She was thrilled. What a perfect chance. She signed the contract with a happy rush of accomplishment and handed it back to her agent. She had been offered the lead outright. Her agent had told her they'd asked for her specifically first. No need to audition.
The script was gorgeous, by a new writer she'd never heard of, and she wanted to be there when he made his mark. On her mark. She'd jumped at the chance to be a part of it. She was humming with the accomplishment and wanted to savor it.
She got all the information, rehearsal schedule, contact list, waivers, contracts, the whole official shebang. Her agent had set her up for a pre-rehearsal lunch with the director and that was her next stop. No time to lose in getting the production off the ground, and apparently the director liked to get to know the cast.
She was looking forward to hear what he had to say and she took a cab to the restaurant. Reading and shuffling through papers, it was sketchy, and the cast wasn't filled in yet. It didn't matter, with a script like that, she figured she could do a good performance and shine even if her co-cast members were the dogs from the velvet poker painting.
Greeted by the hostess at the restaurant, she followed to the table, and one look at the man seated there made her smile curdle and her eyes freeze. Not her feet. She was too good at making a cue. He stood and extended his hand in greeting.
She drew a careful breath and extended her own hand, grasping his in what she could manage to make good manners. To her credit, she warmed up her eyes to "cordial" and shook his hand.
His smile was polite. His eyes were appreciative. "Hello Lauren."
Her eyes held his in a disciplined gaze. A sense of some sick joke settled in on her joy and the world got smaller, tunnel vision. He was as handsome as she had tried not to remember. Brown and golden hair, a deep tan. He had a distinctly neutral smile on his otherwise expressive face, looking at her with a polite interest that in her present state reminded me of someone in a lab coat looking at something that used to be alive under a slide.
She remembered his dark eyes, brown with flecks of green. David Fielding. She didn't have much time to think, so she stopped thinking and started acting. Breaking eye contact with a demure smile, she tilted her head slightly and said "Hello Mr. Fielding." She almost said "this is a surprise" but didn't trust her voice.
"Lauren, please, call me David. Have a seat."
She lowered herself to her chair and lifted her eyes to his again. He looked polite. She couldn't afford to be embarrassed or infuriated right now, so she wasn't. She would be charming. She opened her menu to occupy her time, but couldn't focus on anything. She thought "house salad" quickly and let the words blur before her eyes. She could get through this and she would.
He watched her in silence, his eyes taking in her features, a rich olive tone to her skin and dark hair swept back into an elegant twist. Green eyes. He knew they were green, even downcast. He'd just seen himself in them. He didn't look good, he knew. Not to her. Not now.
He still couldn't help but tease her, get her to look at him. "Lauren? See anything you like?"
Her eyes closed slowly and then opened, recognizing the comment for what it was, but unwilling to bite. "House salad, I think." She ignored his implication and since he was being obnoxious she felt slightly less vulnerable. Which was still vulnerable as hell.
"How have you been, Lauren?"
"I've been fine Mr..." His brow raised at the mister and she smiles with a little less innocence than she would have liked. "David. I'm fine."
He thought she was doing well for being in a situation that probably made her want to hide under the table. Or brain him with the water carafe. There was just no way to make this easier for her. Okay, he could have let her know ahead of time, but he had to see her face. And seeing it, he couldn't relent. Just had to get a reaction out of her. "Exactly how much do you hate this, Lauren? Sitting at a table with me?"
A short breath of frustration and she dropped her shoulders and spoke carefully. "I don't hate this. I have been offered the lead in one of your plays, I understand. That certainly comes as a surprise, but if the offer still stands, I'd like to make the best of it."
He nodded slowly. "The offer still stands. I made it myself."
"And why wouldn't you have made such an offer personally?"
"I didn't think you would accept it."
"It's a generous and tempting offer. I was happy to accept. Thank you for considering me."
"You are my first choice." Papers are already signed. He said "are" and not "were" on purpose. She deserves a few hints. Did she notice?
Of course she noticed. Her smile was still tight and getting tighter, though she has it under control for now. She's thinking of his motivations but with thoughts racing this fast she lights on one to distract herself. "I was just surprised to hear you directing, David. Are you taking a break from acting for this?"
He shakes his head slowly. "No."
"Another project, then?"
He shakes his head again. "No."
She's puzzled and looks to him to clarify.
"Lauren, I'll be playing the male lead. Opposite you."
She absorbs this slowly, and then the bottom drops out of her distance and reserve. Images of the play she adored flash through her mind and she realizes she will have to touch this man. Every night. For the run of the play. Intimacy after repeated intimacy recalls itself to her mind and she sees David and herself in an exquisitely crafted embrace, before an audience, every night...
Closing her eyes tight she grips the table and murmurs "excuse me" and lurches out of her chair. She's disoriented and her flight instinct is kicking in, but she has no idea where to flee.
David comes out of his chair and takes her elbow, which she tries to jerk back, but he won't let her. Escorting her to the Ladies' room, he saves her the embarrassment of lurching drunkenly through a restaurant. Of course, he caused that embarrassment, so he doesn't feel too proud of it. He's fairly certain she won't be thanking him.
To passersby there's a dark-haired, tall, elegant, solicitous gentleman escorting a pale lady to the restroom. Perhaps she's pregnant and ill. More than one patron turns to watch the striking couple. They look good together.
Inside the bathroom she grips the marble counter, bending her nails against the edge. There's something breaky on the counter and she grabs it and throws it against the mirror. The shattering is sickening but satisfying.
It also brings David at a run. He lets out a low whistle. "Very nice, right in the middle. Good shot."
Her breathing is hard and she says "Take it out of my first paycheck."
He shrugs. "These things happen. At least you didn't throw it at me."
Her voice is harsh. "Not the face."
The crash has brought service and maintenance people to investigate, but David handles the bill and the inconvenience while she seethes. She lets him. She's not going to apologize. Not to him, not about anything. Fallout consisting of only glass shards is restrained as far as she is concerned.
When he comes back in after having discreetly paid for a large amount of broken glass and the bill, he holds out her arm and she puts her hand on his arm and they walk out in regal silence.
"Nice one, Lauren. Maybe next time we can invite a camera crew." His voice is amused and she's infuriated.
Her hand reaches up and slaps him and he's laughing even harder. "Definitely needed a camera for that one." She swings again and he grabs her hand "Okay, okay. One for free. Not the face, you're about to break my nose."
Her voice is a low hiss. "You deserve it. You deserve worse. What is wrong with you?"
He checks his face. "Right now, my jaw hurts."
She glares.
He relents. "Lauren. I want you in this play. I think it's perfect for you. I think you're perfect for it."
"Get someone else to do the lead. Please, David. I can't..."
He steps in closer to her. "Can't what?"
Her eyes close. "I can't. This is torture, please. Don't do this. Find someone else."
He lifts her chin and says "Lauren. Look at me. There's nobody else."
"I won't do it." Then her eyes open and she looks at him.
"Yes, you will. It's perfect for you. You're perfect for this part. We can make it work."
She breathes hard and absorbs his voice, his fingers on her skin, his eyes. It was his eyes that did it, teasing, patient, and with an expression she'd been longing for. Loving. She started to cry.
He wrapped his arms around her, drew her close, and stroked her hair with her head down on his shoulder. "Lauren love. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry about everything. I'm sorry for making you cry. Please forgive me."
A few moments of crying and she stopped, one hard exhalation escapes her mouth and she raies her eyes. He's expecting them to be wide and brimming with tears, and he instead sees narrowed suspicion. Her laugh has an edge to it that makes him recalculate his expectations.
"Is that what you're looking for, David? A woman to melt in your arms?
Congratulations, you have a leading lady. Is that what you want?"
David's answer is careful and solemn. "Yes. But you-"
She cuts him off with fingers to his lips. "Not another word. No more words. I've had enough. I don't believe a damned word you say. And you shouldn't believe anything I say, either. We've both gotten too good at this."
Ignoring her admonition he kisses her fingertips and says "Too good isn't a bad thing."
Her smile is rueful. "It is when it's lying we're talking about. See you at rehearsal, David."
She tries to pull back, but his grip tightens on her and he says lightly "But you got to slap me. I even held still for it. Hold still."
He bends in to kiss her and she starts to struggle, anything to escape, and his arms tighten around her more. "Hold still, Lauren, or I swear...I won't just kiss you, I'll tickle you and then I'll kiss you."
Her eyes are cold but starting to thaw with humor. "This dress won't take tickling."
He considers "I'll pay for the dress. I'll pay for hurting you. I'm sorry."
Her head shakes sadly. "I can't do this, David. I can't. You have to find someone else. Please."
His voice teases "You're going to ruin your career? Over me? Over a kiss?"
Her voice brightens "I know! I'll sue you for sexual harassment in the workplace. I can ruin your career over a kiss instead."
His head tilts. "Ramping up negotiations. Okay. No tickling if there are no lawyers. Deal?"
Her lips twitch. His voice lowers. "All right. I'm going to kiss you. Nod if you won't slap a restraining order on me for that. I want to make sure my professional judgment is sound."
