Press Release

7: Press Junket

"Jeffrey, quit being a mother hen. I'm fine," I refuse Jeffrey's offer of gum.

"I know you, H. You get nervous at press junkets. You get nervous at any social interaction. Gum helps you calm down," my manager reasonably responds.

"True," I sigh testily, "but I don't want gum right now, okay?"

Jeffrey leans back and examines me closely. We are in the hotel suite at the Four Seasons that Jeffrey requested to use during the press junket. It's a safe place to retreat from the loud voices of the reporters and the pressure of being "on" all of the time during the two days we will be running through the interviews for the movie. These days are the ones where journalists from the smaller shows and websites stream through. Today are 20 minute quickies, and usually half of that time is spent setting up equipment.

Monday we host the longer 40 minute interviews. Then on Tuesday we appear on the Late Late Show with James. I'm really not sure if I can handle three days with Xavier, but I have to admit that the little prick has been out of the public spotlight since the "fag" comment. I'd heard that the incident had been settled quietly out of court. Kudos to whoever was dealing with his press, as that's not a job I would want. Not with someone as ridiculous as my co-star.

"You're on edge, my friend," Jeffrey observes from the sofa where he's watching me. I'm wearing simple black Gucci trousers and a Yves Saint Laurent purple shirt with the first three buttons undone. "What's going on? And where did you disappear to after your party? I looked around, and you were just gone."

Looking away quickly, I swallow hard because, the truth is, my mind has been on my encounter with Olivia from that same night. Two and a half weeks ago.

I live for you. I long for you. Olivia.

"I helped Xavier get home. He'd had too much to drink." I'm only hiding some of the truth. Technically, I haven't lied to Jeffrey. I'm honestly not sure how he would react to the fact that I slept with a random stranger from my party.

"Hmmmm....speaking of your co-star, I wonder why he's not here yet. I told his publicist to meet us in the suite," Jeffrey checks his watch. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem more anxious than usual today."

"I'm fine, Jeffrey," I'm weary of this conversation. Every time we do promo for something, Jeffrey seems to think I need a babysitter. I'll be fine once we're on camera – as long as there are no stupid questions.

"Just remember to look at me when you need to be grounded. I've got your back, buddy," Jeffrey gives this speech, and I roll my eyes per usual. Inevitably, I find that I need to do exactly that -- look at Jeffrey at some point during press. Some questions annoy me, and looking at Jeffrey calms me. Seeing my friend there, smiling and nodding, gives me the courage and peace to answer the question appropriately, especially when all I really want is to provide the most politically correct answer that will keep me out of the tabloids for the wrong reasons.

"Why are they meeting us here?" I ask, focusing on the conversation again. My mind keeps roaming to Olivia. How her nails scratched at my back. How it felt being buried in her. How she called out my name and squealed when she shattered.

"Hmmm?" Jeffrey is texting absentmindedly when there's a short, sharp knock at the door.

Recognizing that my manager is distracted, I open the door myself. It's Paul, the Director of Marketing for the movie, gesturing that it's time to start the first interview. I straighten my pants, suddenly nervous, wishing I had that gum now. Smoothing my hair, I signal to Jeffrey that I'm leaving.

"Wait, Harry!" Jeffrey calls, but he's too late. I've left the room, and I hear Jeffrey traipsing behind me to the first interview.

"Where's my co-star?" I ask Paul, who gestures with his head towards the room. I enter, cautiously looking for the asshole. The last thing I want is that freaked-out tiger on the prowl during our joint interviews.