Mara is striding across the floor of the expansive foyer, high heels clicking loudly on the polished stone. She's wearing a leather trench coat that flares open to reveal a short, figure-hugging white dress. Her hair is coiled up in a tight bun and her make-up is immaculate. People cross her path, but she's making a line directly for the reception desk. Aidan's just behind her, lock step with a burly Japanese guy, in a suit that doesn't quite fit. A Japanese man approaches, eyes fixed on her, and reaches behind his waist.
Aidan slips his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and feels the weight of the gun. He slides it out. Mara stops, raising a hand to Aidan without facing him. The stranger opens his fist to reveal a small black memory stick.
"You took your time," Mara snarls at him.
Hearing this, Aidan lowers the gun and begins to relax, but at that moment another man, stocky with a riot of blonde hair and square glasses, comes in from the side. He's waving his hands wildly and Aidan turns towards him, unsure.
"No, Hideo. Gotta be higher. It's a three-quarter shot. Your hand needs to come in from chest height. Okay? Okay, let's go again."
Mara turns, looking at Aidan now. She's smiling, arching an eyebrow as she passes him. Aidan slips the gun back into his pocket and follows behind, returning to the entranceway. Mara stops, fussing with her trenchcoat, getting the fall of the material just right. The burly Japanese man takes up his position at her other shoulder. Behind them, everyone is in motion again, the crowd retracing their steps back to first positions, the last thirty seconds running in reverse, like they're rewinding time.
"Going good," Mara murmurs, her eyes on the director as he organises the camera back to the start of its track.
"Is that a question?" Aidan rumbles under his breath.
"No, statement of fact. You're good at this."
Aidan grimaces, shifting his shoulders. He can feel the bullclips pinned to the back of his jacket, gathering the material more tightly around his torso.
"Not comfortable?"
Aidan shakes his head.
"Don't worry. The camera's only looking at the front. You look good from that angle."
Her eyes are twinkling with mischief. She's enjoying his predicament.
"Yeah," he grumbles, "It's just that when I woke up this morning, I didn't think I was going to be spending the day as a henchman."
Mara tuts at him, shaking her head.
"Ah, no. It's henchperson these days. It's equal opportunity, we're allowing female thugs."
"That just sounds awkward."
"What would you like to call yourself instead? Person of hench?" she grins, then her expression becomes sly, "Hired muscle?"
"Mara, I...."
He's interrupted by the director.
"Okay, places. Quiet. Let's go again."
---
Aidan hangs the suit back up on the rack, alongside a dozen identical suits. He feels better now, back in his t-shirt and jeans, running his hands through his hair, ruffling it back up. He uses a moist wipe, cleaning the make-up off his face, glad to be looking more like himself again. He doesn't know how Mara does it, turning into a different person each day, doing it for a living, the endless fussing with hair and wardrobe for an hour and then standing around for half a day, all to produce thirty seconds of film time. The sheer amount of effort involved is staggering. He hangs back, standing between the costume racks, grateful for the moment of quiet.
It had all been Mara's idea, of course. She'd pitched it to him as if it was a simple extension of what they'd done in the café on the beach, their impromptu roles in the background of a soap opera scene. Then she'd dropped him off with the makeup girls to go and get changed herself. By the time she'd returned, Aidan had found himself committed to playing an extra in the scene, as Mara's second bodyguard. At least there had been no speaking, no lines to learn. He was strictly the hired muscle.
Even so, even with just having to walk in a straight line and take out a gun at a specific point, it had been stressful. Aidan enjoys the quiet, secluded from the hubbub as he listens to the crew calling out as they reset for the next scene. The make-up girls are chattering to themselves at the tables nearby. He hears one of them laughing.
"I know, right? It's just ludicrous," she giggles.
"It's 'cause she's a star. Clicks her fingers and makes it happen."
"Yeah, like it's bring your kids to work day."
"Fucking diva."
They both laugh at this, but it's cut short by a sharp voice from across the foyer.
"Shit. Okay, okay."
"Got the brushes?"
"I got the brushes."
"Let's go."
"Whaddya think? Might need the trowel."
"You bitch."
He hears more laughter, fading into the distance. Aidan sinks down into a crouch up against the marble-tiled wall, in the little space between the clothing racks, deflated. He feels bad for Mara, for the way they're making fun of her. Aidan has spent long enough close enough to see the other side of her, that she's just doing her job, making comments to the crew, trying to get it right because she needs it to be right. She's focused on the finished product, the view on the big screen at the end. It all has to look perfect. She has to look perfect.
Aidan shuffles out of his hiding spot. Across the expanse of the Tokyo skyscraper foyer, there are a pair of low, square leather chairs facing each other. Mara is reclining in one, with a camera over her shoulder. A boom microphone hovers above her head, and one of the make-up girls is applying powder across her forehead. Opposite her is another woman, about Aidan's age, with jet black hair cut into an angular bob. She has soft features, and high cheekbones tapering down to a pointed chin, unconventionally beautiful. The other make-up girl is standing over her, brushing her hair.
The rest of the foyer is deserted now that the crowd scene has been shot. The extras have been released, leaving Aidan standing on his own in the middle of the floor. He doesn't know if he should approach or if he should make himself scarce, Mara hasn't said. So, he stands there, listlessly, waiting for direction.
The director is bent over the younger woman, muttering in her ear. He straightens up and retreats out of shot. The crew becomes quiet.
"Action."
Mara comes to life instantly, opening with, "You really think that's enough to save you?"
In the silence of the foyer, her words ring out. The younger woman leans forward, smiling.
"Oh, it's enough. By the time I'm done, it's going to be enough to drown you."
She's speaking perfect English, but there's a trace of Eastern Europe in her accent.
"That's the problem with secrets, Niko. They're like aces. If you play your ace, you gotta be sure your opponent isn't holding one of her own."
Mara grins back at her adversary, sinking back into her chair.
"Or a gun under the table."
"You're full of shit."
"Let's see shall we? It's fifty paces to the door. Think you can make it?"
"I'm not going out the door. I'm going upstairs."
She tilts her head to the side very slightly, eyes locked on Mara now, smiling coldly.
"Straight through you if I have to," she finishes.
"Cut," the director interjects, "Good. Okay, how was that on the capture?"
The crew relaxes, checking their equipment. The cameraman gives a thumbs up. Mara looks over to the director.
"All good, Horst?" she asks.
"Yeah, in the bag, Mara. You were both terrific. Tiana, liked the intensity there, can we keep that and I'd like to do a few cut shots on the same dialogue."
The younger woman nods. "Okay. Just like this?"
"Yeah, Frank, can we get a reset on the camera, head and shoulders on Tiana from the opposite angle."
"Do you want a reaction shot from me?" Mara asks, "I can do a couple of pieces into camera to slice in if you want."
Horst seems preoccupied now, his attention on the other woman, working out his shots.
"No," he mutters, "I think we got you in the bag."
"Sure?"
"Yeah, you're good, if you want to wrap it up for the day."
Mara hesitates, her eyes flicking between the director and the dark-haired woman in the opposite chair. She nods.
"Okay. Hey, I'm just fifteen minutes from here if you need to re-do. Call me."
"Will do," Horst gives her a nod, "See you tomorrow."
"Yeah, see ya."
Mara launches herself up from her chair, stepping carefully around the cameraman as he sets up for Tiana's close-up. She emerges from the huddle of people, glancing over her shoulder as they converge around Tiana, getting ready to film her next shot. Mara turns away, frowning but then her face lights up with a brilliant smile as she sees Aidan watching her.
"Babe, I guess we got an early mark. What do you say, Aidan? Wanna shoot?"
"Yeah, sure."
She wheels him towards the doors, threading her arm through his. He glances at her face, in profile. She's smiling brightly, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She turns to him, animated.
"How was that? Crazy, right?"
Aidan nods, finding himself in the spotlight as her eyes fix on him. He puts on a smile too, making an effort to lift his mood.
"Real crazy," he affirms, "I can't believe you do that for a living."
"Ah, it's all experience. I make it look easy, huh? You can't believe I get to do that for a living, but you know what? Me neither."
She's misheard him, but he doesn't interject now that Mara's in full flow.
"You saw how it was right? It's like dancing, everything is choreographed. If you mess up, it's back to step one and then do it all over again."
They reach the revolving doors and Mara leads them through, emerging outside into late afternoon sun.
"That's why directors like Horst love working with actors like me. We don't fuck up. We know our lines and our marks. You get fresh new talent and they're all about the experience of it all, which is great but when you've used up a dozen takes when it should have only needed two because they can't fucking walk in a line, then was it really a good call?"
Aidan frowns, lost, and Mara relents.
"The starlets are cheaper, but not necessarily better value. It's the experience that gets the project done on time and in budget."
"Ah," Aidan manages, "I get it."
"Of course you do," Mara smirks, "Makes you smarter already than eighty percent of the people in this business."
They're walking along the street, still arm in arm, Mara buzzing in his ear.
"What did you think of Tiana?" she asks, changing subject abruptly.
"I don't really know."
"What do you mean?"
"I, uh, I never got to talk to her."
Mara nods quickly, replying, "Yeah, she's a little prickly. She's gonna need to watch that."
"Why?"
"You start to get a rep. Crews all know each other, it's pretty incestuous. You don't want to get labelled as difficult to work with. That's why I put the effort in, like nothing's too much trouble. Like just now, offering to stick around if Horst wanted to do other shots. They really appreciate that. Movies are difficult enough, they appreciate all the helping hands they can get."
Mara squeeze Aidan's arm.
"That's the secret to this job. It can be a real slog, so you always gotta be a sail rather than an anchor," Mara shrugs, "Regardless of whether you're having a good day yourself or your day's going to shit."
She sticks her hand out quickly, hailing a passing cab.
"Let's get out of here," Mara says.
"Where are we going?"
The cab pulls in and stops. Mara opens the door, standing there, appraising Aidan now, her mouth set in a firm line.
"Get in the cab, Aidan. Let's go back to the hotel. We can unwind."
Aidan climbs into the cab and Mara slides in after him, sitting close on the back seat.
Mara wrinkles her nose. "Move up a little? Or do you like the contact?"
Aidan shifts across a little more and Mara settles herself, putting her hand on his leg, casually.
"Do you think she's pretty?"
The question comes out of nowhere, and Aidan struggles to pick the right words.
"C'mon, you can say. She is pretty, right?"
"I guess."
"Oh, yeah, sure. You know. Don't give me that shit."
Her eyes are twinkling and she's grinning, but Aidan can't shake the feeling of something behind it all.
"Tell me straight. If you had the choice of going back to the hotel with her or with me, who would you choose?"
"Mara...."
"Really, just tell me. It would be her, right? You can say it."
"It would be you."
Mara squeezes his knee, regarding him for a moment.
"Oh, man, you're so full of shit. She's gorgeous, right? Why on earth would you not want to tap that opportunity?"
"It would be you, really."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Really, why? What do I have that she doesn't?"
Aidan consider for a moment, sensing that Mara's going to keep pressing until she gets an answer she likes.
"You're better looking."
"Oh, that's such bullshit," Mara crows, "Like I buy that for a second."
"Why not? Why's it bullshit?" Aidan counters, defensively.
"I got, what? I must have twenty years on her. See these?" she mocks, "You see these, right?"
Mara's pointing at the corners of her eyes.
"She gets to be the face of a perfume brand, and I have to make do with skin plumping serum."
There is a teasing tone in her voice, but Aidan's finding it hard to judge her mood.
"You're still beautiful."
Mara opens her mouth but then she stops, casting a sidelong glance at him, as if she's gotten what she wanted.
"You'll say anything to get what you want," she murmurs.
"And what do I want?"
Mara leans over to him, until her lips are brushing against his ear.
"A fuck," she whispers.
Aidan pulls back, breaking contact.
"What makes you so sure?" he asks.
"The way that you look at me."
Her hand shifts up his leg.
"Mara, hey, wait. What are you doing?"
She reaches between his legs to cup his crotch, all the while fixing her gaze on his face. She strokes the fabric of his jeans and he feels himself begin to react to her attentions.
"I want to feel how hard I make you."
"Hey, we're in public."
Mara ignores him, grinding her palm against the burgeoning bulge in his jeans.
"Do you think Tiana would do this? Would she get you hard?"
"Mara, you gotta stop."
She rakes her fingernails over the fabric of his crotch, her hand lingering for a moment before she pulls away and sits up.
"You know the answer. She wouldn't get you hard, not like I can get you hard. That's what I'm saying about starlets, babe. No fucking idea."
Mara smiles to herself and turns away, watching the streets go past, her hand now resting casually on his knee again. Aidan feels the tightness in his underwear, but Mara is ignoring the tell-tale bulge now, leaving him confused. They ride the rest of the trip in silence.
The cab pulls up into the hotel lobby and they get out, Mara leading the way again, striding forward, every inch the movie star. Once more, Aidan finds himself being pulled along in her wake. They take the elevator up to their floor and Mara still hasn't said a word. Only when they enter the suite does Mara break her silence.
"Ready?"
She turns to him, her expression serious now. She's still fully made-up from the filming, and the effect is surreal, masking the little imperfections that he's become used to. Mara unzips her dress and steps out of it, revealing herself in her underwear. She wanders into the kitchenette, gathering a couple of glasses and then opening the bar fridge.
"Whaddya want? Scotch? Gin? I'm gonna have a scotch."
Before he can answer, she's pouring out two glasses, dropping in ice. She sidles back over to him.
"Cheers," she says, handing him a glass, "Here's to the workers."
She takes a drink, standing unselfconsciously in her underwear, but Aidan doesn't touch his. He knows what's coming, he knows her well enough by now to see what she's building up to. He puts his glass down and reaches out to take hers, but she holds it firmly in her grip.
"You don't need this," he tells her.
Mara refuses to relinquish her drink, pulling back, her expression clouding, the smile slipping away.
"Don't lecture me, Aidan."
He doesn't respond, but he also doesn't let go of her glass. She looks up at him, her mouth set in a firm line. Aidan places a hand on her shoulder, his thumb brushing against her neck, a little gentle touch.
"I'm not. You don't."
Aidan twists the glass slightly, and it slips out of her fingers. He sets it down next to his, cupping her face in his hands as he looks down at her. There is belligerence in her expression, but something else also, locking in conflict behind her eyes: doubt.
"Don't you want to?" she asks in a small voice.
"Do you?"
"That's a fucking stupid question, babe. Look at me."
"You know what I mean."
Mara slides her hands around him, her body against his now. The bravado has evaporated, leaving a fragility that he hasn't seen before. He lowers his face to hers and in response she raises her chin, parting her lips. She closes her eyes. Aidan finds himself looking down at her perfect face, outlined still by stage makeup, her features abstracted and magnified. She's breathtaking, her lips waiting for his touch.
Aidan kisses her, tasting the whiskey on her tongue. She's so soft and delicate, pressed up against him, unhurried. She breaks off, blue eyes shining as she looks up into his face. A little smile creases the corners of her eyes and Aidan kisses her again, feeling her tongue slipping into his mouth as her passion builds.
Mara reaches for his belt, but Aidan's hands clamp over hers, stopping her. She pulls back, unsure again, her mouth opening. But, before she can say anything, he bends down, kissing her again, his grip firm as he holds her hands. Eventually, Mara relaxes, pulling away to encircle his waist again, letting herself be kissed.
Aidan's lips touch her cheek, working down her jaw to her neck, kissing her throat as she raises her chin to expose her neck to him. He wraps his arms around her waist, pinning her hands, his lips tracing lower and lower until he's nuzzling in the valley of her cleavage. Mara lets out a low sigh.
Aidan releases her arms, sliding his hands down her back to grip her bottom, lifting her up. Mara seems to understand, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, letting him carry her. Aidan takes her through to his bedroom, lowering her gently onto the bed.
When she touches the bed, Mara stretches out like a cat across the white sheets, staring up at him, the playfulness returning. Without a word, she unhooks her bra and sheds her panties, reclining again but now completely bare for his inspection. She cushions her head on her folded arms, lifting her breasts, displaying herself for him. Mara is used to be looked at, to being posed and displayed. Aidan's gaze drifts down her body and Mara squirms, like it's a caress.
"Like what you see?" she murmurs seductively.
Aidan nods.
"Want to get naked with me?" she asks.
Aidan begins to undress himself, feeling Mara's eyes on his body as he strips naked. He doesn't rush, revealing himself little by little, teasing Mara with his skin. He never did this with Rosa, he realises, but Mara is so very different. It's part of who she is, that there is a spectacle to it, a performance. The little disgruntled face as she showed herself to him, coming down the stairs in Sydney, has gone. Mara is showing off her new body, the one they have been working on together, seeing the validation of her efforts reflected in the steady gaze of the man standing over her.
Naked at last, Aidan approaches the bed. Mara's attention settles on the space between his legs and it's enough: Aidan feels himself begin to swell as she examines his bare form.
"I'm all yours," she breathes.
Aidan moves, climbing onto the bed, taking up a position over her prone body. He lowers his lips to her breast, kissing the soft, yielding flesh, tracking across her skin in increments until he finds her nipple. Aidan applies suction, drawing her hardening nub into his mouth, flicking the end with his tongue, and Mara writhes in response. He pulls away and she gasps.
"Tease."
Aidan chuckles, replying with, "So impatient."
He moves across her chest, dipping down to give her other nipple some attention, feeling Mara shift beneath him, arching her back to present herself to his ministrations. He breaks off again, trailing little kisses in her cleavage, like he's got all day.
He can feel the tension ebbing from her body as Mara sinks into the sensation of his lips across her skin. It's different, languid and sensual, lacking the urgency of their previous couplings, unhindered by alcohol or frenetic desire. He takes his time, working down to her belly button, dipping his tongue inside, making her laugh.
"That tickles."
Aidan laughs too, working the tip of his tongue across her lower abdomen with a feather-light touch, until she's squirming and bucking, little snorts of laughter escaping her mouth.
"Stop it," she giggles, "You're so cruel."
Suddenly, Aidan plunges down, pressing his lips against her entrance, and she gasps with the shock of unexpected contact.
"Fuck," she gasps, her body tensing as Aidan probes within her folds with his tongue.
He burrows within, tasting her, finding the hardening button nestled there, brushing it with his tongue tip. Mara's hands are in his hair, all at once, her fingers twining through his locks, the urgency building in her as he burrows deeper, sliding his tongue inside.
Mara hisses, a long, heavy exhalation, and Aidan can sense how much she's been building up to this. He breaks off, scattering kisses across her reddening lips, trailing out to her inner thighs, until she's grunting in frustration. Aidan works his way back in, pressing his mouth against her, pushing deeper, taking her clit between his lips and sucking gently until her hips begin to grind in the sheets.
"Aidan," she groans, "Just, uh, I want you. That's enough."
He pulls back, looking up the length of her body, meeting her gaze.
"Please," she whispers.
There is an innocence in her tone, stripped away of all pretence. He move up her body, kneeling over her, poised at her entrance. Mara lifts her head, kissing him deeply, waiting for him to make the move. She opens her eyes, face pressed against his.
"I...," she begins, but then her voice fades away, leaving behind a feeling.
He's looking into her beautiful blue eyes, hearing the thing between them, unvoiced but deep. Mara wants to tell him something, like it's a confession, but she can't bring herself to say it. Her expression shifts, and he can tell she's changing tack, burying the thing she wanted to say, and the moment is lost.
"I'm ready for you, babe," she murmurs instead, kissing him again.
"You want me to use protection?"
"No. I want to feel you. It's all good."
He feels her hands on his waist, sliding down, applying pressure. He yields, penetrating her slowly, rocking back and forth, pushing further, sliding deeper with each thrust until he slips into her entirely. Her fingernails dig into the skin of his buttocks.
Their lovemaking is leisurely; Mara seems content to let him dictate the pace, her hands exploring his body as she stretches out, savouring the feeling of him inside her. It's so different, it's almost like she's another person. Aidan buries his face in her hair, thrusting more firmly into her now, feeling the first stirrings of his climax building. He knows what this is, because it used to feel like this with Rosa. He's gotten to the same point with Mara now, past the point of fucking to the place where they're making love. He can tell that she feels it too, letting him take his time with her, letting him bring her gently up to orgasm.
Before, there had always been an urge in her, a violence, but as she moans softly in his ear, he can tell she doesn't want that now. Her hand brushes up her neck, her fingers closing into a fist in his hair, her breathing pattern shifting, panting, as her climax approaches.
Aidan doesn't pull back but he doesn't bury himself in her with any greater urgency either. There's no rush, feeling a deep urge building in his groin as he feels her begin to feather around him. She's close, on the brink, waiting for him and he lets himself build, powering at last to the point of release, finally thrusting harder and faster until his core contracts and he erupts.
Mara hisses through clenched teeth, orgasming too, cinching his body in her arms as he fills her. There is something primal about it, a desire beyond the basic need to climax that he's felt with her previously. At last he sinks down on top of her, pressing her body into the sheets, feeling the slickness of her skin against his.
"Jesus," she mutters, "Were you saving yourself up?"
Aidan laughs, his face in her hair, and he feels her laughing too, her body shaking beneath him.
"Babe, you looked like you were about to pop a vein."
"Maybe."
He knows what she means. This time had felt different, a better connection between them. He rolls to the side and she takes a deep breath, unencumbered now by his bulk.
"It was like a fucking sex scene," she says.
"Huh? I don't understand."
She turns to him, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Y'know, like it is in the movies."
"Like what? Uh, is that a good thing?"
"It's always good in the movies, Aidan. It's always perfect."
She smiles at him.
"Though, obviously we had less slow piano music in the background."
Aidan laughs, and Mara grins at him.
"What you said, about protection, you worried?" she asks.
"Aren't you?"
"About what? Getting pregnant?"
"I guess."
Mara slides an arm around his shoulder, trailing her free hand down his bare chest, tracing the contours of his abdomen.
"You don't need to worry about that, Aidan. You're safe there."
Aidan frowns and she pats her tummy.
"Dead end," she says, "No chance of little surprises."
For her to come out with it like that, just stating it as a matter of fact, has blindsided him. Instantly, he thinks back to holding Rosa on their bed at home, the day that they'd found out it was her that was the problem. Rosa had cried, burying her face in his chest, and at that moment he had vowed to himself that he would do everything he could to give her a child, whatever it took. He couldn't bear the empty, broken look on his wife's face.
"I'm sorry," Aidan murmurs.
"It's all a long time ago. No point living in the past," Mara replies, "Such is life."
Aidan tries to find the words to say, but he can't. It feels awful, and sad. Mara rests a hand on her tummy, falling silent, lost in her thoughts.
"Did you want kids?" Aidan asks, gently.
"Oh, Aidan, I dunno. My life isn't exactly conducive. Not that it matters, anyway."
"What about treatments? There are all sorts of...."
"Yeah, I know. I looked. But there's something else you need too."
She curls up against him, her cheek on his chest, her breath warm against his skin.
"Sorry. I get it if you don't wanna talk," Aidan murmurs, stroking her hair softly.
Mara snuggles into him.
"A man," she says, "You also need a man, a child needs a father. I just never seem to get around to that part."
"Ever get close?"
Unexpectedly, she shifts her head and plants a kiss on his chest.
"Maybe, someday," she mutters, "Maybe a guy will come into my life and put me on the right track. A guy who wants to be with me, just me, and not fucking Mara Fey. Know anyone?"
Her head shifts again, and he finds himself meeting wide blue eyes. For a moment, Mara looks like she's going to say something more, but then she closes her eyes, pressing her cheek tightly against Aidan's bare chest and they lie together quietly instead, their bodies entwined.
"Do you wanna get a drink?" Mara asks suddenly, "Apparently the hotel bar is awesome."
She runs her fingers through her hair, coming to life again. Aidan regards her for a moment, caught off-guard by her mercurial nature.
"Okay. Sure."
"Give me a minute to get changed. You might wanna do that yourself."
She gets up and pads over to her room, barefoot. Aidan finds himself staring out the window at the high-rise buildings glinting in the late afternoon sun. He doesn't know why he said okay. He doesn't know why he's agreed to go to the bar. Nothing seems to make much sense anymore. Mara is like a chess game that he just can't work out the rules for; at one moment they are tender, entwined on the bed, and the next she wants to go out. Reluctantly, he goes over to his wardrobe and pulls on a shirt.
A few minutes later, he emerges from his room and goes to find Mara. She's still getting dressed, high heels in one hand, a dress draped over her arm, standing in just her underwear. She's fixed her face though and brushed her hair. Aidan watches as she drops the shoes to the ground and steps into them before sliding the dress down over her head.
"Little help?"
Aidan moves forward as she fusses with the dress, turning her back on him. He zips her up.
"Let's go. Apparently, it's a killer sunset."
She leads him out of the suite to the elevators and punches the button for the fifty-second floor. She fusses with Aidan's collar and smooths a hand down the buttons of his shirt.
"You brush up nice," she says.
"So do you."
Mara smiles, her eyes wide. "I know," she replies.
When the elevator opens, she steps straight out and up to the maitre d', who nods and beckons them to follow him.
"I phoned ahead," Mara confesses, "Being famous has gotta be good for something, hey."
They are led to a table by the windows.
"I'll have a champagne," Mara says to the man.
Aidan nods.
"Make that two," she says, settling into the chair.
Before them, Tokyo is laid out in an endless sprawl of steel, concrete and glass, reaching all the way to the far horizon.
"Thirty-five million people," Mara murmurs, "All living on a fault line. Three tectonic plates meet right here."
She laughs to herself, but her eyes are focused on the distant cityscape. "Talk about pressure."
The waiter arrives with their drinks. Mara holds up her glass and chinks it against his.
"Cheers to us," she says, "And a job well done."
Mara sips the champagne, looking back out at the view. Dusk is approaching and the sky is tinged with purple as they watch the oncoming night sweep over the horizon.
"What's next?" Aidan asks.
Mara shrugs, taking another sip of her drink.
"Ah, Aidan, who knows? Not Tony and his project, that's a certainty. He can go fuck himself."
"What?"
Mara shook her head. "Gabriella called me a couple days back, says they signed someone else on. Won't say who, but the rumour mill knows."
"Who is it?"
"Lara Borliase," Mara snorts, "Can't act for shit, but she looked fucking gorgeous in that red dress on the carpet at the Oscars last year."
She screws her nose up.
"No, wait," she says, "That's not fair. She's pretty good and from what I hear she works her ass off. Fair play to her. After all, that was me fifteen years ago, trampling all in my path."
She glances across at Aidan, a wry smile on her lips, "Now I guess I'm the tramplee."
Mara laughs. "Wait. Hold on. Is that even a word?"
Aidan smiles back at her, "No idea."
"Maybe I just made a word. I'm like William fucking Shakespeare," she replies, "Did you know he invented bubble?"
"What?"
"Really, look it up. First occurrence of bubble in the English language was from him. He had a green field, he could just make shit up and put it in a play and it became part of the language."
"You're kidding."
"Nah. Fuck, babe, imagine if I could do that. How cool would that be?"
"Maybe you can. Tramplee, for a start."
"Yeah. You gotta remind me, later. I need to write it into the screenplay. I need to immortalise it."
She laughs again, and her attention drifts back to the window. Aidan isn't interested in the view though, he's looking at Mara, the delicate curve of her cheek, the faint lines around her eyes, the way she has her blonde hair tucked behind her ear. He doesn't know what happens next, or where they go from here. He hasn't been able to figure out what he means to her, or how Andrew fits into her life.
Mara is enthralling in her own way, always on the move, like water changing direction, turbulent sometimes and placid at others. Like now, he thinks: Mara is quiet and open.
"You haven't told me what you think," she says.
"About what?"
"About the screenplay. You read it, right?"
She turns to face him, frowning. "You did read it? You didn't get bored, did you?"
"Yeah, I read it."
"So? What do you think?"
The blue eyes are watching him closely.
"I'm not sure I'm the best judge."
"But?"
Aidan smiles at her. "I liked it. I thought it was a good story."
He expects Mara to smile, or to crack a joke, but instead, she becomes contemplative, earnest. He can see just how much it means to her, the way she is exposing herself to him by letting him see her work.
"I thought it was sad," he continues, "That she never got away from the fact that love just brought her hardship."
"But what about the end? Where she finds someone new?"
"I liked that," Aidan replies, "I liked that it stopped when it did, at the start of something. It lets you imagine that it'll turn out right for them both."
"Do you think they stay together?" Mara asks, "Despite all her history? Do you think she can start again?"
Aidan drinks his champagne, watching the play of emotions across her face as she waits for his answer.
"I think that's the beauty of it, Mara, there at the end, where you leave them. You don't say they're gonna be together, but you do show that her world has changed. Even if it doesn't work out with him, she's already starting out again. You think she'll find what she's looking for after all."
Mara smiles.
"Good," she says, "It's good isn't it? Everyone deserves a happy ending."
Mara turns her attention to the skyscrapers, lighting themselves up one by one in the dark.
"Even her," she murmurs to herself.
Aidan follows her gaze, looking out through the windows and sipping his drink. They sit in an easy silence watching the night lights of Tokyo coming to life in the dark. Red aircraft warning lights blink on the rooftops of the skyscrapers and as the night settles in. Aidan can see those red lights stretching out across the cityscape, building after building, district after district, marching all the way into the distance, an endless megacity of high-rise monoliths stretching all the way to the invisible horizon.
Mara reaches out and runs her hand tenderly up and down his spine.
"What do you see?" she asks, softly, "Looking out at all the city, how does it make you feel?"
Aidan watches the blinking taillights of the flights descending towards Narita airport, and then down at the bustle of people in the streets far below.
"From up here, the people look like ants," Aidan says, "It makes me feel very small and insignificant. What about you?"
Mara sighs. He feels the warmth of her hand on his back through the cotton of his shirt.
"Here we are, sitting high above it all," she replies, "How does it make me feel?"
She takes a sip of champagne.
"It makes me feel like a god."