"How are you?" Came the voice on the other end of the line.
It has been about a week since they'd last spoken, since they'd landed back at LAX, retrieved their luggage, and hopped into separate taxis taking them back to their separate lives. He never let on that he'd overheard her conversation with Nathan. They simply returned to their routines of before: before the audition, before their first read through, before their days spent opening up to each other in ways that went beyond the expectations even with a romantic lead. It had only been about a week but it felt longer and she'd almost gotten back to her version of normalcy.
"You set to moonlight as a bus driver now or what?"
She laughs. He remembered her test was today. He is the first to even ask about this certification. It's been surreal and she has met so many interesting people she may never have encountered otherwise. She now holds a Class B Commercial Driver's license, which she thinks is about the funniest thing that has happened to her in ages, but not everyone shares her sense of humor about the mundane parts of life.
"Passed on my first try! If this acting thing doesn't work out, you should look into it. Job security, you know," she teases. "How are you?"
"Keeping busy, getting ready." He tells her about the Return of the Living Dead targets they used at the range a few days ago. "So you should probably stay on my good side, in case the zombie apocalypse comes."
Within minutes they're chatting freely again as though they'd never left Colorado. They talked about what they most look forward to on the set: for him, working with Dennis Hopper and Jeff Daniels; for her, the Craft services table. She told him stories about learning to drive a bus, like the day she backed into another bus while trying to park it.
"They bounce off each other a lot more than I'd expected, so I think there's wiggle room for mistakes, really."
"Suuure,"Keanu replies, not trying to hide his sarcasm.
In the background, an advertisement comes on TCM.
"Stay tuned as we continue our Ingrid Bergman marathon special..."
"You watching some classics? I love Ingrid Bergman," Keanu shares, overhearing the commercial.
This launches them into their mutual affection for old, black and white films and, before either really knew what had happened, he is on his way over to continue the marathon with her. She rushes around her home, tidying up and humming to the tune of As Time Goes By, when she hears the rumble of his motorcycle in her drive. Taking a big breath, she opens the door to see him standing there, holding his helmet.
"Hi," she says, softly, hands clutching the open door as though it gave her strength to stand. Somehow, she notes, the stubble on his face made his eyes appear darker.
"Hi," he replies, all weight on one leg, eyes focused, chin tilted down towards her. He watches as a wisp of hair flies into her face with the subtle evening breeze.
There they stood for a minute, or was it thirty? The last refuge of crickets are still singing in the night sky, holding on before the weather turns in Los Angeles for the year.
A chill comes over her. She's still wearing the tank top she'd planned to go out in. Letting go of the door she rubs her arms up and down, trying to bring back the warmth, when she realizes she hasn't invited him in yet. "Oh, I'm sorry. Come in," she says, pulling the door open wide.
He walks in, the click-clack sound of his boots echoing in the mostly empty room. They look like sixth graders at their first dance, awkwardly leaning toward each other to hug their hellos. He kisses her cheek and gestures toward her legs, "Nice skirt."
She looks down and feels overdressed. "Oh, I was supposed to go somewhere tonight but...didn't," her voice trails off for a second. "Forgot to change," she explains apologetically.
"No, it's really nice. I like it," he assures her.
Another moment of silence passes.
"Here, I'll take that for you," she says, referring to his jacket.
As he begins to hand it to her, he sees a slight discoloration on her palm where the glass broke her skin. Without thinking, he reaches out and grasps her hand. Turning it over in his, he runs his pointer finger along the thin, pink line. "It's healing well," he notes, his finger still tracing the mark.
"Yes." She removes her hand and reaches for his jacket, hanging it up.
She gives him a short tour, with Brandy and Baxter following their every step, ending in the living room, as Casablanca is about to start.
"Should we sit?" she asks, pointing at the sofa.
It is quite the dichotomy, the air between them feeling both intimate and foreign at once.
He takes his seat, laying an arm on the back of the sofa.
She sits next to him, spreading an afghan across both of their laps, creating a small space for the two of them to inhabit. She tucks her feet beneath her and falls back into his outstretched arm, neither one daring to make eye contact lest they have to have a discussion about the appropriateness of their positions. Instead, they turn their attention to the opening scenes of the movie: whistles blow, sirens blare...
"This was the customary round up of refugees, liberals, and a beautiful young girl for Monsieur Renault..."
There they sit uninterrupted, not moving, at times not even breathing. For the next ninety minutes, Jack and Annie try hard to ignore the points of contact between them.
This is the job, she reminds herself, leaning into her character development. At least, that's what she is telling herself, that this is character development.
"You must remember this / A kiss is just a kiss / A sigh is just a sigh
The fundamental things apply / As time goes by"
As the credits roll, they both know it's late. In a couple of days they'll be starting rehearsal and seeing each other every day for weeks. Neither is in a rush to move from the sofa, but it's time. Just then, his phone rings. He doesn't answer it, but it's enough to move them out of the moment and to their feet.
"Thank you for the movie, Sandra, I enjoyed it." He pulls her in for another hug, this time her forehead slips right into the crook of his neck. Did she press herself against him, or did he pull her in entirely? No one can tell, but every inch is connected. He kisses the top of her head.
"Well, goodnight. See you soon."
With that, he abruptly pulls himself away, like ripping a bandage from a wound — fast so as to minimize the ache.
She stands in her doorway, watching him climb onto his motorcycle. Securing his helmet, he gives her a small wave, then drives away.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
He arrives at his hotel and is walking through the lobby when his phone rings again. He looks at the number, it's his best friend, Jude. He answers, at first only hearing a muffled voice, muted by the loud thumping of a bass drum and the cry of a guitar.
"Keanu!! What's up brother, where you at? What're you doing? Fuck, who cares what you're doing? You should be here right now, man."
Jude has been out all night with some guys, watching a pop-up Van Halen show. Keanu is hesitant to join him. It's already almost midnight and he'd had an...eventful evening.
"Come on, Keanu, let's party," he hears a female voice, followed by laughter.
"Yeah, Keanu, let's party," Jude jokingly repeats.
He thinks it over some more. What the hell? Music is his second love, after all. "Where are you?"
"Out at the Whiskey," he replies.
"Alright."
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
After parking on Sunset Boulevard, he walks into the Whiskey A Go Go bar, scanning the room for Jude. He finds him in the VIP section along with a bevy of beautiful women and other well-known faces. Jude Molinari is another up and coming actor. They worked on a project together a few years ago and became fast friends, both loving the art of it all, both rejecting much of the trappings of celebrity, both also playing in garage bands on the side. Well, Keanu is in a garage band. Jude has had far more success, headlining shows and touring.
Everything Jude attempted, he took all the way to the edge. He doesn't know how to do something halfway and has no time for anyone who phones anything in.
Van Halen is playing their final set before they start their encore round. Keanu makes his way to Jude's table where he's greeted enthusiastically by his friends. Almost immediately upon arrival, he is flooded with attention from beautiful, scantily clad women. Keanu immediately retreats into his mysterious persona, always polite but not forthcoming with all the conversational (and other) requests. Jude moves to the corner where he makes out with his girlfriend. The voices blend into the background for Keanu as he looks around, taking in the scene. He sees another group of rambunctious men in the corner surrounded with twice as many women. They have bottle service and lots of empties to show they've been there awhile. One looks terribly familiar, curly hair and bright white teeth, sitting down with a brunette hanging on his every word, his hand on her knee.
He squints, trying to place the guy when Jude comes walking back with his arm around his girlfriend, Bethany. "Hey, K, we're going backstage, you comin'?"
Keanu shakes his head yes, still staring at the curly-haired guy, trying to place him. They start their walk toward the velvet ropes by the stage, but he can't shake that deja vu feeling.
Why does he look so familiar? He wonders.