Press Release

34: Release Agent

I don't know what we're supposed to do now. In some ways, as we step into the lift, we're still in our bubble of domesticity, and it feels like we could just be stepping out for our usual day of work. But I'm also hyperaware that our professional reason for being together no longer exists. We will not be forced together by circumstance anymore, and that feels weird.

So far, nothing between us has been planned, which is unusual for me. I used to send myself a daily email with my schedule, but I've upgraded. Now I have an electronic list that I update nightly. Only "bang the publicist" hasn't been on the list at all. In fact, I haven't even looked at my list since publicity for Press Release started. That's odd, right?

No matter. Time for me to get back on track.

"Need a ride home?" Minnie asks as we exit after waving goodbye to Amran, the morning concierge, who now also recognizes me.

The thought of getting home hadn't occurred to me. The limo driver had dropped us off here after the party, so I am currently without a vehicle. What does it mean though? If she takes me home, do I have to invite her in? Do I want her in another of my safe havens? Mentally, I chastise myself. Does it matter? If she wants to come into my home, I will throw open the doors for her, lay down a red carpet, and allow her to wander through every room and open every closet door.

She reads my hesitation wrong, "No worries, H. It's not like I need to come in for a tour. I just thought maybe you'd prefer not to find other transportation."

I grip the door handle on the passenger side of her car, "I would appreciate the ride home."

Smiling, she climbs behind the wheel and we set off. I've put my address into her GPS system, so she doesn't need me to give her directions.

"For your information," I say, "I was actually thinking that you should come see my place. Stay over for a night maybe." Biting my lip while I say it because that would be like making plans. And we don't make plans. It feels uncomfortable and strange.

Her phone rings, and she glances at the readout on the radio screen. "Shit. I need to take this, Harry. Would you mind not listening?" The words are said tongue in cheek because there's no way I can't hear the conversation when she answers it on the car's Bluetooth.

"Charles," she says as she clicks the Accept button.

"Olivia! Thank God you answered, darling! I'm going insane here. I listened to your advice, and I auditioned for two movies that are like --- A LIST, baby -- but I just got the second of two rejection calls. I'm ready to give up. Why me? Why don't they want me anymore?"

Snort. I can tell him why they don't want him. It's because he's a whiny brat. But I'm not listening so I keep my mouth shut and continue looking out of the window at the sights of LA traffic.

Minnie waits for the pause, and then she waits another few seconds (maybe to be sure he's done talking or just to gather her thoughts). "Charles. They don't want you because you're whining again."

I want to cheer when I hear her tell him the truth.

"You have to go into these auditions with your best foot forward, and that means no whining about how you're not getting the kind of roles you deserve. Everyone has to earn their next movie. So get over yourself and pretend that you've never been in a movie before," Minnie wisely shares her thoughts, "Remember when you felt lucky to be invited to any callback at all? You've got to put yourself in that frame of mind again, my friend, or you will be miserable always. And..."

He tries to interrupt, but my girl just keeps talking louder over him, "AND you will never get another job if you're always complaining about how you're not getting worthy work. Consider television, Charles. Or stage. There are tons of roles out there that will keep your acting skills sharp and your name in the public eye. They don't have to be award-winning roles. Remember, the best actors can make any role award-winning."