by J. J. Bella
"Well," said Liam. "Unless there's anything else to discuss, I'm eager to get things going."
Simon and Liam arranged a meeting to put things in writing and Rory bid farewell to the McDonnell brothers. Just like that, it was only the four of us.
"Shall we?" asked Liam, gesturing to the door.
I nodded sheepishly, still not sure of how to handle this situation. Part of me wanted to run screaming to the elevator and back to my dinky little apartment in Queens, putting a pillow over my head and hoping against hope that this was all some bizarre dream. Instead, I walked with Liam and the McDonnells to the elevator, then down to the streets below where Liam's car, a sleek, silver Mercedes, was waiting for us. A driver stood in front of the car, opening the spacious back cab for us we approached.
I couldn't believe that this car apparently belonged to Liam. Liam, that same man I knew six years ago who I'd seen scrounge through the pockets of his dirty jeans for enough spare change to buy a six-pack of cheap beer, that same man for who paying bills and rent on time was as fanciful and absurd as the idea of sprouting wings and flying to the moon. I'd never known him as anything other than a slacker, and now, years later, here he was with not only car that cost more than I'd be lucky to make in the next few years, but his own film production company! How did he do it?
We slid into the back of the car, into a limousine-like area with two seats of soft, rich leather that faced one another. There was a small bar, and a TV on mute was on behind where the brothers sat across from me. Liam took the seat next to me, of course, and put enough space between the two of us that one would never guess that we had some previous level of familiarity. As the driver shut the door, I couldn't help but wonder what this drive would be like if the McDonnells weren't in the car with us.
The drive passed quickly, Liam asking the brothers about their lives in Chicago. The two brothers were the loquacious type and had no problems talking about themselves at great, almost intolerable length. They yakked and they yakked, discussing what it was like to grow up as two gay twins in a blue-collar, working-class neighborhood. The two brothers had their charm, but they reminded me of the dramatic guys from Hell's Kitchen that Sophia was always partying with. Fun in small doses, but tending towards a little exhausting.
Soon, we arrived at Liam's building, another one of the massive glass towers that were packed into the Midtown area. A trip through the lobby and up the elevators later we arrived at the offices for Throne Pictures. As old-fashioned as the office for the second floor of Bronzeplate were, Liam's office was modern and sleek. Lots of clean white surfaces, minimalist décor, and large windows that afforded plenty of natural light. And above the wide, black reception desk were the words "Thorne Pictures" in crisp, bold letters. I simply couldn't believe that this had all been built by the same Liam who I knew.
We made our way through the offices, Liam saying his hellos and introducing the McDonells to the various stylishly-dress, hip members of his staff. I couldn't help but note that he didn't introduce me. I mean, sure, I was just an assistant, but still. It felt as though he was purposefully snubbing me.
Soon, we arrived at Liam's office, which was just as trendy and modern as the rest of the floor. Tall, square windows looked out over the city, and a small meeting area of dark black chairs was in the middle of the room, arranged on a circular black rug.
"Let's have a seat here,' said Liam, gesturing to the chairs.
We all took our seats, and Liam began.
"Ah, Miss Hunter," said Liam, speaking to me but not looking at me, "I trust you'll be taking notes on our conversation?"
What? I thought. How far is he going to be taking this "pretending not to know me" thing?
I mean, I get not gushing over one another like a couple of high school girls seeing each other after summer break, but was he really going to act like we'd really just met?
"Oh," I said, taking my laptop out of my bag. "Of course."
I pulled my computer open and sat at the ready.
"So," said Liam, "the McDonnell brothers. I hear you two are ready to unseat the Coens."
"Oh, I don't know about that," said Clive, tucking a stray strand of curly brown hair behind his ear and looking away in false modesty.
"Though who knows if there's room in Hollywood for two sets of screenwriting brothers," said Adam, his hands folded on his tightly-crossed legs.
"Who's to say," said Liam, his voice calm, professional, and heavy with gravitas. "With the talent I see in your script…the sky's the limit, in my opinion."
The brothers exchanged a glace, lapping up the praise.
I just couldn't get over that this was the same man, the same Liam. I looked around the ultra-modern office, comparing it in my mind to that dirty bedroom where we'd spent so much time. I was half expecting to spot a pile of empty Miller bottles shoved away behind some expensive piece of furniture.
The three of them went into business, throwing around names of directors and actors. They talked at a quick pace, and I did all I could to get all the names and ideas down. They discussed shooting locations, all agreeing that it would take place in the city. Jace Landau came up as the lead, naturally, and I winced upon hearing the name, the coffee incident still fresh in my mind. Though part of me would happily trade that situation for what I was dealing with now.
After an hour or so, my fingers were screaming from the furious pace of typing. The meeting seemed to be drawing to a close, and I was happy to be done. The McDonnells had plenty of ideas, but they were just so high energy that I was drained just from listening to them talk. I couldn't help but imagine what a set with them and Jace would be like. Thankfully, Liams' calm seemed to balance things out.
The three of them wrapped things up, and with handshakes all around, the McDonnell brothers headed out, Liam leading them to the elevators and me toddling close behind. I knew that Liam and I would soon be alone, an anxiety welled in my stomach in anticipation of catching up with him.
But once the elevator doors closed, Liam walked to me and simply said this:
"Miss Hunter, go over the names we discussed, check their availability and their previous salaries. I expect a report for each of the directors and actors discussed in anticipation of my next meeting with the McDonnells."
Then, he turned to the receptionist, a pretty brunette with bright red lips and a hip, shoulder-length haircut.
"Missy, please show Miss Hunter to an office space that she can use during her time working with us."
"Of course, Mr. Thorne."
"I expect all of this to be ready by noon tomorrow," he said.
And with that, he was off. I watched him walk away, my mouth opened slightly. I couldn't believe that he'd talked to me as though I were just any other bottom-rung assistant.
"Don't worry about it," said Missy, standing next to me and watching Liam walk off. "He has that effect on all of us. I think when I first met him my mouth was hanging open just like yours is now."
"No, I mean, it's because, um," I said, wanting to explain myself, but also not feeling like spilling the beans on my relationship with Liam to some random girl was the best course of action.
"I'm Missy," she said, extending a slim hand to me. "You need anything, just like me know."
"Thanks," I said, shaking her hand.
"Come with me; I'll take you to your office."
We walked through the hallways of office, soon arriving at a small room that was empty aside from a small desk. It was a great space, even having a pair of modestly-sized windows that looked out onto the city. Well, looked out onto the skyscraper next to us, to be more accurate. It wasn't amazing, but it beat the hell out of the shitty little cubicle at Bronzeplate.
"We just let someone go, so you have set up shop in here for the time being," said Missy. "Internet password's in the desk, and feel free to help yourself to anything in the break room. Again, you need anything just let me know."
"Thanks…" I said again, my voice trailing off as I stood
at the entry to the office.
Missy took her leave, and I was alone. I sat down at the desk, finally having a chance to think about the events of the last few hours. I couldn't –could not- believe that not only had I bumped into Liam Thorne after so long, I was also going to be working with him for the next several months. It was beyond surreal.
I pulled out my computer and connected to the Wi-Fi, but realized quickly that I was going to need a minute to clear my head before I could hope to get any work done. I found my way to the break room, which was stocked full of just about every trendy snack bar and fruit smoothie beverage that was in existence. I grabbed some bottle of green stuff out of the fridge and looked around. It beat the hell out of the Bronzeplate break room of a few plastic tables and usually-broken vending machines.
Standing around for a little while, I realized that I'd, in the back of my head, been hoping that Liam would emerge from his office and come talk to me. This was such a strange circumstance, and I couldn't figure out why he was treating me like someone he'd never met before. Was he embarrassed that he once dated some small town girl like me? Maybe now that he was in New York, probably dating a different model or up-and-coming actress every week; it seemed entirely possible that I just didn't register on his radar any longer. I sipped my drink, watching the stylish men and women of the office zip here and there, and when I'd finally calmed down, I headed back to the office and went to work.
It was slow-going and very tedious work. I had to prepare a little something for each of the people that the three of them had discussed, and writing the page or two for each director about their work history and what sort of projects they were or weren't currently in the middle of felt like being in elementary school and putting together a report about a president or something. Still, it was far better work than the usual coffee-grabbing and print-making that I'd been doing under Mr. Cohn. And despite the strange circumstances, I knew that working with the head of a production company on a project like this would be an amazing stepping stone for me. It might even make my career.
I put my head down and worked, the day flying by and the offices emptying more and more by the hour. By the time eight arrived I was finally done, and as if reading my mind, I received a text from Sophia asking me if I wanted to grab a drink. I responded with exactly what I felt, which was that there wasn't anything that I wanted more. When I got up to leave, I cast a glance at Liam's office. A soft glow under the cracks of the door let me know that he was still there, but I didn't feel up to turning in my reports now and having to talk to him one-on-one; the last time was just too strange.
An hour later, I was with Sophia at some hipster bar in Astoria, one of those places that looks like somewhere you'd find working-class blue-collar guys but actually had nothing but indie rock on the jukebox and bartenders with fancy mustaches. Oh, and the drinks were all at least ten dollars.
"You're fucking kidding me," said Sophia.
"Not even a little," I said, setting down my vodka martini, the alcohol calming my nerves
"So, six years later, and there he is, the slacker boyfriend from Missouri?"
I nodded, the words still sounding strange to my ears.
"Except he's not a slacker anymore," I said. "He sounded one of the hottest indie film production companies in New York."
Sophia's eyes narrowed.
"Think about what he's worth," she said now glancing away as if daydreaming.
I couldn't help but smile; figured that Sophia would bring this back to hooking a wealthy man.
"You have a picture of him?" she said, taking a sip of her drink. "I mean, you've mentioned this guy I passing before, but I don't think you've ever showed me what he looked like."
"Um, I think so," I said, pulling out my phone.
I flipped through my pictures, going back years. Luckily, I'd been pretty diligent about backing everything up, so I was able to find them without too much fuss. I pulled up one of my favorite pictures of Liam and me, the two of us sitting together, Liam's cocky smile on his face as his arm was wrapped around my shoulders and bringing me in close, a wide, beaming smile on mine.
Jeez, I thought, when's the last time I smiled like that?
"Daaaamn,' said Sophia. "You got some taste, girl."
"He was, like, the ultimate townie stud- motorcycle, knew where all the best parties were, all that. But he just wasn't going anywhere with his life, and I didn't want to get pulled down with him."
"Well, if he's the one with his own company, I'm not sure how much pulling down he would've done."
I pursed my lips; she was right. Did I make the mistake of all mistake by dropping Liam? Who knows where I'd be now if it weren't for him.
"Wait a minute," said Sophia, shoving her hands into her purse and pulling out her iPad. "He looks familiar…"
She pulled up the headshots that we'd been ogling over the other day, stopping at the one that I'd noticed too- the one with the actor and the other man who looked strangely familiar standing next to one another at some awards show.
"Yep," she said, grabbing my phone and holding it up next to the picture.
It was Liam, alright.
"Dude cleans up nice," said Sophia.
She was right. In the picture of Liam with me, his golden hair was in a messy shag, his face was dusted with two days' worth of stubble, and he was dressed in a casual flannel and jeans, a pair of black Vans completing the look. And in the picture of him with the actor he looked more as I saw him today: his hair in a tight, short style, his handsome face shaved clean, and his clothes looking less "Gap clearance" and more "Tom Ford." It was no wonder that I couldn't recognize him right away in the picture.
"And he was a jerk to you today?" asked Sophia, flagging down the bartender with a wink and ordering another round of drinks.
"I mean, kind of. He didn't even acknowledge who I was. I mean, we didn't have much time alone together, but he treated me like I was some flunky he'd just met."
"Weird," said Sophia. "Maybe he was getting back at you. You know, for breaking up with him."
That didn't sound right to me. I mean, Liam did have a hard edge to him at times, but only when he had to stick up for himself…or me. But for the most part, he was a stand-up guy; being petty like that just didn't strike me as his style.
"I don't know…" I said, trailing off.
Sophia didn't seem to listen; she was too busy going through her iPad, checking out pictures of Liam that she'd found online.
"Guy gets around," she said, showing me her results, which was picture after picture of Liam at some awards show or another, dressed to the nines, a beautiful girl at his side.
"Looks like he hasn't just done better than me in his career…" I said, his success in his love life on full display.
"Come on, you've dated guys…wait, have you?" asked Sophia, wracking her brain.
"Not a one," I said.
Sophia's mouth dropped slightly.
"You haven't dated a single guy since you've been with Liam?"
I shook my head, ashamed.
"I mean, after Liam my main goal was to get my life on track. I just put my head down and put every last bit of time and energy I had into school- no parties, no nothing. Then grad school was next, then here. It all went by so fast."
"That's, um," said Sophia.
"Totally pathetic?" I said, finishing her thought.
"No, no, no," she said, her mind appearing to be in overdrive as she attempted to put a positive spin on this sorry little detail. "I mean, it's good! No guy wants a girl who's got a ton of notches on her bedpost from endless partying in college."
"Thanks," I said, the statement only a small consolation.
"Oh, cheer up," said Sophia. "Trust me, girl- you're a total catch. Maybe you and Liam an even…you know."
"Oh, stop," I said.
The idea was so strange to me. I'd forever associated Liam with a life I'd left behind, and the fact that he was back and more successful than I'd imagined was ju
st too much to process. Finishing my drink, I took a sip from the fresh one that Sophia had ordered, my mind now racing with thoughts of the man I'd left behind, now back in my life after all these years.
7
It was early the next evening, and the events of the day weighed heavily on my mind, with Sophia taking the front and center position. She'd been busy on the reports that I'd assigned her to put together and I'd been out of the office, so the issue of us working together, and just how that would go, had been put off for one day. But as I looked over my schedule or the next month, filling in the appointments and meetings that it would take to get this project off the ground, I realized that she and I would be joined at the hip until this film got out the door.
How that would go, I had scarcely an idea.
Yesterday I'd chosen to keep things a little cold and distant between us; it only seemed prudent treat her like any other employee until I decided just how I wanted to handle our working relationship. Not to mention that sharing our history right then and there would have been quite unprofessional, to say the least.
But as I looked over all that I had in front of me, it was clear that having an assistant who could be at my beck and call twenty-four hours a day was going to be essential. I took a slow sip of my red wine, allowing myself to take this rare opportunity to decompress before beginning work for the evening.
Before too long, however, the low chiming of a call from the front desk brought me back to reality. I wondered who could be visiting.
Then I remembered.
I pressed down on the intercom on my desk and spoke.
"Yes?" I asked.
"Good evening, Mr. Thorne. You daughter's here."
"Send her up," I said, taking my finger off of the intercom button.
I scolded myself for forgetting that this was the evening that Olivia was coming for the week. Sure, I'd had more than enough work to keep me occupied, but forgetting about my parental obligations had been happening with alarming frequency these days. I'd always told myself that all of this, the company, the money, was for her, and it was true. But at times I found myself wondering if living a more modest lifestyle that might allow me more time to spend with Olivia would be better for both of us in the long run than spending nearly all my working hours providing her with a lifestyle that deprived her of her father.