Playing at Forever (17 page)

“Have you shown that to anybody else?” 

“It doesn’t matter.”  He was already hurrying down the stairs, trying to escape her.  But it was too bad for Tommy that Penny was not the type to just let things so. 

Especially when she thought they were worth fighting for. 

“Tommy,”
  He
made a beeline for the terrace and Penny followed after.  “
Tommy
.” 

“
What
?” 

“Would you just sit still for five seconds?  Please.”  Finally he turned around, his arms crossed over his chest like a sullen child.  “First of all, that story—that script—whatever you want to call it—that was
not
a waste of time.  I sat there thinking I was reading something you were going to be starring in and I was prepared to tell you that, if you didn’t do that movie, I would no longer consider you a friend.” 

Penny took a step closer.  “I mean, it brought me to tears, Tommy.  And it really touched me on so many different levels—you
have
to show that to someone.”

“You shouldn’t have read it, Penny.  You just—you shouldn’t have.” 

“Why not?
  It’s
good
!” 

“Are you lying to me?  Or do you really mean that?”  There was something almost desperate about his tone.   

“I have no reason at all to lie to you. 
None.”
 

“And you really think it’s good?” 

“Honestly, I think it’s
better
than good.” 

Once she had started reading, she couldn’t look away.  Tommy had written a beautiful story about a man who, after the death of his wife during childbirth, gave up his own little girl.  He then spiraled downward, losing himself to drugs and alcohol—anything that would make the memories go away and the pain stop.  But then, one day, a young girl—starving and homeless—showed up on his doorstep and changed his life forever. 

Penny had been so moved that she’d cried several times, and then, once she’d finished, she’d gone back to reread it. 

“You don’t think it’s depressing?”  Her expression became one of confusion.  Who could think that story was depressing? 

“No, I think it’s just the opposite.”  There were heavy themes throughout the story, but she found them in no way depressing.  “It’s a story about hope, Tommy.  Isn’t it?” 

Tommy sat down on a chair beside the pool, resting his head in his hands. 

“I don’t know what it’s a story about, Pen.  All I know is that I sat there in that chair for a week straight.  I hardly slept.  Hardly ate.  It was like I was possessed.”  She watched as he sighed, closing his eyes.  “I only know that it feels like it’s something important.”

“Have you shown it to anyone else?” 

“Graham.  He’s shopped it around a bit.” 

“And how has the response been?”  She couldn’t imagine it being anything but good. 

“They like the story.” 

“Tommy, that’s great—”
  Her
feet were already carrying her closer to him.

“They don’t like me all that much, though.”  Penny stopped, not understanding.  “I’ve shopped it around with the condition that I play the lead.  The studios haven’t been too receptive of that idea.”

“Why not?”
  Wasn’t Tommy a big enough actor?  He would pull in an audience, of that she was certain.

“They don’t think it’s my kind of role.”  Understanding quickly washed over her. 
Of course.
  Tommy had done nothing outside of the action genre.  “Maybe they’re right.”

“Clearly they never saw you on the stage.”  She did go to his side now, kneeling down beside him.  “Tommy, you are more than capable of playing that role.  I know it.”

“Too bad you don’t run a studio.” 

“Well, we’ll just have to come up with a way of convincing someone who does, then.  I’m going to make it my mission.”  She meant it, too.  Tommy was doing so much for her by helping her to buy Kevin out, letting her live her dream. 

The least Penny could do was return the favor. 

Tommy had a hard time sleeping that night, his head spinning.  Penny was someone whose opinion he regarded
very
highly.  And if she thought he could pull it off…

Well, that meant something to him. 

His hard time sleeping turned into a hard time concentrating and he stumbled through most of his meetings, glad that Graham was there to pick up the slack—something Graham made certain to point out that evening, on the way home.  “You weren’t even listening to Garrison back there, were you?”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.” 

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with our blossoming little flower, would it?”  Tommy glared at his manager for a moment.  “Just remember that this is all business—for both of you.  She’s merely playing the role of your love interest, and in the end, she gets a paycheck just like every other girl in this business.  I’m not saying you can’t mix a little business with pleasure—I couldn’t blame you there.  But I will say I think it’s a
very
bad idea.” 

“Shut up, Graham,”
  Tommy
turned to look out the window.  “I think I want to push my script again.”

“You mean your dark and gloomy piece?” 

“It’s not dark and gloomy. 
Fate
is a story about hope, Graham.  Did you even read it?”  Tommy had thought a lot about it last night and Penny was right.  The story wasn’t about the dark place the main character was in—it was about his climb out of it. 

“Of course I read it.”  Graham sighed, rubbing his neck.  “I don’t know, Tom.  Let’s give it some time.  See how this revamping of your image goes.”

“And I don’t want to do another
Gunpoint
flick.  I sat through that meeting as a favor to you and Mark, but I don’t want to do it.” 
Gunpoint
had been one of his biggest moneymakers, but he couldn’t stand the thought of doing yet another. 

“Tom, you know how much money they’re offering you.”

“I don’t care.  I’m sick of doing these stupid, plot-less movies.  The only reason people go to see them is for the explosions.”

“Does the reason people see a movie really matter that much?  Isn’t it just so long as they see it?” 

“I know your paycheck rides on mine, Graham, but you should probably be just a little less obvious about it.”  Tommy snapped.  His patience was short these days, and Graham seemed to know just how to push his buttons the wrong way. 

“So how was dinner last night?”  Graham asked after a few minutes. 

“Dinner was great.”  He thought back to the night before.  Things had gone just as well last night as they had the night before.  Penny was made to shine—he’d always thought so.  “You’re not flying back with us, are you?” 

“Don’t sound so happy about it.”  But Tommy couldn’t help it.  Only a few days back in L.A. and he was already ready for another break.  He reached up and unbuttoned the top couple of buttons of his shirt, suddenly feeling as if he were suffocating.  “You’ll be back in a few weeks for the
Mission
premier, don’t forget that.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“And I’ve lined up some New York spots for you.”

“Thanks.”  He was itching to get out of the car. 

“Don’t mention it.”  Graham’s tone was sarcastic and Tommy wondered for a moment what Graham could possibly have to be angry about.  Tommy’s life was the one under constant scrutiny.  He was the one who had to get permission before he could even so much as move.  Graham was just the one who pulled the strings. 

“I’ll see you later.”  Tommy practically jumped from the car as the driver pulled into the driveway. 

“Have a nice flight.” 
Again with the sarcasm.
  Tommy didn’t even turn around, though he wanted to—but he thought better of it, especially with all of the photographers.  Anything he might have said to Graham probably wouldn’t bode well for his image.

A very homey scent greeted him as he entered the house, his feet carrying him closer to the kitchen.  He smiled as he watched her for a few moments, dancing around the kitchen, assumedly to music only she could hear. 

For only a moment—because anything more would have been too much—Tommy imagined that this was his life.  That he would come home from a set after a long day and he would find Penny, just like this.  His house would smell like a home—even better, it would
feel
like a home. 

He could be so happy, he thought. 

“I think this is the first time anybody has ever actually
cooked
in this kitchen.”  His voice brought him back to the present, the images in his head fading as Penny turned around.  It was obvious he’d embarrassed her, her cheeks burning red. 

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me.  You know, you didn’t even have salt and pepper here.” 

“I order in a lot.”  Tommy shrugged, stepping further into the kitchen and taking a seat at the island. 

“Still—salt and pepper?”
 

“They come in the little packets.”  Penny laughed, shaking her head.  “So what’s for dinner?” 

“Lasagna.”
  She was totally in her element—dressed in a pair of cotton looking shorts and a plain white tank top, her hair up in some sort of ponytail.  It made him happy just seeing her happy. 

“Anything I can do?” 

“Nope, it’s actually just about done.”  She set a wineglass in front of him and poured him a glass.  “It’s no top shelf Merlot, but it’s not bad.”  He took a sip, nodding his head.

“Did you go shopping?”  It was an obvious question, but one he asked simply for the sake of keeping her going.  Her happiness was infectious. 

“Just picked up a few things.
  Thought I’d take advantage of this big
ol
’ kitchen nobody ever uses.”  She turned around to check the time.  “Why don’t you go change into something a little more comfortable?”

“Are you suggesting something?”  He couldn’t help himself.  Every once and awhile, he had to make some sort of a comment just to get a rise out of her.  Her response was typical—she hit him on the shoulder before shooing him away. 

It wasn’t until he was upstairs, changing into a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt that he remembered something Penny had said back in
Ravenside
.  The sun was mostly done setting, the sky kind of glowing.  Penny had made a very simple request—he could at least make sure she got that one thing. 

By the time he returned to the kitchen, Penny had already cut him a large piece of lasagna and set it on a plate beside his wine glass.  She watched him as he sat down, waiting for him to take his first bite. 

For good reason—her lasagna was pretty amazing. 

“So?  Do you like it?” 

“I would have to say that this lasagna is among the best I’ve eaten.  And I’ve been around the block a few times when it comes to lasagna.”  Penny giggled, satisfied with herself.  They ate mostly in silence—but the comfortable kind of silence that came with knowing someone well enough that they didn’t even have to talk to know what they were thinking. 

“I’m stuffed,”
  she
confessed finally, sitting back in her chair.  “I can’t even eat another bite.” 

“I’m surprised you ate that much.” 

“I didn’t eat anything all day, so I was pretty hungry.  Now, however…I’m regretting it.”  Tommy laughed, standing up and taking her plate.  “I can get that—” 

“You made dinner; I’ll get the clean-up.  You go ahead and sit back.”

“Well, how was your day then?”  She asked, resting her elbow on the island so that she could look at him. 

“You
know,
business as usual.” 

“Talk to anybody about your script?”  He had been waiting for that. 

“I mentioned it to Graham again.  He thinks we should wait.” 

“Well, I think Graham is an idiot.”  Penny shrugged her shoulders.  “But that’s just me.”

“He means well.  He just…his priorities aren’t always in the right order.”  Tommy had known Graham for a long time.  He’d always been a pretty good guy—it was just a matter of seeing through the façade.  Once upon a time, he’d been just like Tommy—and where Tommy had found fame, Graham had found fortune, which was all he’d really wanted in the end. 

“Well, regardless of what Graham thinks—I just want to make sure you pursue it, Tommy.  It’s a good story.  It deserves to be told.  And I think you’re the perfect person to tell it.” 

He wished he could tell her how much it meant that she had so much faith in him. 

It had always been his driving force, even if she hadn’t known it. 

Of course, he couldn’t tell her either of these, though.  He already felt as if he’d told her too much.  As angry as he’d been with Graham earlier, he knew his manager was right.  This was, in the end, just business.  No matter how much he wanted to believe otherwise, this was all just a means to an end. 

And for the very same reasons he had let Penny go before, he would have to do it again.  Any thought to the contrary, he was just fooling himself.

But not yet, he told himself.  No, not yet.  There was still time left. 

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.  I’ll make sure I keep it in mind.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

“I know you are, Pen.  So am I.” 

“Good,”
  she
sighed quietly, turning to look around the room.  Tommy finished the dishes and turned to find her looking at him.  “I remember when we used to sit in my parents kitchen, just like this.  Who would’ve thought how different things would be ten years down the line.” 

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”  He told her, finishing the last of the dishes and setting them aside. 

“I am not,”
  she
perked up immediately, but her eyes still looked heavy. 

“Yes you are.”  She gave him a dirty look and Tommy just laughed, shaking his head at her.  “Come on, I want to show you something.” 

“What do you want to show me?”  Her tone was very suspicious.  “Because I remember when Chris Jenkins fed me that line in third grade—and it was not at
all
what I wanted to see.” 

“Well, I think you’ll like this.”  He laughed as he made his way toward the door at the back of the kitchen, which led outside.