Still the One

Chapter 1 - You Know What They Say About Eavesdroppers

Present day

Ben was talking on the phone when I entered our hotel room, his back to me as he leaned against the glass and looked out over the LA skyline. He didn't turn as I came in so I assumed he either hadn't heard me or didn't want to be disturbed, and inched as quietly as I could towards the couch.

"No, that doesn't help," he was saying, messing his hair as his hand ran through it. "She deserves it, of course, but it's still a bit galling to sit there a loser on a show telecast to millions while the very first time my wife works on a movie, she wins an award I've been working towards for years."

I came to an abrupt halt, my heart sinking at words I was obviously not meant to overhear. Feeling rather sick, I cautiously retraced my steps, wanting nothing more than to get away. It's not easy to move with stealth when you're carrying an extra twenty five pounds of weight but luckily Ben seemed so engrossed in his conversation that he didn't hear me and I made it out of the room without a hitch, closing the heavy door incredibly slowly to minimise noise. Moving in something of a daze, I made my way down to the lobby, not really certain of my next move. I felt in desperate need of either coffee or alcohol, despite it only being mid morning, but couldn't touch either, so opted instead to find the nearest juice bar and nurse a mango pineapple smoothie.

Last night at the Oscars I had won for Best Original Song but sadly, Ben had lost the Best Actor in a Leading Role award to Leonardo di Caprio – what can I say? Obviously 2016 is Leo's year. While he'd assured me he was honoured just to be nominated, Ben hadn't wanted to attend any of the after parties – which suited me fine, as I was tired from the multitude of interviews after the awards show and couldn't drink even celebratory champagne anyway – and we'd come straight back to the hotel. Now it appeared the loss may have meant more to him than he'd let on – and my win was making him – what? Jealous? Angry? Wishing, not for the first time, that my hormonally overloaded brain was functioning more efficiently, I tossed the possibilities around, becoming more confused by the minute.

Fifteen months earlier

"Frau Cara, es ist ein gentleman wishing to speak mit you; er ist in der Bar."

Surprised that someone would be here so late – I'd just come from a gig and it was nearing midnight – I looked towards the bar area but couldn't make out bodies or faces. "Not a reporter, Franz?"

"Nein, nein, Frau Cara. Er ist Herr Spielberg."

What? No, that can't be right; it must just be someone who looks like him and Franz is confused – there's no way Steven Spielberg would be in this hotel in Berlin in the middle of the night looking for me. Ludicrous! Franz must be nearing the end of his shift. Thanking him, I wandered into the bar, ordered a lemon, lime and bitters and looked surreptitiously around; as I did so a man at a nearby table stood, looking directly at me and smiling.

Holy fuck.

Okay, either that really is Steven Spielberg or the best damn doppelgänger I have ever seen.

"Cara de Luca?" The doppelgänger asked in a soft American voice, still smiling.

I nodded, feeling rather like a stunned mullet. Well, what I imagined a mullet would feel like if it had been stunned. Or if it had feelings, come to that. Do fish actually have feelings? I kind of hoped they didn't, really, given how we suffocated them then ate them...

"Steven Spielberg," the man said, now taking a step towards me and holding out his hand. I put mine in his and wriggled my jaw, wanting to make sure it hadn't dropped to floor level.

"Cara de Luca," I said breathlessly. Shit, he already knows that. We shook and he invited me to join him as the barman handed over my drink. He took it for me – holy fuck! Steven freakin' Spielberg! – and once I was seated, put it down on a coaster in front of me.

"I'm sorry to drop in on you out of the blue like this, but I was in Dresden when my assistant let me know you were here so I jumped on a plane."

Say something Cara. Say something!

"I...I'm...delighted to meet you." Okay, good start - don't fuck it up now. And watch your language! "Why am I meeting you?" Yeah, nothing like getting right to the point. "Oh God, I'm sorry, I'm just a bit...stunned." Don't tell him about the mullet, don't tell him..."Are you sure you're not looking for Ben?" Thank God! You didn't tell him.

He smiled again – he has a nice smile, I thought – and shook his head. "I'll be talking with Benedict at a later point, but right now I wanted to talk to you; I'm hoping you'll be interested in being involved with a new project of mine."

I listened as he told me of a movie he was about to make, an action epic reminiscent of Ludlum and le Carré that was a departure from his usual style. Some of this I had already heard from Ben, who had auditioned, I knew, for the yet-to-be-announced lead role. At the end of his description he added simply, "I'd like you to write and perform the theme song for the movie."

"Mr Spielberg..."

"Call me Steven, please," he interrupted.

"Steven..." Holy crap. "I've never done...I've only ever written songs for myself, not...not for a movie. I...I wouldn't even know how to go about it."

Then he told me his other idea – that I come to the studio, the locations, whatever it took, to see the storyboard, view the actors as they filmed, talk to writers and watch the movie unfold so I could immerse myself in it and get a real feel for the plot – all of this so my song would be a faithful reflection of the feelings he wanted to engender.

"Holy fuck." Oh shit, I said that out loud! "Oh God, I'm sorry, I..."

Steven forestalled my apology with a laugh and wave of his hand. "Please, don't worry – it's not like I haven't heard or said worse." Yeah, well... "So Cara, how do you feel about my proposal? Are you interested?"

"Still stunned, to be honest, but also...excited, energised, thrilled, anxious, terrified and nauseous." We both laughed. "But...it sounds absolutely amazing and I wouldn't miss this opportunity for the world." Say what now? Did I just agree to do this? HOLY FUCK!

"Fantastic, I'm so glad and I look forward to working with you. I'll have my producer be in touch to arrange dates and other details."

We chatted for a short time after that but when I began yawning Steven apologised for keeping me up and took his leave. A month later he rang Ben and offered him the lead role.

Present day

My musings were interrupted by a text from Ben asking if I was all right, making me realise how long I'd been gone. I replied I was on my way and walked back to the hotel, trying to decide whether or not I should let Ben know I had heard his conversation or wait and let him bring up the topic on his own. We were flying to different destinations tonight – he to South Carolina for filming and me to Calgary to re-join a tour - and wouldn't see each other for almost another month; what if he doesn't mention it today and I'm left to stew on it for that long?

Dammit, Cumbers!