Aaron
The white and black décor at Spago perfectly sums up how I feel. Bleak and cold.
It’s fitting that the world around me starts to project my inner turmoil.
How fucking poetic.
Ironic that a producer would grasp on this moment and take advantage. Illuminating its symbolism, texture, depth…blah, blah.
It’s fucking annoying, and I’m not in the mood.
Usually, I would be fucking exhilarated noticing these details…as I often am with this place. But now, sitting here with the guys, I wallow in my self-pity.
How in the fuck did I get here? I’m pissed at myself for allowing it to happen—to flirt with temptation and then, fall for it. I should’ve listened to her. Avoided her and kept my distance.
But nope. I had to let my dick get the better of me.
She knew all along that it was dangerous for us to pretend. But like an idiot, I thought I was immune to pretending, seeing as I do it professionally.
And then I had to break her.
Successfully distracting me, Jesse congratulates me on my project.
“Man, I’m jealous. This project sounds fucking amazing. It’s going to be a big fucking deal,” he says while cutting up his sirloin.
Jesse knows his shit, having been in the industry for a while. He’s directed and produced a fair number of respected films.
So, the fact that he calls my project a big deal means a lot.
“Thanks. It’ll definitely be something. I’m excited,” I respond, not wanting to talk it up too much.
My typical self would be smug as fuck, rubbing their faces in how amazing this project really is.
But I knew from the moment I said yes, it was different. I felt different then and still does now.
I’m happy about it—don’t get me wrong. It’ll be a huge fucking deal and hopefully, it’ll transform my career. And if it all goes well, I’ll actually start getting the respect I deserve.
But I’m still reeling from my past mistakes…unrelated to my career.
“It takes a lot of guts to do what you’re doing. I’m not sure I would even have the guts to do it,” Luke chimes in. “And you know me, I love risks. I couldn’t live without the threat of failing and losing everything.”
We all burst into laughter, acknowledging the bitter truth in his statement.
Last year, Luke almost went bankrupt because of one of his projects. We had to come to his rescue a few times, but it worked out for him—two houses and three cars-type good.
Fucking bastard.
Though I don’t have much to complain about in terms of money…yet.
I mull over all the potential risks I’ve put myself in recently.
And it’s daunting. I’ve never been one to take such dangerous risks.
At least not knowingly.
As I check them all off in my head, tension builds, and a throbbing pain stabs my temples.
Fucking hell.
I need a drink…it’ll help numb the pain.
“Dude, chill out. You need a fucking drink or something. I can tell you’re freaking the fuck out,” Jesse says, always so keen on reading people—indie directors seemingly are.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll take a tequila shot, though. Might as well drink the top-shelf liquor while I still can,” I laugh, covering up my rising anxiety, especially once I realize that might be my reality soon.
“Shut the fuck up, Aaron!” Jesse yells. “You’ll be fucking fine. Get over yourself. This is probably the fucking Titanic of your career.”
I laugh. I do have to appreciate him being blunt.
Despite his brief annoyance, Jesse is the one who orders us all a round of tequila shots.
“I give you props for doing it. It’s a gutsy move, and you deserve it. It’s doesn’t surprise me though, I knew you had this in you,” Luke says, swigging back his tequila and sucking his lime.
“Here! here!” Jesse cheers, lifting his shot.
I swallow the liquid in honor of this damn project, silently praying that it all works out the way I planned, unlike the other plans I’ve made.
Jesse and Luke start talking about who the fuck knows what, and I fade out.
The warmth of the tequila eases my nerves a bit, and I finish my fillet, appreciating its raw consistency. Looking around me, observing the other diners—the annoying happy lot of them—I see a woman with blonde hair, eerily resembling...
My breath hitches, and my heart stops for a second.
Blinking, the woman comes into focus… and she’s very much not her.
What the hell? What’s wrong with me?
It’s not like there’s a shortage of blondes in Beverly Hills, so I don’t know why the fuck I thought that one reminded me of her.
Calm the fuck down.
I take a sip of my beer, hoping that’ll help.
No change. But, maybe getting a nice daytime buzz will soothe these nerves.
It couldn’t fucking hurt.
I settle on that plan and start chugging my craft pale ale like I’m doing a fucking keg stand.
“You alright?”
Just as I’m almost finished, Luke distracts me with his badgering. Fuck…so close.
“You’re quiet,” he continues, his tone getting way too serious, “and you’re obviously dead set on drinking yourself to oblivion.”
“Yeah…I’ve never seen you like this. It’s awkward,” Jesse adds.
Fuck, I didn’t realize I was being obvious. Sure, I was drinking before five but that’s nothing new, everyone drinks at lunch.
But they’re right. I’m not myself. I’m usually more into scotch, for starters.
I steady myself, knowing exactly what I have to do and say. I fucking hate this.
I admit it…
I fell for her. And I can’t stop fucking thinking about her.
Then, I broke her heart. I could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice.
In that goddamn resort lobby, I could feel it, as clearly as I’ve felt anything.
She wasn’t—we weren’t—supposed to feel anything.
That wasn’t part of the plan.
From the first moment, I was well aware that it wasn’t part of the plan. I’d go so far as to say avoiding feelings was part of the plan—like it always is.
And now I’m here, fighting and torturing myself.
Because fuck the fucking plan.
“Aaron?” Jesse asks, concern etched on his face.
I slam my fist on the table, making a louder sound than I intended, but I don’t fucking care.
“It’s her. It’s been her this whole fucking time!”
I’m screaming. The whole restaurant turns their attention towards me.
The guys are stunned—as in mouths agape—staring, there may even been a gasp or two.
This isn’t a group of guys easily stunned. But, I’ve never proclaimed anything like this before—to them or to myself.
Honestly, I’ve never had these feelings for anyone—feelings so strong that any attempt I make to deny them withers under their power.
“I can’t keep it to myself any longer. I had to tell someone.”
“Looks like you told the restaurant,” Jesse says, looking around him, nervously laughing.
I lower my voice, so that only they can hear me.
“Uh, yeah. Whatever. I just feel sick, physically sick, from keeping it in.”
Luke grins at me, overly enthusiastic and beaming with happiness. He’s always been a proponent of true love and happily-ever-afters, as he’s been married for a decade.
“So, who is she?” he asks, both their interests now piqued.
I take my last sip of beer, knowing I need its support to relive this—our—story.
Agonizingly, I begin by recapping every event of our week together, from meeting Macy, to arguing with her, to the unbelievable fucking time we had while stranded, including the occasional flowery detail that makes them roll their eyes.
Just when I’m on the verge of losing my audience, I conclude with the cabana.
“I made love to her,” I admit, a rare anxiety radiating from me.
“Wait, did you say love?” Luke asks, excitement in his eyes.
Jesse looks between Luke and me, and his mouth drops. “You love this girl? You fucking love this…Macy?”
Shit, I wasn’t ready for that question. I just admitted it to myself mere seconds ago, and I used it in a very different context.
But yeah, I guess I do. I love her.
“Love…” I grimace, feeling the word out on my tongue.
I take a deep breath and feel my emotions and vulnerability getting the best of me.
“Yeah, I think so. Fuck, I do.”
I pause, trying to soak in all the revelations and feelings rushing through me, overwhelmingly.
“I need to tell her that, let her know how I feel. But it’s too late. I fucked it up…like always. And now, she’s back in New York.”
“Wait, New York? What about the premiere next week? Are you planning on bringing anyone?” Luke sounds so eager and optimistic, it’s like he’s living on a different planet.
“To be honest, I totally forgot about the premiere. Let alone bringing a date to it,” I admit, sinking into my grief.
“Well, you have to be there. It’s your movie after all. Bring Macy,” Jesse says, so damn nonchalantly.
“I can’t just bring her like that. I know I’m the last person she wants to see or talk to!”
“Wouldn’t be a bad idea to just ask…you never know,” Luke says, shrugging his shoulders.
Admittedly, he’s right. I actually don’t know, though I can assume.
I think about the ways I could get her there and come up empty handed.
I do want her to see it—no, I need her to see it.
Even if she never wants to talk to me again, I would at least be able to rest knowing she saw the movie and knows how I feel. That’s all I really care about.
Most importantly though, I want her to see what she has the power to create and inspire through film. After all, it’s her and our time together that inspired what this movie eventually became.
And I fought fucking hard to make it a reality.
Her being at the premiere makes sense. She deserves that much, especially after what I put her through.
But I can’t just show up at her door and ask her to the premiere, like a fucking idiot.
“I highly doubt she’ll go with me to see it,” I mutter, ashamed that I’m thinking about giving up.
“There are many ways to invite her,” Luke suggests with a sparkle in his eye.
He stares at Jesse, and his subtle smile grows into a wicked grin.
“What are you thinking?” I ask him, fear and excitement creeping through me.
It’s a fucking odd sensation.
“Don’t worry, there are ways we can get the invitation to her…without your name ever being mentioned,” he chuckles.
Jesse turns to me. “Yeah, your name never has to come up. There are couriers…a bike messenger could deliver anywhere in the city in like ten fuckin’ minutes. We’ll get her an invitation. We got your back, man.”
“Scout’s honor!” Luke laughs.
Damn, he’s so fucking cheesy. But it at least he gives me some hope.
“Alright…I’ll think about it. Or at least I’ll think about what we should do. I have to tell her how I feel. I hate knowing that she’s out there thinking something completely opposite of the truth…”
Finishing our meal, I get a little more anxious, thinking that now, this could possibly happen.
And I try to reassure myself that no matter what, I’ll tell Macy how I feel. Whether it’s from me personally or from the movie when she sees it. Macy will know what she means to me.