"Oh my god, I cannot believe it — you and Ben??"
"Shhh—" hissed, closing the door to the bathroom behind us.
"I mean you should've seen my face when I saw you two, my eyes were like saucers—"
"Martha, please," I whispered. "Yes, Ben and I were out the other night but please, please be quiet because we don't want the others to know!"
"So what is it??" Martha lowered her voice, expressing her enthusiasm instead with a massive grin and an excited bounce. "Are you two together?"
"Oh, god," I breathed, covering my face and laughing. "I don't even know. I guess... I guess we are a little bit—"
"Ahh!" She squealed. "How did— when did— oh my god, I have so many questions!"
I clapped my hands on her shoulders to steady her.
"Martha— Martha! Take a breath!"
She held up her hands.
"Sorry, sorry, it's just—" She grinned again, her eyes shining. "Oh, I'm just so happy for you two, you're both so lovely."
I couldn't help but smile. It felt good to share this with someone who knew us both — and even better to see someone who knew Ben so well approve of the pairing.
"So what's going on?" She asked, perching on the side of the bath.
I took a deep breath and looked up, pondering the question. What is going on?
"Well," I began, rubbing my temple. "After he and Amy split up, we sort of... well we sort of kissed. At your house."
"At my house??" She clapped her hands over her mouth. "And you didn't tell me??"
"It was all very—" I laughed, remembering. "We were out on the stoop, and I just kissed him. And then he kissed me back — but then we didn't know what to do after that so the next day on set we were sort of awkward, but then it wasn't awkward, it was... well it was pretty hot, to be honest, so he came over my place for dinner and... now we're here."
"Unbelievable," she said, shaking her head. "You two— nobody has any idea, or at least, nobody's mentioned it! I wouldn't have known if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes!"
I covered my face again, blushing and snickering.
"So... what, is it just shagging?"
"Martha!"
"What!" She stood again, unable to contain her excitement. "When I saw you two last night, it didn't look exactly casual!"
I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it again.
"It's... it's short-term," I said finally. "I wouldn't call it 'just shagging' — we definitely care about each other — but I'm leaving in a couple of days. And that's where it's ending."
"Oh, no," she opined, looking crestfallen. "Seriously?"
I nodded, a stab of pain wracking my chest.
"I have to go back to LA," I said with a sad shrug, attempting a lighthearted air. "I've got irons in the fire there, my reps would kill me if I ran away with some British guy."
She looked deeply disappointed. Her hand alighted on my arm and she gave it a fond squeeze.
"But you seem to really like each other!"
"We do," I said quietly, through a wan smile. "But you know... just because two people really like each other doesn't mean that pragmatically, it's meant to be."
"I guess so..." She didn't look convinced.
"Anyway, please, please don't tell anyone — it's already going to be hard enough when I leave, and I can't handle everyone being involved too."
"Of course," she nodded, sincerely. "I just... I'm really happy for you guys, even if it is just a fling."
I chuckled.
"Thanks, Martha."
"Seriously," she continued, looking me in the eye. "I've known Ben a really, really long time. He means a lot to me and I wouldn't be thrilled for him to be with just anyone. I..." She sighed. "Well, not to make you feel worse about it, but I saw the way he was looking at you. He doesn't look like that often. And you — I mean, I know we're new friends, but I saw the way you were looking at him, too. I think you'd be pretty amazing together."
I smiled, swallowing the lump in my throat. It did make me feel worse. But it also made me feel truly touched.
"I appreciate that," I said in a soft, hoarse voice. "Honestly, it means a lot."
When we returned to the group and started filming, Martha kept her word and didn't say anything — but she did keep looking from me to Ben and back with bright, excited eyes, which made me laugh despite myself. Ben, bless him, didn't catch on — he was very focused on the show, collaborating with Simon on minor tweaks and approaching his scenes with alacrity.
He did, however, take the opportunity of a noisy and chaotic camera position switch to lean in and whisper, "Remind me to send a bouquet of flowers to wardrobe for this episode."
I blushed, chuckling and looking down at the burgundy leather pants and black corset top they'd put me in. When I looked up at him and shook my head, faux-scolding him, he raised one eyebrow and shot me a look that said just wait 'til I get you home. It took all my strength not to fall apart into giddy giggles. Hot damn, I thought as I watched him walk away, his Captain's uniform looking even more dapper than usual. Flirting with him might be my favorite hobby.
When we broke for lunch, I grabbed my phone from my purse and saw that I'd missed a call from my agent. I slipped outside into the brisk air, the patchy snow crunching beneath my feet, and returned the call.
"Babe!" The eager voice of my agent, Dan, instantly brought a smile to my face.
"Dan the Man!" I chuckled. "Are you coming over for the Game Time premiere?"
"Oh, I wish," he said — I could hear he was calling from his car. I pictured him speeding up the PCH, AC blasting, on his way to some meeting with a star in Malibu. "But you know I can't get away in the middle of pilot season — you're lucky you got a study abroad pass!"
"Oh, believe me, I feel lucky," I said. "It's so great here, Dan, I'm having the best time."
"Well don't get too comfortable, I need you back here yesterday, we have moves to make!"
"Why, whats the latest?"
"You remember Mendocino?"
"The action movie?" I furrowed my brow, remembering the audition a few months prior. "Yeah, I remember — the girl-scientist part."
"Not the sexism!" He faux-gasped. "She was a scientist, not a 'girl-scientist'!"
"No, no, no — in movies like that there are scientists and then there are girl-scientists who are just there to take off their glasses and look scoldingly at the lead guy and then kiss them ninety minutes later."
"Ok, amazing," he laughed. "So you do remember it!"
"How could I forget it, they made me say 'Look out! Xander's figured out how to recapitulate the photons — the weapon's gone nuclear!' like fifteen times."
"Well, it's a good thing you still remember the lines, because they want you."
I froze, my stomach dropping.
"What do you mean they want me?" I scoffed, laughing. "They were so visibly uninterested!"
"Well, I'm not gonna sugarcoat it — they cast somebody else, and that somebody else dropped out because they're knocked up, so now it's all yours, baby!"
Wow, I've never felt so wanted.
I paused for a moment, processing the news.
"Hello??" Dan laughed into the phone. "Girl, are you not jumping for joy? This is gonna be a franchise!"
"Yeah, no—" I rubbed my eyes, nodding fervently. "No, it's awesome, I'm psyched, I..."
"You do not sound psyched, babygirl," he said with a weary but amused voice. "What's goin' on?"
"Nothing! Nothing, I just... the script was kind of..."
"Look," he cut me off. "You know its cheesy, I know its cheesy, I'm sure even the writers know its cheesy — but its gonna make bank, and even though the part isn't as complex as we both know you can do, it'll get you on a massive platform."
My head was spinning. We both knew what "massive platform" meant — it meant currency in this business. Bigger exposure meant more choice of roles with higher profile directors, fancier costars, way bigger paychecks. At the same time, the part was the opposite of exciting, and only there to set up the lead male's far more interesting arc.
"I can hear the cogs turning..." Dan said in a sing-song voice. "Look, it's quick turnaround — you'd have to fly back on Friday. I'm gonna go over the contracts and make sure they're ready for you by the time you get here, and—"
"Woah, woah—" I interjected. "Friday? As in the day after tomorrow?"
"Yeah," said Dan, confused. "You wrap tomorrow, don't you? How long were you planning on staying there?"
I sucked in a tight breath, running a hand through my hair. The truth was, I'd been deliberately not thinking about it. I knew I was going back, but I'd been devotedly pushing off the when of it all until the last possible moment.
"No, I was planning on coming right back," I said, clearing my throat. "Listen, I've gotta get back to set, but send me everything that comes in about the contract and tell them thank you so much for the offer."
"That sounds... vaguely nebulous, I'm sorry, I'm confused — are you taking the job?"
I hesitated for a second, then shook my head, frustrated with myself.
"Yes. Yeah. I'll be there."
"Amazing! I'll send you all the details as they come in. Be ready to fly out on Friday and sign at my office when you land."
I rejoined the group at the craft table, feeling a little overwhelmed. I simultaneously felt thrilled for this chance to step into the mainstream, and reeling with sadness about the fact that my time in England now had a very concrete expiration date — and that was only forty-eight hours away.
Ben instantly picked up on the fact that my smile wasn't reaching my eyes and my voice was a little softer than usual.
"Hey," he said quietly, coming to my side at the craft table. "You okay?"
"Yeah!" I shot him a laborious smile. "I'm good — I'm... I actually just got some good news from my agent."
"Oh yeah?" He said, his eyes lighting up. "What happened?"
"I got a part!" I said. "In a big action movie — it's not exactly Hedda Gabbler, but it's big budget and splashy and it sounds like it might be kind of a blockbuster."
"What?" He grinned, excited for me. "Maggie! That's brilliant, well done!"
"Yeah! Yeah, it's great, it, um..." I looked up at him, and I could feel my smile faltering. "It shoots next week so I'm having to fly out... on Friday."
A shadow of alarm passed behind his eyes as his forehead creased just a little.
"Ah," he said softly. "Right. That's... this Friday?"
"Day after tomorrow," I said. We looked at each other for a moment, the air heavy between us. After a beat, I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. Instead, I shrugged one shoulder and bit my lip, fighting the urge to crumble.
"Wow," he murmured. Then, he touched my arm and smiled warmly, despite the sadness I could see behind it. "Well. That's a huge accomplishment, and I'm really, really proud of you."
My chest swelled with feeling. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, but I fought the impulse nobly. Instead I smiled back, thanking him silently for being so supportive. He gave my arm a quick squeeze and left to go back to going over his script. I stood there for a moment, instructing myself silently to not fall apart. When I looked around, Martha was watching me, curiously. I wandered over to where she was sitting.
"Fancy going to the coffee cart?" She said as I approached, spying the troubled look in my eye.
As we walked through the trailers and tents to the cart, I filled her in.
"Oh, Maggie," she beamed. "That's brilliant — I mean it does sound like a genuinely stupid script—"
I burst out laughing and nodded, grateful that she had the same sense of humor about it that I did.
"—but its still a huge deal!"
"It is!" I nodded, kicking a pebble as we walked. "It is, I know its the right thing to do, I'm just going to be really sad to leave."
"Because of Ben?" She lowered her voice and looked over at me sadly.
"Because of everything," I mumbled with a wan chuckle. "It's... urgh, I feel so stupid, this is a very good thing. I just... I've just really, really liked working here. It's been an absolute dream, and I'm going to miss it all."
We walked in silence for a moment as I took a breath.
"And... yeah." I shoved my hands in the pocket of my hoodie, lowering my voice. "I'm really sad to leave Ben."
I felt the pinpricks of tears beginning to brim and looked up, trying to clear them with an embarrassed laugh.
"I actually can't believe how sad I am to leave him — I mean, this is crazy, I just met this guy!"
She put her arm around my shoulder and pulled me in for a side hug.
"Oh, darling," she said, rubbing my arm bracingly. "You two!"
I cleared the residual brimming with my sweatshirt cuff and regained control.
"Can't you... I mean..." Martha stopped walking and turned to me, thoughtfully. "Can't you do long distance?"
I chuckled mirthlessly and looked at the gravel beneath my feet.
"I've done long distance, Martha. It didn't work with a three-hour time difference, let alone across an ocean."
"Right," she said, accepting my answer. "Fair enough. I just want you both to be happy, thats all."
"I know," I said, grinning through my pain. "That's why you're the best."
I grabbed her and and turned to her seriously, a fresh wave of emotion bubbling up in my chest.
"You will keep in touch, right?" I said, fearfully. "I mean, it's not just Ben — I'm going to miss you all so much—"
She pulled me in for a tight hug and the tears came, spilling over my cheeks.
"Oh, darling, of course," she soothed. "We're mates for life, whether you like it or not."
By the time we returned with our lattés, it was time to get back to work — and I'd worked through my wobble. We shot two more scenes before I was released early to go home and get ready for the premiere.
"You guys will be there at seven, right?" I asked, blowing kisses to the cast as I grabbed my things. "I can't wait, see you all soon!"
They all nodded, grinning and waving. I locked eyes with Ben and we exchanged a sad but fond smile.
As I clambered into the car, I shot off a text to him.
-Can't wait to see you in a suit
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes as we whizzed through the countryside, steadying my breath. After a moment, my phone chirped:
-You're telling me this isn't fancy dress? What am I supposed to do with the Chippendale's outfit I got off the internet? x
I laughed, leaning my head against the window.
Ok, Maggie, I thought, scoldingly. Time to get out of the funk and into Press Mode.
A few hours later, I found myself stepping out of a black towncar and onto a red carpet. I had been to quite a few red carpet events now, and they still thrilled me like it was the first time. The energy was electric as the press clamored to get interviews with the glitterati that had come out for the event. Fans stood behind a barricade and whooped as their favorites walked by.
"Train, train, train!" My publicist, Megan, was following me out of the car and yanking the train of my dress out of the way of the car tire.
"Oh, god," I gasped, looking down. "Close one, thanks Megan."
She stood up and straightened my dress straps. I'd found an especially good one — a cherry red silk gown with thin straps and a scooping cowl neck that skimmed my body down past my hips to my knees, where it flew out into a soft chiffon flare.
"It's giving Jessica Rabbit," Megan had said through a cloud of vape smoke, and that had been inducement enough for me.
I did the step-and-repeat, finally getting to the point where I was confident enough to just stand there rather than defaulting to the cursed millennial teapot-pose I'd been doing since yearbook pictures. Then, I stopped by the barricade where the fans were waiting. This was my favorite part of the whole thing. Growing up, I was absolutely in love with my favorite performers and their work. I was the girl with the playbill at the stagedoor after Broadway shows. Meeting people who showed up for my projects made me feel such an intense, meaningful kinship.
I took a few selfies and signed a few posters, my heart almost bursting with gratitude.
By the time I was further down the carpet giving interviews, I felt like I was flying. I was just in the middle of answering a question from the NME about my thoughts on the British music scene, when a joyful sight caught my eye.
I looked back to the step-and-repeat just in time to see Ben, Mat, Jim, Martha, Simon, and Larry getting into a pose for photos.
"Would you excuse me, please?" I cast an apologetic smile to the interviewer before slipping through the crowds back to the step-and-repeat. When the cast saw me, they burst into warm greetings and waved me over. Martha deliberately made room for me in the back row between her and Ben.
Thanks, girl, I thought gratefully. You're a real one.
I hurried in to crash the photo, making pointed eye contact with Ben as I came to stand next to him. He didn't disappoint — he was wearing a crisp white button down with a perfectly-cut black suit and narrow, 60s-esque tie. His hair was freshly washed and perfectly styled, and he smelled like a lovely woody cologne, and the moment I came close to him my head started to swim with attraction.
I swept my hand over the small of his back and smiled toward the cameras. Ben's hand slipped across my back and wandered gently down for a brief moment before settling on my hip. My mouth twisted as I fought a laugh. We all held the pose for the photograph, and in the chatter as we pulled apart, I leaned close to him.
"You look like James Bond," I whispered. He clearly loved that compliment — I saw him bite back a smile while his cheeks turned pink.
"You don't want to get me started on how you look," he whispered through an aroused smirk, trying to look casual.
My eyes wandered down his chest. I pictured a few hours later when his tie would be loosened and his white shirt would be rolled up at the sleeves, and I felt giddy with anticipation. After a quick flirtatious glance up at him, I cleared my throat and turned my attention to Martha, whose long-sleeved navy gown was working fabulously with her shiny blonde hair.
"Okay," I raved, hooking my elbow with hers as we cleared the step-and-repeat and began walking down the carpet as a group. "You look insanely stunning."
"I could say the same for you!" She said, looking down at my dress. "You look like Marilyn Monroe or something!"
I glanced up ahead of us just in time to see Ben sneak a look over his shoulder and bite back a wry smile.
I grinned and looked sheepishly over at Martha, who laughed.
"Good lord, you two," she chuckled quietly. "Get a room!"
After many more interviews for all of us, we headed into the theater. I found myself sitting between Mat and Ben, wringing my hands nervously. I always felt a little weird watching my own stuff, especially with other people, but doing it in London with a whole different set of industry people had my stomach even more in knots. Ben looked down at my twisting hands and leaned over, his soft voice in my ear sending a pleasant shiver down my spine.
"It's going to be great," he murmured, warmly.
"Thanks," I said, smiling back at him.
The film began and I settled back into my seat.
It's always so weird to watch something through someone else's eyes. I'd seen the film a few times before — It was a fun, sweet watch in my opinion: an indie movie about a women's softball team who get into rigging games to save up money for their coach's cancer treatment. But as I watched it this time, I found myself listening closely to the crowd's response. While it was clear that the more poignant moments landed well, the comedy was... not exactly hitting. It was a little bit raunchy, and after the fifth joke was met with little more than a polite titter, I found myself worrying.
By the end of the film, it was clear that it hadn't been the runaway hit it was becoming in the US. It got polite applause, and plenty of people seemed to like it fine, but there was clearly a cultural block in terms of the humor. I felt a sinking feeling in the pit in my stomach.
"That was so lovely!" Mat turned to me, his hand on his chest. "Honestly, that was such a weirdly beautiful story -- And you were so good!"
"Thank you," I grinned, sheepishly, but my mind was beginning to swirl with all the classic actor insecurities.
"I loved it," said Ben warmly on my other side.
And to be fair, my group had been very game — they laughed at all the jokes, seemed moved by the tenderness of the concept, and even whooped when my name came up in the credits, bless them.
I turned to Ben and couldn't help but grin — he was looking at me proudly.
"Good lord, you're funny," he murmured with a wry smile, and I beamed. His eyes crinkled at the corners as they flicked between mine, slipping down to my mouth for a moment.
I could tell we both desperately wanted to lean over and steal a kiss, but we silently agreed that there was plenty of time for that later.
We headed out into the theater's lobby where the post-screening cocktail party was taking place. I overheard a few people saying they liked the film, but others saying they thought that the jokes were too blue, or that the humor wasn't very intelligent.
"Typically American," said one older man with an eye-roll. I swallowed hard and forced a smile as we strode past him and found a place to gather near a couple of cocktail tables that had been set up.
Simon and Mat went off to get everyone drinks from the open bar, while Mat, Martha and Larry were eagerly asking questions about what the process was like learning to play softball (laughable given my intense lack of athleticism) and which castmate was the biggest diva (easily Fern, who played the lead — but in a fun, almost endearing way, not a mean way). Ben was quiet but I kept stealing looks over at him, because the look on his face gave me butterflies and made my heart turn over in my chest. He was beaming down at me, like he was delighting in my success — like he was so proud of me that it lit him up just to witness me earning my laurels. It was a look I had seldom seen a man sport when it came to my job. Unfortunately, I was used to finding my suitors quickly growing acerbic and bizarrely competitive when I made strides in my career. Now, with Ben's eyes bright and engaged as he watched me talk at length about my film, I couldn't understand why I had ever put up with anything less than this.
Ok, I thought to myself. Whatever happens, this is the new bar. This is the new goalpost.
It was hard not to let my gaze linger on him. Every time our eyes met, I could feel my cheeks flushing and my grin getting wider. After a while, I slipped away to head to the bathroom — I didn't know how I was going to work a public stall in this skintight number, but I was prepared to find out.
I was halfway across the room when I felt a hand grasp my arm, stopping me. I wheeled around, fully prepared to see Ben following me to sneak outside and steal a quick kiss -- but it wasn't Ben.
"Maggie."
My blood froze and my breath caught in my chest as I took in the tall figure in front of me, looking down from under stylish chestnut curls, his blue suit more expensive than anything I'd ever seen him wear. I felt paralyzed, unable to pull my arm away from his grasp or move my feet from their spot on the carpet. Finally, I spoke with a raspy growl.
"...Jason?"