Chapter 14 - It's Lunch Time

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There was a loud thump in his head — multiple, it seemed. Almost like thunder. Add lightning and electronic winds, with a heavy shower of strobe lights. Mix in a pinch of sweat and a field of clubbers.

That was the scene in Richard's head as he reminisced the lively set.

He sat back and fixed his hair, letting the quietness of the room clear his mind. There were two chairs: one that he sat in, and one other in front of him, about four feet away. The lighting was minimal, and the black backdrop was bare apart from the colorful movie poster that hung.

It was almost noon, and he was more than ready to leave. He turned to the production team.

"How many more to go?" Richard asked, impatient.

The woman raised her forefinger in response. One. One more interview and Richard would be free again, away to enjoy himself, if only he could.

He had been in New York for almost a week, and the days that had followed Mia's magazine event hadn't been the brightest. He found it difficult to sleep at night, and time seemed to move slowly. There was a throbbing pulse in his gut that desperately yearned for him to go home to his London flat, but work wasn't going to let that happen. Had it not been for his little clash with Brett the other day, he wouldn't be feeling the weight of his heartache, but it stayed there pulling him down. A sack of boulders overcrowding his chest, tightening each muscle mercilessly.

A nice little yellow diamond ring, round cut? He definitely wasn't going to forget about it anytime soon.

The door swung open and a cheerful Gillian Jacobs walked in, her tote bag already over her shoulder. "Not done yet?" she said to Richard from the entryway.

He shook his head. "I've got one more."

She frowned. "I just wrapped up. Wanted to say bye since I got a radio show to catch and traffic looks bad. I'll see you tomorrow night?"

"Of course you will." A hint of attitude was in his tone, largely for fun. "I'm in the movie too, you know."

Gillian rolled her eyes jokingly. "See ya, Richard."

He smiled at her and waved goodbye. "Take care."

As the door shut, Richard sighed. He had never felt such boredom before, and the ambience of his surroundings made him yawn. The idleness was deafening.

"Upper End's last for today. Since Gillian finished quickly, I don't think they'll ask you much." The publicist typed away at her phone, only looking up to add, "And I think the lady came alone, so nothing extra."

There it was; a couple of details to trigger the much needed will power. If Richard had been nearing the early stages of sleep moments ago, he was now wide awake, ready to do yet another interview.

"Who's interviewing?" he asked, extremely hopeful that he'd hear his favorite name.

"Upper End, the magazine."

"No, I meant the name of the interviewer?"

"Oh." The publicist pursed her lips together. "I never really caught it. She's really pretty, though. Like, I'd crush on her if I weren't married. You'll find out soon enough."

Richard heard an applause. It was a fantasy of sorts, an illusion. He stared at the door eagerly, imagining a charming brunette walking in and wearing a twinkling smile. Mia wasn't just really pretty to him. It wasn't that simple. She was that of every synonym he could think of, and he was certain that she had been saved best for last.

That jar of certainty expired when a young blonde entered with a notebook in her hands.

"Well, you look disappointed," she jested.

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