NATALIE

Max has worked around my schedule, only showing impatience once over the last couple of weeks when I couldn’t meet with him for three days straight.

We did crew interviews at his loft, and have gathered who we need. It was interesting meeting people who work behind the scenes. Some were clearly not good candidates—odd how they weren’t the least bit prepared or even on time.

I love Rain, the cinematographer, also called the Director of Photography—D.P. for short. He laughed a lot and with the talent he showed in that film Max showed me, plus a couple others he pointed us to, I’m excited he’ll be behind the camera.

A few locations have been locked down, too. Max and I drove around Atlanta discussing scenes in his script, debating if this park had the right vibe, or if that underpass suited the tone for when the lead characters meet a drug dealer there, when things begin to turn bad.

Now we’re on our way to his cousin’s apartment to talk with Eric about using it for one of the first scenes. I’m sipping the pumpkin spiced latte Max brought me when he picked me up. I made sure A.J. wouldn’t be home. It’s been a nail-biting balancing act. Sitting in his Jeep I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t ask to come into my apartment. He’s been so great about respecting my space…and hasn’t touched me. That part I’m having a tough time with.

I said I wanted to keep things platonic, but spending all this time with him under these conditions—hashing out ideas and solving problems—it’s been stimulating on many levels. Even without the excitement of being a part of something so new, I’d crave his touch.

I’ve been watching my back, and I wish I could lean into him. Hide in his arms for a while.

There have been so many lingering glances. He always opens the doors for me and insists on helping me out of his Jeep, which feels comforting considering the secret I’m carrying.

But I have to take his hand during those moments and it’s gotten to the point where I don’t want to let go. Such a struggle to remain distant on the outside when on the inside I’m anything but.

Paul asks about him, has on several occasions. My nonchalance has been convincing as I’ve repeatedly lied to his slimy face. I dropped the project. No, I haven’t heard from him. I keep telling you I’m not working for anyone but you, Paul. I love it here.

“This is the place,” Max ducks his head to look up at the skyscraper through his windshield, green eyes catching in the sunlight. “Wren should be here, too.”

“Is that his wife?”

“Yeah, I officiated the ceremony.”

Surprised I ask, “You married them?”

“Don’t look so shocked,” he chuckles, jumping out of the Jeep and walking around. Opening my door he offers me his hand and teases, “I’m not the devil. I just fuck like him.”

A grin flashes as I place my hand on his and climb down. “Thank you for the reminder.”

Max gazes down in my eyes, smiling, “Anytime.”

We stare at each other a hot beat, and I step around him and tilt my head to check out the building, and catch my breath.

“This is nice,” I offer with as much casual friendliness as I can muster.

“Yeah, I don’t know if you know, but Eric’s kind of important.”

Chuckling, I follow him to the entrance. Max holds the door and we walk into a shiny lobby with modern chandeliers and a directory. “You have to buzz him or something?”

“This’ll be a pain in the ass on the day of shooting until everyone gets upstairs.” He pushes a button and we wait.

“Max, that you?”

“Hey, Eric, yeah. We’re down in the lobby.”

“Come on up!” The elevators whoosh open and the buzz of the speaker silences.

He takes my hand and leads me. This is new, we don’t walk around holding hands. As we step onto the car he sees me watching him and blinks to our hands, letting go and running his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I was doing that.”

“It’s okay,” I mumble, chewing my lip and holding my latte with both hands. “So the elevator opens when he pushes a button from his apartment?”

“And that’s the only time it will go up, too. They have a fob that senses them getting on it.”

“How safe is that, though, when you’re running in an emergency and you forget your fob?”

“All the elevators go down no problem. It’s the going up that needs clearance.”

“Huh,” I nod with approval. Another whoosh and we’re standing in an entrance hallway with only one option. “This is their floor, just theirs?”

Max chuckles, “Must be nice to be the Falcons’ star player, right?”

“I love your place.”

He locks eyes with me, smile fading. “Thank you. I like it, too.” His gaze drops to my bottom lip because I was biting it and didn’t know. “Did I tell you it used to be my dad’s when he was my age?”

“Really?”

“He and my mom fell in love there. I’ll tell you their story sometime.”

The door opens and that famous smile beams at us under damp and wavy chestnut brown hair, matching eyes sparkling with happiness at greeting family. “Max! Sorry to make you wait out here. I had to get some clothes on. Just took a shower. Hi, you must be the amazing producer my cousin told me about! I’m Eric.”

Charmed and grateful he’s such an open guy, I shake his hand to introduce myself, “Natalie Noe, nice to meet you.”

“Great to meet you, too, Natalie. Come in, come in!” He waves us inside a beautiful space with floor to ceiling windows so high above Atlanta that we’re presented with a spectacular view. “So what’s this scene you want to film here? Are we talking lights, huge crew, what?”

As I scan the apartment standing by his side, Max’s body is relaxed, arms crossed and weight rolling on his heels as he explains, “No, this won’t be like the photo shoots you’ve been on, Eric. The crew is only like five people. Not a ton of set up. But it’s a party scene so there will be a lot of extras.”

“Background,” I correct him with a smile.

He grins to Eric, “That’s right, their title changed to background like thirty years ago, but we still call them extras if we’re not careful. Stupid that they switched it. Both sound bad, you know?” He glances to me and I nod. “Anyway, they’re all my film school buddies who will be the background players. They’ll respect your space more than normal people who don’t know what it’s like to have to clean up after a shoot and break down all the equipment. Mind if I look around?”

“Go right ahead.” Eric sweeps his million-dollar hand through the air. Glancing behind me his eyes light up. “Wren!”