had stopped a few minutes before arriving at the front gate of the studio.
Amy stepped off the bus, missed the puddle with a smile at her good fortune, and then headed toward the front gate. As expected, she was stopped by the security guard there.
“State your name,” he ordered as he retrieved his clipboard.
“Amy Burke,” she offered as she opened her purse and dug out her ID.
“You’re not on the list.”
Amy looked up. “Excuse me?”
“The list.” He lifted the clipboard for her to see. “You’re not on it.”
“Oh. I take it that if I’m not on the list, I don’t get in.”
The security guard stepped back into his booth. “You got it.”
“Hm. Well this is certainly a predicament. I needed to talk to Mr. Shepherd about--”
“Throwing names around won’t impress me, Miss. Move along.”
Amy placed her ID back into its appropriate slot. “You don’t need to be rude about it,” she told him. “I’m just telling you what the problem is so you could offer me a suggestion on how to fix it.”
“Come back when you’re on the list,” he told her with crossed arms.
Amy made a face. “Now why didn’t I think of that?” She turned away with a frown, a shake of her head, and a “for Pete’s sake.”
A familiar red Corvette pulled up, squealing to a stop with all the grandeur and attitude expected of an action-flick hero who believed himself to be God’s answer to Adonis. Mark stepped out of the sports car, tossed the keys to the studio attendant that appeared, and then made his way toward Amy.
“Hey there, you. What’s the matter?”
Amy forced the frown away. “Nothing really. They just won’t let me in. I’m not on the list of expected guests today.”
“If you’re not on the list, what are you doing here?” Mark asked as he came to stand by her.
“I’m a little nervous about one of my scenes. I wanted to talk to the director about it.”
Mark gestured back to the security gate. They headed toward it, Amy falling into step beside him. “Which one?”
“The death scene.”
“Oh. Yeah, I can see why you’d be nervous.” Mark glanced over at her. “I’m sure Shepherd will put a stunt double in for you.”
Amy met his gaze. “But it’s a head-on shot. Otherwise the dramatic effect is lost. You can’t do that with a stunt double.”
“Hm.” They arrived at the security gate. “Mark Frasier.”
The security guard checked the list. “ID.”
Mark pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his black jeans and showed the appropriate ID.
“You’re clear.” He pointed at Amy. “You’re not. Move along.”
Amy frowned. Mark did too. “Look, mister, she’s with me. I don’t care about your rules. She’s got a question--”
“I don’t care,” the security guard interrupted with a shake of his head. He crossed his arms. “She’s not on the list. She doesn’t go in.”
Mark
swore as he pulled a cell phone off his hip. “We’ll see about that damn list.” He hit the speed dial and brought the tiny phone up to his ear. “Yo, Shepherd. Some ass here at the security gate won’t let Amy in because of some damned list … Yes, I know shooting isn’t scheduled for another week, but that’s not why she’s here … What do you mean you don’t have time for anything outside the schedule? … Sure I get that, but-- ... I know-- ... Fine. Be an ass.” Mark disconnected and jammed the phone back into his hip holster. “Sorry, Amy. No can do. Shepherd’s anal about his schedules. I forgot about that.”
Amy smiled. “It’s okay, Mark. I appreciate the effort. I’ll just go home and try and come up with some different ideas on how to do the scene without dying.”
Mark smirked. “I used to do some stunt work myself. In fact, I’m doing my stunts in this flick. If you want, I could come over and give you some pointers or something.”
I’m sure you could. “That’s alright. You’ve got enough on your plate without having to baby-sit the newbie. Thanks for the offer, though.” Amy gestured toward the studio beyond the gate. “You better get going. I don’t want to be black-balled because I held you up.
Mark chuckled. “Yeah. I’d be heart broken because I couldn’t see you anymore.”
Amy’s lips twitched. “I’ll see you later, Mark. And thanks again for trying.”
“Sure thing.”
Amy turned and walked away, very conscious of Mark’s appreciative examination of her retreat. Oh well. Where there are chicks, there are wolves. She snickered at the good joke and sat at the bus stop bench. Wolves and flirts and teases had long ago become expected and dealt with in truly unique ‘Amy’ fashion. Quite simply, she ignored them. Not so much their entire person, just their obvious lines or come-ons. She treated them as a person and that was it. It had been the best way to keep from making enemies. Instead she gained friends, which were more important than anything else. At least in Amy’s opinion.
Amy pulled her script onto her lap to open it to the last scene of the first Act, nibbling her lower lip as she read and reread what she had already written in the margins. The more she thought about the scene, the more she knew that she would be better off if she did talk to Mark about it. I just won’t invite him over to my apartment. We’ll do it in a less personal setting. Renee would be irritated if she ever found out that Mark Frasier had been denied the opportunity to come over, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
There was a door slam and Amy looked up. She smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Harrison. Lovely drive today, I hope.”
Mr. Harrison halted his progress around the roadster with an expression of mild surprise. “Miss Burke? I don’t recall seeing your name on the schedule for this morning.”
Amy grimaced as she set the script beside her. “So I found out the hard way.”
Mr. Harrison finished pulling off his driving gloves as he made his way toward her. He wore yet another pair of flattering Docker-type slacks and what was likely a Ralph Lauren Polo cable-knit sweater-vest of emerald green. The crisp white collar of his freshly pressed Perry Ellis shirt peaked up over the ‘crew’ neck. Wow.
“Was there a problem?” he asked.
“I had a question about my final scene,” she confessed as he came to stand in front of her. He smelled of Hugo Boss, always a favorite of Amy’s when it came to men. “I have to say I’m more than a little nervous.”
Mr. Harrison sat on the bench beside her after taking up the script. “I believe I understand the hesitation,” he said as he flipped through the pages in search of the mentioned scene.
“Mark said something about a stunt double, but that would take away from the dramatic effect.” Mr. Harrison found the scene, and Amy leaned toward him slightly to point to the appropriate section on the page. “See? The culmination of action and conflict up to that point just screams for a dramatic death. If we put in a stunt double…” Amy shook her head as she pulled herself back. “It will ruin the entire scene.”
Mr. Harrison adjusted the script in his hands, apparently reading the notes Amy had written within the margins. “What are these?”
“Oh.” Amy flushed and reached out to take the script. “Just notes to myself. It’s nothing.”
Mr. Harrison pulled the script out of her reach. “Hm,” he commented absently. “Interesting.”
Amy gnawed her lower lip. Then Mr. Harrison closed the script and handed it to her. “Thank you.” She self-consciously adjusted it on her lap. “Anyway, I thought maybe I should take some stunt classes or something. That way Mr. Shepherd doesn’t lose anything in the delivery of the scene.” Amy finally raised her gaze to meet his. She smiled. “I don’t want you to look bad, either. After all, you… suggested me for this role.”
Mr. Harrison’s lips twitched upward. “Yes. So I recall.” He gestured to the script. “Continue to study what is written, Miss Burke. In the mean time, I will ask Max what he had in mind. Believe me, I would rather not risk life and limb simply for the performance of a scene.”
Amy’s smile broadened. “No, I don’t suppose you would. Mr. Shepherd would be a little peeved if the villain and the ‘sacrificial lamb’ died at the climax.”
Mr. Harrison chuckled, and Amy found it a luscious baritone. Then he stood. “When your time comes to perform, Max and myself require 110%. I suggest that until then you enjoy your respite from the grueling shooting schedule.”
Amy nodded, looking into his handsome face with an absent smile. “I will.”
Mr. Harrison gave a slight bow, his eyes still twinkling as his lips twitched upward. “Good morning, Miss Burke, and enjoy your ride back.”
He moved away toward the security gate, Amy staring after him with a continued smile.
.: Five :.
Cause and Effect
The phone on the end table to Amy’s right chirped. She absently reached over to pick it up, nestling it into her shoulder with a distracted “Hello” as she turned the page of her novel.
“Good day. Might I speak with Miss Amy Burke?”
“Speaking,” Amy confessed with disinterest.
“Ah, Miss Burke. Harrison here.”
Amy blinked, the words on the page lost to her as she smiled into the phone. “Well hello, Mr. Harrison. How are you?” Amy closed the novel and set it beside her as she tucked her feet up under her.
“Quite well, thank you. Yourself?”
“Just relaxing with good ol’ Charles Dickens.”
“Indeed?”
Amy’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “What? You expected Sweet Valley High or something?” she asked with a chuckle.
“To be quite truthful…”
Amy laughed. “I suppose I deserved that. I have a tendency of being a little too perky for people to believe I prefer literature to contemporary works. That and I look 16 rather than 26. Oh well.” Amy thought she detected a slight chuckle, and her eyes twinkled. She changed her position on the couch, stretching her legs out as she leaned her back against the couch arm. “So to what do I owe the honor of this call, Mr. Harrison?”
“I’ve spoken to Max regarding the scene.”
Amy’s smile faded to an expression of astonishment.
“It seems that he has already planned a meeting with one of the top stunt companies,” Mr. Harrison continued. “Max intends to gather different options and opinions on how to best handle the situation before making a decision regarding it.”
“Wow. Thank you, Mr. Harrison. I appreciate it.” Amy started picking at a loose string on the couch. “I didn’t tell you to manipulate you into doing something about it.”
“Of course not, Miss Burke. I had already intended to speak with Max regarding the scene, simply at a later date. Your attention to detail and preparedness - which is much appreciated - simply brought it to the forefront of the conversation earlier than intended.”
Amy’s smile returned. “Thank you again, Mr. Harrison. If only all villains and execs could be as helpful… it would
definitely be a lot easier to be persuaded to stay in the movie business.”
“You don’t intend to continue on screen?”
Amy wrinkled her nose as she rested her forehead in her left hand, her elbow pressed into the back of the couch. “Nope. I went to the audition because my friend asked me to. I never actually thought I would get a role, especially not a leading one… although I would call Aeris a supporting role more than a lead. Anyway, my love is the stage, not the screen. Always has been.”
“Indeed?”
“‘Indeed’, Mr. Harrison.” Amy chuckled. “I continue to shock you, don’t I? I think that’s four times now. Twice just in this conversation.”
Mr. Harrison cleared his throat. “I do apologize. I seem to have placed you in an inappropriate category since the first.”
Amy waved it away. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, Mr. Harrison. I did sound pathetically similar to a ‘yes-man’ that first day at the studio. As I told Mark and the director, I brown-nose without meaning to.” Mr. Harrison actually laughed. Amy admitted that it had to be the sexiest sound ever heard from a man. “Anyway, thanks again. You didn’t need to bother about it, but I’m glad you did.”
“Again, you are quite welcome. Also, If you are so inclined, I could meet with you to choreograph different possibilities.”
Amy’s smile vanished as the statement ‘he’ll have you in his sheets in less than a week’ hit her upside the head. True, it had been more than a week, but not if she counted the actual days they had met with each other. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Harrison, you’re so busy… I hate to have you bother with something like that.”
“It is no bother, Miss Burke, due to the fact we will be working together on that particular scene at a later date. With that in mind, I would have likely recommended we meet before actual shooting commences. It reduces the need for retakes of the scene.”
Amy rubbed at her forehead with a single finger. Suspicion battled with her eagerness to work with a legend in his own time. Dang it, Renee... “Well... when did you have in mind? Your schedule looks pretty wild.” Geez. Just give him the benefit of the doubt, girl. “Saturday was my last day at the coffee shop, so I’m free all week.”
“Perhaps we could meet today to discuss possibilities of a rehearsal schedule?”
Amy swallowed hard. “If you’re sure it won’t completely mess up what you’ve already got planned, that’s fine with me.”
“What time should I expect you?”
Amy cleared her throat as she turned in the couch to sit with feet flat on the floor, adjusting the phone to her other shoulder. “Um... well, that depends on the bus schedule. Probably a couple of hours.”
“I see.” Silence. “Would you be available in forty-five minutes?”
Amy blinked. “Pardon?”
“I should be able to arrive at your apartment complex by that time.”
“Mr. Harrison, you don’t have to do that.”
“Nonsense. What is your apartment number?”
“412, but--”
“Right. Forty-five minutes, then.”
“Mr. Harrison,” Amy pressed in her most firm tone available, “this is going a little bit beyond the Executive Producer’s call of duty.”
“Yes, it is,” he agreed, “and such is the reason I am not currently wearing my Executive Producer shoes.”
Amy reluctantly smiled. “No Italian loafers today?”
“Nike.”
Amy laughed. “Alright, alright. No more complaints and whining. I’ll be ready in thirty minutes.”
“Excellent. Barring any quote-unquote emergencies, I shall be there shortly.”
“I thought you weren’t wearing those shoes?” she ribbed.
Mr. Harrison’s smile could almost be heard through the phone. “Unfortunately, I must always carry them with me.”
Amy laughed again. “Point taken and admitted. How about I say I’ll see you when I see you?”
“Good enough, although for the record I do prefer punctuality or early arrivals.”
“I already suspected that,” Amy said with a slight sound of a laugh.
“Ah. Then the warning wasn’t necessary.”
“Nope.”
“Very well, then. I shall see you... when I see you.”
Amy smiled wider with a shake of her head. “Sounds like a plan. Bye.”
Mr. Harrison clicked off without a returned statement, and Amy wondered if he had grown so accustomed to hanging up on people that he didn’t even think about saying ‘good-bye’ or ‘toodles’. Amy laughed. She couldn’t hear him saying ‘toodles’ or ‘ta-ta’ or anything else. A simple click as all she could picture. I’m sure he doesn’t mean to. And Amy wasn’t going to ask, either.
“Okee dokee,” she sighed as she pushed herself to her feet. “A meeting with Sir Garret Harrison. Wow. Don’t look now, Amy girl, you’re on your way to... well... to something.”
Amy shook her head with a chuckle as she made her way to her room to change from her flannel loungers and midriff T-shirt to something a little less... provocative? Amy laughed aloud when she thought of wearing her baggiest and least flattering jeans with her dowdiest sweatshirt. The guy would pass-out from horror! Instead, she dressed in her favorite pair of medium blue Levis and the dark blue sweatshirt that said ‘Oliver’ across the front; one of the many dramas involved with while studying drama at NYU.
Amy washed her face and brushed her teeth, then reapplied her make-up and ran a brush through her waves of brunette. She put the side and front portions up in a barrette to keep it out of her face, and then she gave it a couple spritzes of Aussie hairspray to keep it from flying every which way and tickling her nose into a sneezing fit. That would not be very attractive. Then she left the bathroom while pulling off her socks, leaping on first one foot and then the other on her way to her bedroom.
Amy grabbed a fresh pair of socks from her dresser, scooped up her outlet-store Addidas from the corner by her bedroom door, and then padded to the couch. She looked at her watch. Cool. Fifteen minutes. Gives me thirty before he shows up. She slipped into her socks and shoes as she chuckled over their phone conversation. So he is human after all. I’ll have to tell Renee ‘I told you so’, which caused another flow of sniggers and shakes of the head.
Deciding to make sure there was juice, freshly filtered water, or soda pop in the fridge ready and waiting for their guest, Amy made her way into the kitchenette and opened the fridge. Sure enough, there was a half gallon of juice from concentrate, a half pitcher full of filtered water, and a half case of diet cola. Amy wrinkled her nose. Mr. Harrison probably doesn’t like cola, and definitely not diet. So, wanting to be the appropriately prepared hostess that her mother had trained, Amy set some water to heating on the stove for tea - herbal and not black - and then brought her grinder down from the cupboard to make coffee.
Amy had just set the coffee to percolating in her trusty Mr. Coffee coffee-maker when there was a firm knock on the door. Amy glanced down at her watch. She smiled. Fifteen minutes early. Good for you. Amy tucked the grinder up and away with a shout over her shoulder of “Just a second!” before hurrying to the door. She unlocked the deadbolt and chain and opened it.
Mr. Harrison was dressed in his same slacks and cable-knit sweater with a schedule book the size of a notebook in one hand while wearing a somewhat serious expression on his face. Amy smiled and stepped back as she opened the door wider. “Come on in.”
He did so, taking in a minute scrutiny of the small apartment and the furnishings/decorations therein.
“I didn’t know how soon you wanted to scoot out of here, what with traffic and everything,” Amy continued, “so I’m making coffee or tea. Your choice. If you’d rather a cold drink, I have freshly filtered water, diet cola, and juice. No alcohol. Don’t drink.” Amy closed the door, refastened the locks, and then made her way back to the kitchen when she heard the teapot begin to sing. “Go ahead and have a seat,” she offered as she passed.
br /> Amy heard the schedule book go onto the couch but heard his steps cross the hardwood floor toward her collection of books. Amy smiled as she placed the teapot onto the available hot pad before opening the cupboard above the stove in search of the box of teabags. She had never been ashamed of her reading preferences, and now she was even a little proud of her selection. Especially with Sir Garret Harrison looking over it.
Mr. Harrison’s loafers click-clicked back over toward the bar and the stools of the kitchenette. Amy found the wanted box of Earl Gray and Chamomile teas and set them onto the counter without turning around. “So what’s the verdict: tea or coffee?” she asked as she stepped to the left cupboard near the sink for the mugs.
“Coffee. Thank you.”
Amy heard him sit at the counter as she set the tea boxes aside and carried the mugs over to the coffee-maker. “Honey or sugar?”
“Honey.”
“Cream or not?”
“Is it non-dairy?”
“Yep,” Amy said as she made her way to the fridge. “I’m lactose intolerant. A bummer when I crave ice cream, but what can a person do.” Amy retrieved the creamer from the fridge and turned to show it, vaguely noticing how well Mr. Harrison fit with her decor. “It’s French Vanilla. I hope you don’t mind.”
Mr. Harrison’s smile was slight and continual. “It doesn’t matter.”
Amy made her way back to the coffee-maker. “I usually put a teaspoon or two of chocolate powder in mine, making it a mocha you know. Did you want to try it?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Sure.” Amy finished the concoction and turned to place it on the counter with a napkin and a saucer and spoon. “There ya go.”
“Thank you.”
“Uh-huh.” And then she went to work with her own coffee.
There was the slight tinkle of spoon on china as he stirred his coffee. “Quite an impressive library, Miss Burke.”
“Thanks. It was a bit of a chore to get them on a student’s limited income, but I shopped garage sales, estate sales, eBay, and who knows where else.” Amy put her mug into the microwave and hit ‘30 seconds’. She turned back to Mr. Harrison and gestured to his coffee. “Is it hot enough? I could reheat it.”
Mr. Harrison set the spoon onto the saucer and took a testing sip. “It’s fine. Thank you.”
The microwave beeped, and Amy retrieved her coffee mug. Then she gave it a stir with her own spoon before sipping it as she leaned a hip against the bar counter across from Mr. Harrison. “I love books as much as I love reading. A person can’t have those types of adventures nowadays. Well, not unless you’re on stage or screen. That’s probably why I went into Drama. I loved the adventure.” Amy smirked. “The applause is nice too.”
“Yes. I have found the applause to be worth the agony of the performance.”
Amy nodded. “Applause is like a drug. Maybe that’s why actors stay in the biz so long. They’re really addicts,” she finished with twinkling eyes as she sipped her coffee.
Mr. Harrison chuckled. “Yes, I suppose we are.”
Amy regarded Mr. Harrison over her coffee cup. There was something different about him. Yeah. He’s actually relaxed. “What made you go on stage?” Mr. Harrison’s relaxed expression tightened, and the smile became forced. Amy pounced on the obvious warning of dangerous territory with a genuine “I’m sorry, Mr. Harrison. Forget I said anything. Just enjoy your coffee.”
Mr. Harrison stared into his coffee cup on the bar counter a moment before raising his gaze to meet hers. “Call me Garret.”
Amy smiled to hide the relieved sigh. “Okay, but you have to stop calling me Miss Burke. Makes me feel like I should be wearing my hair in a bun with army-issue glasses and a dowdy blazer/skirt combination.”
Mr. Harrison-- Garret’s expression relaxed into a smile as he chuckled. “I do apologize.”
Amy straightened and headed around the bar to the living room, coffee and saucer in hand. “Don’t worry about it. Habits die hard.” She set her cup and saucer onto a coaster on the coffee table and sat in the couch. “Alright. I guess we should-- Oh wait.” Amy looked over at Garret. “Were we going somewhere else?”
Garret stood - Amy hadn’t realized he was so tall - and made his way to sit beside her. Hugo Boss clung to each article of clothing he wore. He set his cup and saucer on a coaster beside hers. “It isn’t necessary. We should be able to compare schedules as easily here as elsewhere.”
“Okay. Just wanted to make sure.” Amy leaned back in the couch with a fast breath as she crossed her arms. “Like I said, I’m free all day and all afternoon. Except for Sunday mornings. Church, you know.” Garret unzipped his schedule book and opened it to the appropriate week. Curiosity got the best of Amy, so she leaned slightly over to take a gander at his... life... “Oh my gosh! How do you stay sane with all that going on?”
Garret looked over at her with an expression of surprise. “This?” he asked as he motioned to the week. It was nearly black and blue with all the notes and meetings and places-to-be at certain times. “This is a mild week; due to the fact I have shooting schedules.”
“B-But... You barely have 15 minutes to yourself!” Amy pressed, wide-eyed. She met his gaze. “No wonder you escaped to the park last week. If you hadn’t you probably would have killed someone!”
One side of Garret’s lips tilted upward. “Yes, well, last week was a touch harsher than what is normal. There were certain critical miscommunications.”
Amy scooted closer and tapped on the weekly schedule, motioning to each day and bringing to his attention the fact that there was no free space. “But look. Meeting, meeting, scene shooting, luncheon date...” She looked up to meet his mildly amused expression. “This isn’t healthy. Do you want to have a stroke?”
“While the doctor has warned my blood pressure is a trifle higher than what he would like, I’ve grown accustomed to the constant demand for my attention.”
Amy shook her head and scooted a little back. “I’m sorry, but there is no way I’m going to add to that mess. If you free your schedule at all, you should take the time for yourself and not for me.”
“Nonsense. I enjoy my work.”
“Oh, is that what you call snapping people’s heads off--” Amy’s eyes widened as she slapped both hands over her mouth. Garret simply raised an eyebrow as he met her gaze. “Oh my gosh,” she said, muffled by her hands. She shook her head and lowered her hands. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I said that.”
His lips twitched with a smile. “It’s quite all right. I believe I deserved the reprimand. To have it vocalized by a lovely lady such as yourself rather than Max is an added bonus.”
Amy let the line slide. “I still shouldn’t have said it. Mom brought me up with more tact than that.”
“Yes, well, tact has its place. I have a tendency of ignoring anything but bluntness.”
Amy smiled. “I’ve met a few people like that,” she confessed.
Garret motioned to his schedule. “All right then. This meeting can be rescheduled to next week… no, I believe I will cancel until after shooting is completed. I haven’t the time for another project, as you’ve so adeptly pointed out. And this luncheon… Hm. No, I suppose I should keep that appointment. Charity and whatnot.”
Garret continued on for nearly half an hour as Amy watched in horror and amazement as he completely and totally rearranged his schedule to free 3 hours each day of that week just for rehearsals with her on one scene. She could hardly believe it possible. Not that she would be rehearsing with Sir Garret Harrison, but that his schedule would move like that. But he made phone call after phone call on his tiny cell phone and canceled, rearranged, rescheduled, and shortened meetings and appointments until Amy’s name was penned in every day that week.
When Garret ended the last phone call, Amy leaned back into the couch with an exhalation of breath and a shake of her head. “I’m exhausted.”
Garret smirked as he tucked the cell phone into the appropria
te corner of his schedule book. “Come, come. Rearranging my schedule didn’t deserve that quip.”
Amy reluctantly smiled. “Not from your point of view, but definitely from mine. I’m of the philosophy that we should have at least an hour or two each day just to ourselves.”
“And what would you do with this treasure trove of availability?” Garret asked as he turned a little more toward her. One arm draped around the back of the couch as the other rested comfortably on the arm.
“Are you kidding?” Amy asked, wide-eyed. She brought up a hand to count off the activities on each finger. “Read, write on that script I’ve been tinkering with, go to the movies, hang out at the coffee shop and just watch people, go watch a play in the park, just take a walk in the park...” She lowered her hand and met his gaze again. “There are a million things I could do.”
Garret watched her expression with a continual smile. “You certainly give it an air of excitement.”
Amy’s lips twitched. “Life should be exciting. But it’s important for me to have some down time to relax and rediscover who I am, what I’m doing, and where I’m headed. If I don’t, I might forget why I want to be on the stage in the first place.”
“And why does Miss Amy Burke want to be on stage?”
Well that was smooth. “When I was a kid, I loved the idea of performing and making people laugh or cry or whatever. Something about… providing this alternate reality just appealed to me. It was fun, to put it simply. As I grew up, it became more of a…” Amy pushed her lips to one side of her mouth as her eyes focused on the bar counter behind him. Then her eyes focused back on his as they intensely scrutinized her expression with that same, continual, and very attractive smile. “I’m not really sure what to call it. I just couldn’t think of doing anything else but live these roles and perform these people that had such fascinating stories to tell. Each time I do, it’s like I discover a new part of myself.” She smiled, and her eyes twinkled. “Isn’t that odd? That we discover parts of ourselves through fictional characters because we’re not afraid to be true to their character?”
“Indeed,” he acknowledged softly. Garret regarded her a moment. “What have you discovered of yourself through Aeris Gainsborough?”
Amy began to feel the affect of his gentle gaze and tender tone and cologne and intoxicating… Amy cleared her throat and changed her gaze to her fingernails. “Actually, she’s a little annoying, but probably only because I would handle situations a little differently than what the writer has. Who knows, maybe she’s annoying because her personality is very similar to mine?” Amy chuckled and risked changing her gaze back to Garret. “Does that mean I’m annoying too?” He has gorgeous blue eyes--
“Definitely not the word I would have chosen,” Garret intoned in the perfect tone of voice to be a type of…
Amy moved her gaze away, leaning forward to take a sip from her previously forgotten coffee. “But it does give one cause to wonder, you must admit.”
“I wonder only how you have remained so fresh and cheerful among the usual skepticism of New York City.”
Amy blinked before taking up the spoon and stirring the caramel colored liquid. Renee wasn’t kidding about the charm. “My dad says I’m a continual optimist with a humor streak the size of the Mississippi.”
Garret chuckled and crossed his right ankle onto his left knee, which of course caused the sole of his foot to brush Amy’s leg. Amy couldn’t help but smile. None of the men in her entire experience of high school and college and every day working at the coffee shop had ever been this smooth. She rather enjoyed it.
Amy took up her cup and saucer and leaned back into the couch. “Sometimes I have problems with inappropriate sarcasm, but I’m always quick to apologize.” She took a sip of coffee and then gave a slight shrug. “Well, most of the time. There are those times when they either deserved it, or I was too clueless to realize I was out of line.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
Amy smiled as she kept her eyes from his face, attractive and inviting as it was. “I guess that means I’m a good actor.”
Garret chuckled as he very smoothly adjusted his seating to move slightly closer to Amy. The excuse in doing so was, of course, to gain a better position to retrieve his cup and saucer from the coffee table. I wonder if he’ll try to kiss me? It wasn’t an unpleasant prospect to say the least, but Amy wasn’t that type of girl. A bedpost mark? I don’t think so. Amy was a prude, and she wasn’t ashamed of it, either.
“I propose a challenge, then.”
Amy blinked and looked over at him. Garret met her gaze with the same attractive expression of flirtation that wasn’t as painfully obvious as the men in her life before. “Excuse me?”
Garret leaned forward to place his cup and saucer back onto the coffee table. “I shall begin a scene with what I believe is the appropriate amount of dialogue lead-in, and you are to continue with the appropriate response.”
Amy arched an eyebrow as she very slowly set her cup and saucer beside his. “Hmm. I think I’m in for a humiliating experience.”
Garret chuckled as he stood to move opposite the coffee table. “Nonsense.” He gestured her forward. “Come, come, Amy.”
Amy released a deep breath as she stood. “Alright, but you better promise not to ridicule me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I shan’t.”
Garret’s blue eyes twinkled as she came to stand opposite him. Then his expression and entire persona changed. Amy could see a touch of distress and intensity within the expression and stance. It rose to a type of fervor as he stepped slightly toward her, lost within the role.
“‘Madam, is there here any armor within your chamber that I might cover my body withal? And if there be any, give it me, and I shall soon stop their malice, by the grace of God!’“
As he delivered the lines with such complete and total immersion into the character, Amy instantly knew where he quoted from. In fact, she had chosen this scene as a Final her second year at NYU. It was a scene from Morte Darthur, from the section known as ‘The Conspiracy against Lancelot and Guinevere’. Garret, of course, played Sir Lancelot. In the scene, Sir Lancelot had been caught within Queen Guinevere’s chambers. It had all been used as a conspiracy by certain other knights to prove Sir Lancelot traitor.
Amy had always loved the scene because of its passion and intensely emotional dialogue.
Amy, in full character and anguish that her love was in danger, took hold of Garret/Sir Lancelot’s arm. “‘Now, truly I have none armor neither helm, shield, sword, neither spear, wherefore I dread me sore our long love is come to a mischievous end.’“ Amy/Guinevere gestured behind her to the imaginary hall which held the men thirsting for her love’s blood and calling him traitor. “‘For I hear by their noise there be many noble knights, and well I woot they be securely armed, and against them ye may make no resistance.’“ Her expression became pained as she held his arm with both hands. “‘Wherefore ye are likely to be slain, and then shall I be burned! For if ye might escape them I would not doubt but that ye would rescue me in what danger that ever I stood in.’“
“‘Alas! In all my life thus was I never beset that I should be thus shamefully slain for lack of mine armor.’“ And Sir Lancelot’s aggravation at his apparent helplessness at defending his love as well as his person was masterfully portrayed by Garret’s expression. “Ah, Jesu mercy!’“ Garret/Sir Lancelot continued. “‘This shameful cry and noise I may not suffer, for better were death at once than thus to endure this pain.’“ Then Garret/Sir Lancelot took Amy/Guinevere into his arms and kissed her.
Amy had been kissed several times throughout her life, but nothing had ever come even remotely close to the complete and total mergence of passion, intensity, and tenderness. It moved her as nothing else had ever done.
Then Garret/Sir Lancelot raised his head and said, “‘Most noblest Christian queen, I beseech you, as ye have been ever my special good lady, and I at all times your po
or knight and true to the utmost of my power, and as I never failed you in right nor in wrong sithen the first day King Arthur made me knight, that ye will pray for my soul if that I be slain. For well I am assured that Sir Bors, my nephew, and all the remnant of my kin, with Sir Lavain and Sir Urry, that they will not fail you to rescue you from the fire.” Garret/Sir Lancelot caressed Amy/Guinevere’s face with a tender touch that brought tears to her eyes as her gaze was held so completely by his. “And therefore, mine own lady, recomfort yourself, whatsoever come of me, that ye go with Sir Bors, my nephew, and Sir Urry and they all will do you all the pleasure that they may, and ye shall live like a queen upon my lands.’“
Amy/Guinevere shook her head. “‘Nay, Sir Lancelot,’“ she said in a cracked and broken voice, “‘wit thou well that I will not live long after thy days. But if ye be slain I will take my death as meekly as ever did martyr take his death for Jesu Christ’s sake.’“
Garret/Sir Lancelot’s expression became resigned and tender. “‘Well, Madam, sith it is so that the day is come that our love must come to an end, wit you well I shall sell my life as dear as I may.’“ His expression held clear anguish. “‘And a thousandfold I am more grieved for you than for myself! And now I had rather than to be lord of all Christendom that I had sure armor upon me, that men might speak of my deeds ere ever I were slain.’“
Amy/Guinevere reached up with both hands to caress Garret/Sir Lancelot’s face. “‘Truly, if it might please God, I would that they would take me and slay me and allow you to escape,’“ she said softly, tenderly.
Garret/Sir Lancelot shook his head. “‘That shall never be.’“ He stepped away from her with a clear expression of purpose and determination. “‘God defend me from such a shame! But, Jesu Christ, be Thou my shield and mine armor!’“
Then Sir Lancelot disappeared to that realm of fiction and imagination that existed in all actors. Amy was still in such a daze from the kiss and the scene and the complete joy to act in such a work of literary wonder that she barely noticed the transition.
“Well done,” Garret said with a smile in eyes and on lips. “Your portrayal of Queen Guinevere was… superb.”
“Thank you,” Amy said in a tone that seemed a little lost, but she did have presence of mind enough to offer “I’ve always loved that scene.”
Garret stepped a little closer, but Amy was so intense on the duty of gathering her wits from the edges of her sanity that she didn’t notice. “Such a statement doesn’t shock in the least,” he said, stepping closer still. “Especially with your convincing performance of love and tenderness. Magnificent. Breathtaking.” Garret surrounded her with his arms and drew her closer. “Enchanting,” he whispered.
Amy blinked up at him, her green eyes lost in the depths of his blue ones. Some part of her mind desperately tried to remind her of something very important, but then he was kissing her and the warning was lost amidst the scene and the characters and the wondrous emotion of attraction.
Reality dropped like a lead weight when the intensity of his kiss heightened, bringing with it a remembered comment of ‘he’ll have you in his sheets in less than a week’.
Amy pulled back, stepping away from Garret’s kiss and cologne and warmth with a slight gasp. “No,” she said with a shake of her head, eyes wide.
Garret followed with an easy smile, his hands catching hold of hers as he said “‘Oh mistress mine, where are you roaming? / O, stay and hear; your true love’s coming, / that can sing both high and low.’“
Amy shook her head again. Shakespeare… Oh my gosh. Sir Garret Harrison is quoting Shakespeare… “M-Mr. Harrison…” And she took another step back.
Garret followed still. “‘Trip no further, pretty sweeting; / Journeys end in lovers meeting, / Every wise man’s son doth know.’“ He drew her closer, his gaze holding hers as his smile made Amy unable to say a word. “‘What is love? ‘tis not hereafter; / Present mirth hath present laughter; / What’s to come is still unsure: / In delay there lies no plenty;’“ Garret very slowly lowered his head, drawing his lips ever closer to hers. Amy watched in shock and horror as her mind lost control of her body. “‘Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, / Youth’s a stuff will not endure,’“ he whispered.
Amy closed her eyes as his lips gently met hers. Oh my gosh… this can’t be happening… And her mind felt as if she were drowning on a wave of so many things and thoughts and emotions that she was lost among them. ‘he’ll have you in his sheets’-- Amy pulled back with a scowl, shoving Garret away a little more forcefully than she probably should have.
“No,” she said firmly, “I am not going to be another mark on your bedpost!” Amy scowled up into Garret’s surprised expression.
The easy, attractive, flirtatious smile returned as he enfolded her hands in his. “Amy--”
“No,” she said again, pulling her hands free. She put fists on hips. “Mr. Harrison, this is exactly what Renee warned me about. You want to know what I told her? I told her that she shouldn’t believe those gossip columns because they never know the full story.” Hurt and tears began to glitter in her eyes as Garret’s smile slowly faded. “I was doing my best, my best, to give you a chance to be yourself. In fact, these meetings with you have been a lot of fun.”
A tear escaped, but Amy ignored it. “You had no right to trample all over that in my home and take advantage of a passionate situation. And I would rather not think you planned it that way. If you want to start a relationship, Mr. Harrison, then you could at least have the decency to talk to me about it. I wouldn’t have said no. You’re a very attractive man, brilliant on stage, and a pleasant human being when given the chance. In fact, I had begun to like you as a person, and not as what some people would call a meal ticket to the bright lights of New York City’s inner-circle.”
Garret said nothing. He only straightened and held her angry, hurt, and tear-filled gaze.
Amy sniffed, and her tone and expression softened as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’m a person, Mr. Harrison, with feelings and views and thoughts on life and living. I am not someone or something to be conquered. It hurts me to think you believed I was.”
This time Garret lowered his gaze. Then he turned and moved toward the couch, taking up his schedule book before making his way to the door. He unlocked the deadbolt and slid back the chain. Once he had opened the door, he turned back and said very softly “I apologize, Miss Burke,” while not meeting her gaze.
Then he closed the door after him. Amy sniffed and slowly made her way to the couch. She sat on the very edge and covered her face with her hands.
.: Six :.
Garret Harrison
When Renee had returned from work a couple hours later, Amy had been soaking in the tub while listening to Offenbach’s Tales of Hoffman, something Renee knew Amy only did when upset. Renee of course had pelted Amy with questions, but she hadn’t wanted to add to the already horrendous mountain of gossip stacked against Garret. As usual for Amy, she wanted to give him another chance. Like she had said to his face, she was beginning to like him as a person. If he wanted to start a relationship, she would.
Amy didn’t sleep that night. She felt bad for Garret. Not because of what she had said, but because she thought he might have really believed the only way he could get ‘love’ was through his fame. Amy didn’t ever like reading too much into situations, but she had seen and heard it all too often.
Amy sighed now, sitting as she was on the couch while trying to study her script before her scheduled rehearsal time with him later that afternoon. I wasn’t too hard on him, was I? Amy had done her best to be honest, just like her mom and dad had taught her, while being as tactful as possible. The only problem being that Amy had this inkling no one said ‘no’ to Sir Garret Harrison very often. Didn’t I have a hard enough time? Amy sighed again, giving a shake of her head just as there was a knock on the door.
“Coming.”
She unfurled herself from the couch, gave the waistban
d of her flannel loungers a gentle pull upward, and then headed over to the door. She unlocked the deadbolt but kept the chain. When she opened the door, Garret stood on the other side dressed in pressed Calvin Klein jeans and a Ralph Lauren Polo shirt of dark blue.
Amy blinked. “Oh. Hello. Just a sec.” Amy slightly closed the door, unfastened the chain, and then opened it the rest of the way. She motioned inside with an outstretched arm. “Come on in.”
Garret hesitated a moment before stepping over the threshold and standing quite uncertain in the middle of the living room.
Amy motioned to the couch. “Have a seat.” She gathered up her script and set it on the coffee table; then she headed for the kitchen. “Coffee?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“I’ll set it to brewing and then change into something a little more… appropriate.” Amy had already ground some coffee beans earlier, so she put the appropriate amount into the basket, filled the machine with water, and then turned it on. “It should only take a couple minutes. Be right back.”
Amy closed the door to her bedroom and leaned against it with a sigh. Just don’t try any approach but the right one, Garret. Please? Give yourself a chance. Amy pushed away from the door and changed into her favorite jean/sweatshirt combination. When she headed out of her bedroom, she heard the clunk and clink of Garret in the kitchenette preparing a mug of coffee. The idea of Sir Garret Harrison in her kitchen making coffee settled well, but she supposed the idea of any eligible bachelor as good looking as Garret Harrison in her kitchen would have settled well.
Amy sat on the couch tailor-style as she said “The chocolate powder is in a glass container to the left of the coffee-maker.”
A few minutes later, Garret emerged with two cup-and-saucer combinations in hand. He set both on the waiting coasters on the coffee table and then sat beside her on the couch. Garret began absently stirring his coffee. A few moments later, he set the spoon aside and cleared his throat, staring down at his hands before turning to meet her gaze. He looked about to speak several times, but then he pressed his lips together and faced forward again.
Amy drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I’m not mad, you know,” she said quietly. “You apologized, and I believe you meant it. I’m not one to hold a grudge.” Garret didn’t acknowledge her statement, so Amy smiled and said “‘No more be grieved at that which thou hast done: / Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud.’“ Garret’s lips lifted in a slight smile as Amy continued. “‘Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, / And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. / All men make faults.’“
“‘And even I in this,’“ Garret finished. He looked over at her. “Yet another bit of proof that you have actually read those books I see rising up behind you.”
Amy examined her knees with a slight smile. “What else are you supposed to do with books?”
“Many own them to impress the appropriate crowd.”
Amy raised her gaze to meet his. Her expression was truthful. “The only people I’ve ever wanted to impress were my parents, and my grades did that.” Then the smile returned. “Although I must admit I’m glad you liked my Guinevere performance.”
Garret cleared his throat and looked away.
Amy chuckled. “I’m sorry. That was hitting below the belt.”
Garret released a long breath. “Miss Burke--”
“Amy,” she softly insisted as she watched his profile.
He reached forward to take up the action of stirring his coffee again. “Amy,” he corrected, “my actions last night have put you into an awkward situation, to say the least. If you wish to bow out of your role within this movie, I do not blame you in the least.”
Amy retrieved her cup and saucer to take a sip. Then she simply stared down at the slightly wavering caramel-colored liquid. “Do you want me to?” Garret didn’t answer, so Amy changed her gaze to his profile. “I’ve never run away from anything in my life, Garret, but if you want me to quit… I will. This is your movie.”
Garret finally turned his head to meet her gaze. “You’re an odd one, Miss Amy Burke,” he said simply.
Amy slightly smiled as she sipped her coffee. “And why’s that?”
“You do not take advantage. You do not chase fame and fortune as a parched man chases mirages for a taste of non-existent water. You are unlike any young woman previously met.”
Amy chuckled. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“Intriguing, yes. Bad?” Garret shook his head, still gauging her as she sipped her coffee. “No. I don’t believe so.”
Amy ran a finger lightly around the rim of her coffee cup, watching its trail around with twinkling eyes. “Thank you. I like being intriguing.”
Garret continued to watch her. “I believe choosing you as Aeris Gainsborough to be the best choice made thus far.”
Amy actually flushed. “I appreciate that, but I think your Sephiroth will make the movie. He’s a wonderful character, and you’re just the man to carry the role.”
“Flattery has just earned you a pay-raise.”
Amy laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she looked over at him. “The only pay-raise I need is to hear you recite more.”
Garret’s lips twitched as he regarded her. Then, much to Amy’s surprise, he began to softly quote “‘A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted / Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion; / A woman’s gentle heart but not acquainted / With shifting change as is false women’s fashion; / An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, / Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth…’“ Garret continued to watch her face.
Amy sniffed and whispered “Thank you for choosing that one. It’s one of my favorites.”
Garret faintly smiled. “Shakespeare. Always the tool to a woman’s heart.”
Amy chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know. Sir Philip Sydney has some wonderful works. And I know of a poem by Queen Elizabeth that I love to death.”
“On Monsieur’s Departure?” Garret asked.
Amy nodded while taking another sip of coffee. “That’s the one.”
Garret retrieved his coffee with one hand while motioning with the other. “You must recite it.”
“After your performance of Shakespeare?” she asked, wide-eyed.
Garret chuckled, motioning again for her to recite. “Come, come.”
Amy set down her cup and saucer and then wiped her palms on her jeans. “Alright,” she whispered. “Let’s see.”
Amy cleared her throat before taking in a deep breath to set the inner mood. Then she softly and intensely quoted “‘I grieve and dare not show my discontent, / I love and yet am forced to seem to hate, / I do, yet dare not say I ever meant, / I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate. / I am and not, I freeze and yet am burned, / Since from myself another self I turned.’“ Amy closed her eyes as her spirit searched out the words, lifting her hands to her chest in movement and mood of the poem. “‘My care is like my shadow in the sun, / Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it, / Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done. / His too familiar care doth make me rue it. / No means I find to rid him from my breast, / Till by the end of things it be suppressed.’“ Amy shook her head, sadness blanketing her expression. “‘Some gentler passion slide into my mind, / For I am soft and made of melting snow; / Or be more cruel, love, and so be kind. / Let me or float or sink, be high or low, / Or let me live with some more sweet content, / Or die and so forget what love ere meant.’“
Garret lowered his cup and saucer to the coffee table with a slight clink, making Amy give a startled jump as her eyes focused on his face. He softly applauded. “Bravo, Amy. Bravo.”
Amy flushed and quickly retrieved her coffee. “Stop. It wasn’t that good.”
“On the contrary, absolutely wonderful,” he contradicted as he again took up his cup. “Have you recited in public often?”
Amy shook her head. “Not recently. I did when I still studied at N.Y.U.. It was req
uired as part of my grade.”
Garret nodded, and then he suddenly looked to his watch. “Blast.” He set down his cup and saucer as he stood.
Amy watched him with wide eyes. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ve a meeting scheduled 20 minutes hence.” Garret made his way to the door, Amy following after him. “Now I haven’t the time to change,” he mumbled.
“I’m sorry. You should have told me.”
“Nonsense. You aren’t to blame.” Garret opened the door and turned, his expression thoughtful. “Let us postpone this afternoon’s rehearsal until tomorrow. Then I shall inform you of my decision.”
Amy nodded, holding his gaze. “Drive carefully. It’s getting about the time the crazies are out.”
Garret continued to look down at her with an odd expression. “‘They that have power to hurt and will do none…’“
One side of his lips twitched upward. Then he stroked Amy’s cheek with the back of a finger before turning away to stride toward the elevator with long steps, long white hair streaming behind. Amy stared after him, eyes wide. When he entered the elevator, he sent her a smile as he slightly bowed. Then the elevator closed.
Amy closed the front door and leaned against it with a slow breath. Then she smiled and lowered her gaze to her feet. A part of her knew his change of heart could only be another avenue taken to get what he wanted – after all, who said ‘no’ to Garret Harrison – but Amy had dedicated herself to thinking the best of people. She wasn’t going to do any less than that for him--
Knock knock
Amy gave a startled twitch and turned to open the door, which she hadn’t chained or locked yet. Garret stood on the other side. Amy blinked and then smiled. “I seriously doubt you’re back from your meeting already. And I refuse to let you flake out of it just so we can recite more poetry to each other, fun as it is.”
Garret sent her his usual attractive and inviting smile. “No, no. I haven’t become as irresponsible as that.”
Amy leaned against the door jam and crossed her arms, her lips still tickled with a smile. “Then what can I do for you, Mr. Harrison?”
Garret’s eyes twinkled with what must have been mischief. One side of his lips twitched slightly higher as he leaned against the same side of the door, barely four inches from her. “‘Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss: / Her lips sucks forth my soul, see where it flies! / Come Helen, come, give me my soul again. / Here will I dwell, for heaven be in these lips, / And all is dross that is not Helena!’“
Amy could better control her wilting resolve now that she was more prepared for Garret’s charm and flirtation. Although his aroma of innate passion and intensity was intoxicating. “Dr. Faustus; Scene 13,” she named softly. “I think I liked the play better than the opera Faust, although the songs are wonderful.” Amy reached out with a single finger, which she pressed against his chest to push him gently out of her personal space. “Now, seriously, what can I do for you?”
Garret chuckled as he straightened. “I have returned with an invitation to accompany.”
Amy arched an eyebrow. “‘Accompany’ you to what?”
“My meeting.”
“Your--” Amy straightened while her arms went swiftly to her sides. “What?” She shook her head. “I couldn’t. It’s… That’s… Isn’t it private?”
“I suppose they might construe it as such,” he acknowledge with a slight nod, “but I have enjoyed our conversations too much to wish an end to them.”
Amy flushed at the compliment but continued her protest. “Garret, I… While I appreciate the offer, I really don’t think that would be a good idea. I would feel as if I were barging in on not only your private life, but theirs too. I couldn’t do that.”
Garret leaned against the door jam yet again, arms crossed as he slightly smirked down at her. “Even though the attendance may mean an assurance of the pinnacle to your career?”
Amy’s eyes widened as her mouth dropped slightly open. She sputtered less than gracefully before finally saying passionately “Especially then! I can’t accept special favors from you, Garret.”
“And why is that?” he asked, still smiling.
“If there’s going to be any kind of ‘pinnacle’, I would like to earn it on my own.”
Garret accepted the point with another slight nod. “Yes, I acknowledge the importance of that, but who is to say you haven’t earned this opportunity? Amy, I can very easily consider these shared meetings a type of ongoing audition.”
Amy shook her head. “But they weren’t,” she insisted with a bit more intensity than she wanted. Amy cleared her throat. “Garret, I would never use you like that.”
Garret regarded her a moment, the upward lift of his lips a bit more prominent than before. “No, I don’t suppose you would. Perhaps there is the attraction?”
Amy blinked as she leaned slightly back. “What?” she asked carefully.
Garret’s eyes traced her features as he whispered “‘Who will in fairest book of Nature know / How Virtue may best lodged in beauty be, / Let him but learn of Love to read in thee, / Stella, those fair lines, which true goodness show. / There shall he find all vices’ overthrow, / Not by rude force, but sweetest sovereignty / Of reason, from whose light those night-birds fly.’“ He adjusted his crossed arms as his gaze again met hers. “Yes, Sir Philip Sydney has the appropriate words… You continue to intrigue and surprise, a surprisingly sensual aspect I had forgotten existed of a woman.”
Amy stared up at him in muted shock and disbelief before a smile blossomed onto her face. She shook her head with a chuckle, and then she reached out to take both of his upper arms in her hands and push him a step back from her door jam. “You have a meeting to get to, Mr. Harrison. Punctuality, remember?”
Garret embraced her face in his hands, Amy’s smile vanishing with the motion, and said “‘But, ah, Desire still cries, give me some food.’“ And then he tenderly kissed her.
Amy’s heart danced at the gentle passion of it, but she still pulled his hands from her face and her lips from his – much strength drained with the effort – and shook her head slightly. “Garret…”
Garret gave a bit of a nod with a whispered “‘My lips are sweet, inspired with Stella’s kiss.’“
Amy reluctantly smiled as she pulled her hands free from his. “You know all the lines – Shakespeare and Sir Philip Sydney both – that make a girl’s heart flutter, don’t you?”
Garret smirked. “Too many years of practice with gaining a lady’s favor.”
Amy nodded, and then her expression became serious. “But what does Garret Harrison say to woo a lady?” She reached out to gently touch his chest where his heart/soul was. Garret’s gaze lowered to the action. “What’s in there?” Amy asked softly.
Garret stared at her finger touching his chest for a long moment before lifting a hand to pull her touch away. “I had best go,” he said as he met her gaze. “Until tomorrow.”
Amy nodded, submerging her hands deep into her pockets when he released his hold. “Alright. Have fun,” she said softly.
Garret turned away and headed slowly for the elevator.
“Garret?” Amy called suddenly.
Garret stopped and turned. “What is it?”
Amy cleared her throat. “You can call me whenever you want. Or stop by… Or… whatever.”
A slight smile lightened Garret’s serious expression. “While I doubt my schedule will permit, I appreciate the offer.”
Amy nodded as she lowered her gaze to her toes. She rocked back onto her heels. “I know, I… I just wanted to… to let you hear the invitation, I guess.”
Garret remained quiet for a moment. “Thank you, Amy,” he finally said.
She peeked up at him with a slight smile. “Sure.”
And then Sir Garret Harrison gave a slight bow and turned again for the elevator. The door closed, sealing away his smile and releasing Amy’s heart. She let out a slow breath. “Where’s Garret Harrison???
? she whispered. Then she turned and entered her apartment, closing the door softly behind her.
.: Seven :.
Rehearsals
Amy looked up from her notebook computer at the desk in her room when there was a light tap on her bedroom door. She turned slightly in her chair to look over her shoulder. “It’s open.”
Renee opened the door and leaned against the frame. “I’m heading to work, Aims. I’ll call in sick if you need to talk or shop, or even just walk in the park.”
Amy smiled. “Sorry for ignoring you lately, Renee.”
“And moping, and mumbling under your breath, and staring out the window sighing and looking pathetic.” Renee stepped into the room and sat on Amy’s bed. Amy turned to look at her. “I’m kind of worried about you, Aims. And you won’t talk to me about what’s bugging you.”
“I’m sorry, Ren.”
“You don’t need to be sorry, Aims, just let me know what’s got you down.”
Amy smiled. “I’m just a little distracted, Ren. Promise.”
Renee released a deep breath as she gave a shrug of her shoulders. “Alright, but promise to talk to me if whatever it is gets worse. Okay? We’ve been friends too long to stop talking to each other now.”
“I will.”
Renee smiled as she stood. “Alright, well I better scoot. Maybe we can see a movie tonight?”
Amy nodded with a smirk. “Only if I get to choose.”
“Deal. See ya later, Aims.”
“Bye, Ren. Have fun at work.”
“No promises.”
And a few seconds later Amy heard the front door close and the deadbolt lock. Amy didn’t like the feeling that she couldn’t tell Renee about everything going on with Garret – whatever ‘everything’ was – but Renee wouldn’t have understood. Renee already had a set idea of what Garret was like.
Amy sighed as she saved what little work she’d done on her script. The phone on her desk twittered. Amy picked it up as she set to work shutting down the laptop. “Hello.”
“Hi, Aims. Did you want to have pizza for dinner tonight? I could pick up a pie on the way home.”
“How about Chinese instead?” Amy asked as she closed the laptop. “We haven’t had Chinese for a long time.”
“You know, that sounds pretty good. Anything special, or just whatever?”
“Whatever, but can you get pork fried rice instead of chicken?”
“Sure. See ya later, sweetie.”
“Bye.” Amy replaced the receiver with a sigh. It immediately rang again. “Hello.”
“Sorry, Aims. Forgot to ask you about the dry cleaning. Can you pick it up? I’ll pay you back. Promise.”
“Sure, Ren,” Amy said with a smile.
“Thanks. Bye.”
“Bye.” Amy shook her head with a chuckle as she set the phone down. It rang and Amy laughed. “Hello.”
“I swear this is the last time.”
“It’s okay, Ren. What did you need?”
“Can you drop the bills off at the mailbox? I meant to grab them, but I completely spaced it.”
“Don’t worry about it, Ren. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. See ya.”
“Bye, Ren.” Amy chuckled.
Amy replaced the receiver, waited for it to ring again, and then made her way out of her room. The phone rang just as she made her way to the couch. She sat with a quick breath and picked up the phone. “Hello.”
“Good morning, Amy. This is Garret. Have I called too early?”
Amy blinked as she sat up. “No. Renee just left for work and I was about to make myself breakfast. What’s up?”
“I’m afraid I shan’t be available to meet after all. Something has come up.”
Amy arched an eyebrow. “That’s alright, Garret. I completely understand. I had a few errands to run myself.”
There was a moment or two of silence before Garret spoke again. “I will call if there is a change in my schedule.”
“Sounds good to me. I guess I’ll talk to you later.” Amy waited for the click, but it didn’t come. “Was there something else?” Like why you’re giving me the brush off? Then again, Amy didn’t blame him. First she’d said ‘no’ to his advances, then she had practically dared him to reveal himself to possible rejection by being true to Garret Harrison and leaving Shakespeare and other poets out of the picture. “Garret? Hello?”
Click
Amy looked down at the phone with a raised eyebrow before thoughtfully replacing it on the receiver. No rehearsals for you this week, I bet. Amy sighed and went to make breakfast.