“Fancy? I’m not fancy!” I laugh.
He shrugs. “If you say so.” But he grins as if he knows better.
“Which should we try first?” I ask.
“Oh, they’re all for you.”
I lift the passion fruit carefully out of the box and nibble on the edge. “Mmm, it’s so good,” I say, closing my eyes. When I open them, he’s watching me so I slowly run my tongue across my bottom lip, catching the stray crumbs.
I’m flirting with him and I really should know better since technically I’m working.
“What?”
“You’re different than I expected,” he says.
“Really? How? And don’t say fancy.”
“Softer, prettier.” He tilts his head to the side. “You seem all right.”
“You sound surprised about that. What did you expect, an Amazonian woman with a cross bow prepared to hunt you down?”
He laughs. “No but that’s a great image. My limited experience with the media is that they’re rough around the edges”—his expression hardens—“and very pushy.”
“I’m sorry that’s been your experience. I’m not like that,” I say softly.
“I sensed that when we talked. It’s the only reason I agreed to meet you. I had a feeling. I mean you were a little pushy, but not too much.”
I laugh and he grins.
“Well as long as I wasn’t too pushy! Besides, if you keep spoiling me with macaroons I may very well lose my edge completely.”
I hold out the yellow macaroon to him. “Why don’t you try this? It’s heavenly.”
“No, no… they’re for you. Besides, I’m good with my coffee.”
“Okay, but you’re missing out,” I say, taking another bite.
“Not really. It’s sweeter watching you enjoy it,” he says with a quiet smile.
“You aren’t quite what I expected either,” I admit.
“How so? Wait… If you researched me, you saw the Larchmont Chronicle article. I bet you thought I’d be wearing the Christmas tree sweater, right?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“That woman pushed me unrelentingly until I agreed to wear it for one photo. I did it just to shut her up. Of course that’s the photo they used for the story. I’ll never be that stupid again.”
“Did the sweater really light up?”
“Yeah, it had a battery pack and everything. You could make the lights blink together like a strobe light or sporadically. It was idiotic. I’m still mad for agreeing to wear that thing but the story was just for our local paper. I thought what’s the harm, but I forgot that everything lives forever on Google.”
I smile. “Yes, it does.”
“So I was right… you assumed I was a super freak.”
“Not a super freak… just passionate about your interests.” I stretch the truth to keep from hurting his feelings. I like this guy and have a strong desire to win him over.
“Well I can’t argue with that. I’m most definitely passionate about my interests.”
“And because I think you’re interesting, I’m sure other people would find you interesting too,” I say.
“I don’t care who besides you in this equation finds me interesting.” He gives me a coy look.
No one besides me? Is he flirting too? I try to narrow my focus, or I’ll never convince him.
“We all have our things, Will, our stories, our passions that make each of us unique. Yours is especially unique, and I’d love to have the chance to tell it to the world.”
“Careful, you are making reality TV sound too good to be true.”
“I don’t know about that. Why can’t the good stuff be true? I was a documentary film major in college. There’s such a challenge in documentaries to portray the subject accurately, with dignity, and be entertaining in a compelling way. I carry those ideals into my TV work.”
“I bet though in your current field you are more the exception than the rule.”
I shrug. “Maybe. I can only be accountable for my own work. I went to a retrospective of Haskell Wexler’s work last weekend. Are you familiar with him?”
Will shakes his head.
“He’s one of most highly regarded documentary filmmakers in history. There’s so much truth and beauty in his work it takes my breath away.”
He folds his arms over his chest and smiles. Perhaps he came into this meeting thinking I was a pleasant but tacky producer. Hopefully I’ve convinced him I’m anything but, and I push some more.
“Will, wouldn’t it be great to show on film the beauty and soul of your holiday masterpiece? People would love your story and why you do what you do.”
“Really,” he says as if he doesn’t believe me. “You’re not just charming me?”
“Yes, I promise. I’d truly love to understand more of what motivates you.”
He lifts his coffee nestled between his two hands. I sense he’s not going to spill out his secrets if I bat my eyelashes. No, he’s going to be a challenging nut to crack, but truly understanding our subjects is one of my strengths.
Whoever Will appears to be isn’t at all what I expected. I’ve never been more curious to figure someone out. He’s a puzzle of perfect pieces that don’t fit together.
He finally speaks up. “So this is going to sound corny, but I think you may understand. There’s something out there… a kind of magic or whatever… it’s different things for different people, maybe a great movie or concert, but whatever it is can distract you from the rough stuff in life. So, if it’s there… why wouldn’t we surround ourselves with it if we could? Why wouldn’t we want it always around?”
Is this guy for real? I sense this idea is true for some part of him, but there’s much more to what he does than he’s admitting. I’m more determined than ever to figure out why.
“Do you understand?” he asks, looking tentative but hopeful.
“I do,” I say and he relaxes.
I take a long sip of tea, and I wonder what kind of hardship could’ve been in Will’s life to inspire him to want every day to be Christmas. What’s he hiding? It pulls at my heart, and I find strength in his expression. Whatever it is or was, he appears to have a handle on it. Not every reality show candidate has to be broken, do they?
“What are you thinking?” Will asks.
“I appreciate your motivation,” I say thoughtfully even if it’s only part of my reaction to what he shared.
He chuckles. “Well that right there puts you way ahead of the crowd.”
I nibble off the edge of the macaroon before asking, “So, will you show me your house? Steph said you’ve already started setting up the front rooms for this holiday season.”
“Yeah, I like to spread out the setting up and tearing down. I enjoy it more that way.”
He studies me for a minute and then smiles. “So, you want to come by just to see it? I’m not promising anything. Are you okay with that?”
“Okay… just to see it. I’ll share a secret with you.”
He leans forward, a playful smile on his face. “Yes?”
“I’m a Christmas junkie. Honestly. I’ve collected ornaments and Santa figurines since I was twelve. I think I was an elf in a past life.” I blush with the admission. “I have a storage unit because I don’t have enough room in my apartment for all of it.”
He leans all the way back in his chair and takes a deep breath. Something in his eyes gives me hope that I’ll have a chance to work with him.
“I promise, Sophia, you won’t be disappointed.”
Chapter Three
“Oh my!” My mouth drops open and I’m filled with childlike wonder as Will leads me into his house. “I mean wow!” Clearly the file didn’t do it justice. The other extreme holiday people are lightweights compared to Will. What’s up with this guy?
He laughs. He must be used to big reactions by now, and by his big grin I can see that my response delights him. He nods slowly as he surveys the room. “Well, I guess you could say tha
t I don’t do anything halfway.”
“No, you don’t. I knew the moment I saw the enchanting architecture outside that it would be special inside too, but this is over the top!” I scan the foyer of the house. Between the high-coved ceiling, elaborately carved woodwork and cascading strands of twinkle lights, I know this isn’t the average home.
The huge Christmas tree in the entryway is covered with miniature tin toys and vintage figures. It’s like Willy Wonka put on Christmas. “Is this the kids’ tree I read about? Do you still hand out ornaments to the kids after their visit?”
He laughs. “Yeah, great idea right? Until they fight over which ornament they get.”
“No, really?” I ask, horrified. Why would this guy want to deal with a bunch of annoying rude kids?
He shakes his head. “Kids can be ruthless. I once saw a little boy so pissed off that his friend got the last Batman ornament he snapped the head off his friend’s ornament and threw it in the bushes.”
“So much for holiday spirit.”
“It’s okay. The good kids always outnumber the mean ones. I was kind of a jerk when I was little, so I get it.”
I point up to the dome. “And what are all those wrapped gifts hanging from the ceiling? Are they floating? How’s that happening?”
“They’re suspended on a very fine filament that washes out in the theatrical lighting.”
“Tricky.” He’s super high tech. I’m impressed.
He grins. “Are you ready for more?”
I instinctively grab onto his arm and lean into him. “Yes, please.”
He pulls me closer.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask with a flirty smile.
“You’ll see.” He guides me forward, leading me into his living room—the winter wonderland.
“Wow!” Other than a path of hardwood floor cutting through the room, the entire room is white with silver accents. White flocked trees are scattered throughout the room and covered with white twinkly lights and silver ornaments. Projections of clouds slowly drifting across the ceiling and snow lightly falling down the wall create an effect that is ethereal, almost heavenly.
“This is stunning. You let kids into this room?” I ask, studying the very white carpet. I have to imagine he has to replace this rug frequently.
“They’re only allowed to stand on the hardwood floor when they tour. It’s easier if they aren’t touching everything. We had a kid hide under a tree once, and when the group leader finally realized he was missing and found him, he refused to come out. We changed the rules after that.”
“Oh, my.” These kids sound worse by the minute. I can’t imagine having the patience. What is he, some kind of saint?
“So, no hiding under the tree, okay? I’ve got my eye on you.” He teases.
I give him a sideways glance and coy smile. “I bet you do.”
“What’s this?” I ask, walking toward a long table against one of the walls. A collection of snow globes are arranged on the table, and they’re all snowing as if they each were just shaken. “How are they continually snowing like that?”
He grins mischievously. “Trade secret. I’m a scenic guy at a studio, mainly building sets, and I work with a lot of lighting and special effects guys. We have all kinds of tricks up our sleeves.” He leads me to the couch and when we sit down, I take it all in.
“My file says you work at Burbank Central Studio?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m sure you can blame this house being over the top on that. My grandparents were big on Christmas but this really all started on a grand scale after I worked on a film set during a Christmas themed shoot. It was an independent film and they ran out of money. So instead of some of my pay, they gave me a lot of the scenery and special effects stuff. Plus the guys I work with are always coming up with new ideas, and they find new effects and props. We help each other. One of them does a huge haunted house every Halloween and I help him with that.”
I take a fresh look at the room, realizing it all makes sense now. The rooms have a movie set feel, cleverly staged and dramatic. It goes well beyond regular decorating; this house is a stage for his ideas.
“It’s interesting you’re a scenic craftsman. I would’ve never guessed until I saw the house.” I’m intrigued.
“You sound surprised. What did you imagine I did?” he asks.
“Well, you don’t fit the builder types I’ve hired, for sure.”
“And that would be?”
I fidget for a moment, as he watches me.
“I don’t know.” I blush as I look down. “Rather forgettable. Not”—I wave at his worn jeans and fitted T-shirt—“hunky.”
He grins victoriously. “Hunky? You think I’m hunky?”
“Well, for a builder kind of guy.”
“I see, so there’s a qualifier.”
I shake my head.
“What?” he asks.
“I’m in such trouble.” I say, thinking out loud as I twist a strand of hair around my finger.
“Really? And why’s that?”
“Because I’m being so inappropriate. I’m supposed to be convincing you to be on the show, not—”
“Flirting with me?”
“Oh, God,” I whisper. “I’m that obvious?” Of course he’s right, but who wants to be reminded that they have no subtlety. I’m supposed to be a professional, after all, not some girl at a bar.
“I’m pretty sure,” he says as he stands and extends his hand to me with a wink. “Please don’t stop on my account. I like it. Here, let me show you more.”
I smooth my slacks nervously and take his hand as I stand. “By all means, show me more.”
As we enter the next room he has a faraway look in his eyes. He tucks his hands in his back pockets and smiles. “Here we have under the sea.” The walls of this room are an iridescent aqua with a glittery tree of the same color covered with ornaments of mermaids, seashells and sea horses. “This room stays decorated year round.”
“Ooooo! I love this!” I exclaim, a little confused. Maybe he’s gay after all. I mean glitter and mermaids? I love it, but what kind of guy does this?
Will nods. “Most girls love this room. It’s genetic or something. The girls I’ve met think the deep sea is romantic and swoony. If you’ve ever been scuba diving, you’d know that isn’t the case. It’s amazing but nothing like this.”
“So then, what inspired you to do a romantic under-the-sea theme?”
“Well it started out much differently. When I was, little my older brother and I used to play deep-sea diver games, looking for sunken treasure. He got the idea from a book he read.”
I point to a small treasure chest at the base of the tree spilling over with gold coins. “So, that explains the treasure chest.”
“Yes, and when I first themed this room it was much more boy oriented. I even had some sea creature models I got from the special effect guys. My brother would have loved that.”
I note the use of past tense. Was this room done in his memory?
“Then later, I had a girlfriend who loved mermaids. I think she believed she was a mermaid in a past life. She’s the one who girlified the room with all the glitter and girl stuff. Andrew would not have been amused,” he says, shaking his head. “He had a No Girls Allowed sign on his bedroom door.”
Hmm… girlfriend. He must not be gay after all. Trying to figure this guy out is wearing me out. I decide not to ask him more about his brother right now.
“So, what’s this room anyway? Was it the dining room?” I ask, changing the direction of the conversation.
“Yes, but I eat in the kitchen. I’m not really one for dinner parties or anything. Speaking of which, do you want to see the kitchen? I have to warn you though, Romeo’s in there. I’m not sure if he can be around you.”
My eyes get wide. “Around me? I think I’m pretty easy to get along with.” I try to imagine what type of person couldn’t tolerate me.
“It’s not that. Well, you’ll understand.” He a
pproaches the Dutch door into his kitchen. The bottom panel is closed, and something is frantically scratching it.
I grin with relief. “Romeo’s a dog. I love dogs! What are you worried about? Does he bite or something?”
“Not exactly. He’s not a biter. He has other issues.” Will slowly pulls open the half door. “Sophia, meet Romeo.”
He’s really cute and looks like a mutt terrier similar to Tramp from the Disney movie, Lady and the Tramp. I lean down to let the little dog sniff my hand, but he dodges it, goes straight for my leg, and humps it wildly. How annoying. I shake my leg, but he’s steadfast.
“Whoa, that was some kind of record!” Will exclaims while peeling Romeo off my leg. “He usually takes a couple of minutes or so to start up, so I wasn’t prepared to head him off at the pass. Sorry about that. I guess you’re especially appealing, and not just to the human species.”
“Lucky me!”
He turns to Romeo. “Dude, you have no class. You didn’t even buy her a drink first.”
“Very funny, a drink? You think I’m that easy,” I say with my hands on my hips.
“I didn’t mean that, just that if he were human that’s what he would’ve tried with a woman as beautiful as you. What can I say about the little guy… he’s insatiable. You should see him at the dog park.”
I make a note of his compliment before saying, “No thanks, I can already imagine.”
“That’s how he gets his name. He loves the women.”
“I can see that. He’s got quite the winning personality.”
“He sure does.” Will laughs, sets Romeo outside the kitchen, and closes the door.
“Why don’t you do your reality show about little dude instead? He loves being in front of a camera.”
“We’ll leave the dogs humping to Animal Planet, thanks.” I look at my watch. “Oh no! I’m late!”
“Something wrong?” he asks.
“Yes, I was supposed to be back at the production offices for a meeting already.”
His eyes lose their gleam and the corners of his mouth turn down. “Okay. Let me walk you out.”
By the time he gets Romeo back into the kitchen and we get to his front door, I’m disappointed to be leaving.
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