The Truths Behind the Life of Maeve Sun Lively

60

I let out a strained laugh, glancing at Mason who was smiling, nodding at me when he probably thought I was wondering what in the world Mary is talking about because she and I don't know each other one bit. I kind of was.

"Um, what?"

She opens her laptop instead of answering me right away, and then she turns her screen at me. I was looking at myself, a picture of me on the side I don't remember when was taken, and a bunch of paragraphs next to it. She pushed her glasses up her nose, soft eyes and the woman who made delicious pie, turned into someone else that was stricter. I was starting to see how Mason had become so boss-like.

"Maeve Sun Lively, nominated seven times for awards, being in at least over thirty films while only at the age of twenty-eight." She turns her laptop screen away and back at her, and I realize at the same time in horror that I've been leaning in to hear her. I pull myself back and try not to show any interest. "There is more, but I don't think you need me rambling to you about the things you already know so well of. You're confident, you have the acting skills, you're dominant, and you have a good base. I admire people like that."

I turned to Mason, fingers gripped together underneath the table. "What is this about?"

He shrugs his shoulders, gaze washing over his mother like a kid admiring their idol.

"This is about how I am casting you in a film I want to produce," Mary says. "And just so you know, Mason did not ask me to do this. I am choosing you." When I don't say anything, my face must've looked puzzled, she adds: "It's nothing too personal, if that's what you're thinking. I'm choosing you out of...sort of like statistics, you can say."

I pulled my eyes off of Mason as he was still chewing on his mother's pie, and landed them once again on Mary. "Okay, but why would I want to?" Mason flinches when I say this, and I really hated to pour out his idolizing for his mother, but this was also my career we were talking about.

She packs some papers up with her laptop, hugging it to her chest. "Why not let's talk in my study? Mason, do you mind?"

He nodded, already getting the plates and the leftover pie. He was gone like a rush of wind, following orders.

When he disappears into the kitchen, Mary smiles at me, a business-like smile. "Shall we?"

Her study is even messier, papers everywhere on the table, chairs, and the floor; books opened midway and sprawled out of their shelves. She shoots off the paper on one of the chairs and gestures for me to sit.

The afternoon sun was shooting in through the window behind us even with the half-drawn curtains, and she opened it enough to let some breeze in. "To answer your question, you would want to take this because it'll finally break you free out of where you are." She takes out some drink from the cabinet and two glasses next to it. "Drink?"

I wave my hand as an indication of no but she pours it anyway, handing it to me. "Since Mason isn't here anymore, let me be honest with you." I set the drink down on the small table between us and crossed my legs, eyeing her with the confidence I had. "He's important to me, and because you're important to him, I am doing this for him. We don't have to make friends, in fact, we might as well not see each other again after this, acquaintance wise or not. So to say in all, I don't want to play in your leading role, Mary. Let's just do what we must to keep Mason happy, alright?"

She crosses her leg too in her chair, taking a long stride in her drink. When she finally sets it down between her legs, she chuckles out a sweet laugh. "I'm not surprised to hear you say that."

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't know me."

She tips the glass at me with a gesture. "I mean, Mason knew you'd say that."