Wild (sequel to Deep) - Zarry AU

Sun

"Yo, Harry!"

The screenwriter had jumped up as soon as he saw Harry's famous outline rounding the plants that divided one table from another in the outdoor section of Cucina . He leaned over the table as Harry approached and shook Harry's hand violently. "Josh Feinstein. So great to meet you!"

Simon was leaning back, face turned to the sun, hands clasped behind his head. The small Mona Lisa smile that he always wore widened slightly at the sight of Harry. "I'm sorry, Harry - we went ahead and ordered sashimi," Simon said. "We thought you might have got lost," he added, the smile almost creasing into a laugh.

Harry folded himself into the small, bistro-style chair. Comfort never seemed to matter when a place got fashionable, he thought. They could have had people seated on tree trunks and the LA hipsters would still love it.

"Erm... ah didn't get lost, actually," he said, smiling slowly. "Ah've been here loads of times."

Harry knew as soon as he'd said it that he shouldn't have. Everyone knew that this was where film deals were made and Simon wouldn't be too pleased to hear about Harry's plans to distance himself even more from SyCo.

Simon looked at Harry – or it seemed as if he did, as he was wearing dark glasses, so Harry couldn't really tell. Josh, who had been twitching like a small animal since Harry sat down, broke the silence. "Simon's been telling me about your songwriting skills, Harry. You know, I'm sure we could make something of that in the next project I'm involved with. I'm super excited that we might have the chance to work together. Er, with Simon as well, I mean."

Harry squinted at Simon. He knew what Simon was thinking: rabid enthusiasm: not the way to impress Harry Styles. Go for the laid-back, friendly approach. Ask him to sign up to your project after a few drinks. And inside, Harry was agreeing.

Simon would still put up with Josh, however, Harry thought. After all, Josh's father owned a studio.

"Josh is very close to Bryan Singer, Harry," Simon said, as if this would explain everything.

"What, Bryan Singer as in X-Men?" Harry said, with genuine, I'm-still- not-that-far-off-being-a-teenager excitement.

Simon smiled indulgently.

"Yep – that Bryan Singer," he said.

"I could introduce you, Harry." Josh was on a roll. He nodded while chewing on a mouthful, swallowed more quickly than seemed necessary and said: "Bryan throws THE greatest parties at his crib. I am telling you."

The conversation continued: vague plotlines and film stories were discussed, names dropped and e-cigarettes smoked (by Simon). Harry allowed himself one Kentucky Tea, although Simon frowned at him and reminded him that DUIs didn't make great headlines for his fan demographic.

Then, as Simon had anticipated, Josh had to leave. The screenwriter stood up, wiped his hand down the side of his indigo linen suit jacket and shook Harry's hand as enthusiastically as he had before. As Josh turned to leave, Harry sat down again. He had the strongest feeling of foreboding he had ever experienced in his life.

There was a long silence, as Harry studied a set of unsplit chopsticks lying on the table in front of him. Finally, he looked over at Simon, his eyebrows furrowing.

Simon smiled.

"There's no point us wasting time, Harry," he said - in a way that suggested they had all the time in the world.

Harry pinched his lip with one hand and with the other picked up his glass, rolling the brown liquid around it.

They both spoke at once: different sentences but the same key word.

Tape.

Harry coughed. "You go," he said to Simon, looking down at his half-eaten meal.

Simon took a long, deep breath.

"So.... what I want to say is this. Just this. " He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "What's the deal, Harry? How do you want to play this? "

Harry looked at Simon, frowning slightly.

Simon went on: "Because..." he looked around, sat back and finished his water with one gulp, "....I'm totally in your hands."

Harry coughed and clasped his hands between his legs.

"Ah just..." Harry had never felt this nervous in front of Simon. Normally he would be teasing him, joking, confident as hell. He was actually shaking.

"Ah can't really talk about it, to be honest with you, Si... it's .... It was.... a mistake. Just... a complete mistake." He shook his head and looked to the side, beyond the bamboo plants that screened their table.

Simon had one hand wrapped over his fist, elbows rested on the table. For the first time, Harry thought, Simon looked like he really was his uncle.

"Harry, I don't care what happened... between you... and.... umm.....between you two. All I care about is sorting this problem out. In the best way for you. And for your career. That's all."

Harry rubbed his hand back and forth along the thigh of his faded black jeans, took a deep breath and nodded. "Ah think..." he coughed, "ah think... we need to bury it."

"We do."

Harry suddenly felt the words tumbling out of him. Words over which he seemed to have no control. "And I want the tape. I want all the copies. Every other one should be destroyed. I want them gone." Harry was whispering, not looking at Simon, a suppressed fury in his voice.

"Ok..."

Harry looked back at Simon.

"Look – " Simon crossed his arms, resembling the X Factor judge once more. "I'm not sure that'll be possible, Harry. All we can do is get them to agree not to release it. We can ask them to destroy all the copies but – really – how would we know if they actually did?"