"Right," I said with a slow nod. "I'm not very good with money or numbers, so I'll have to ask my lawyer to go over it with you, or with someone else from Columbia, at a later date."
Frank Price's smile widened, as if he had just uncovered my excuse for what it was. If I hadn't offered that line, he would have pushed me to sign the contract immediately, and I was in no mood to create unnecessary friction.
"Was that all on your end?" I asked.
"Just one more thing," he replied, drawing out the words, clearly savoring the moment. "Columbia would have the right of first refusal, or a first-look deal for your upcoming feature-length scripts."
Ah. Of course. First look deals—tricky ground.
"What exactly would that deal entail?" I asked. I already had a decent understanding from the countless conversations I'd had with Doug and Randal back on the island. They had schooled me in the pitfalls a Hollywood writer-director should watch out for, but Frank's definition might come with strings attached.
"It means that for the next four years, Columbia will have the option to purchase any script you write before anyone else can. We would have at least a month to decide. If we pass on it, you are free to take it to another studio. However, even then, Columbia retains the right to match their offer and acquire the script first.
"Every year you write at least one script, you will receive fifty thousand dollars, regardless of whether we buy it or not. After two years, if nothing of value has come out of the deal, Columbia may terminate the contract."
The more he explained, the more enticing it sounded. On the surface, there didn't seem to be any real downside. At least, not if I were planning to confine myself to writing and acting. But I wasn't. I wanted to step behind the camera. That was where the roadblock lay.
"Why four years?" I asked.
"Because you'll be finishing your degree in four years," he replied without hesitation.
It made sense. And since Columbia could walk away after the second year, if I failed to deliver anything substantial, they would certainly cut ties.
Still, fifty thousand dollars a year was a fortune in 1979. The temptation to accept the offer outright was strong, but one thought stopped me from doing so.
"What if I wanted to direct one of my own films?" I asked. "I may have given you Risky Business, but with the next one, I really wanted to try directing it myself."
"You won't have the time," Frank said with surprising passion. "Three months of summer break might be enough to act in a movie, but directing requires at least half a year, just for pre- and post-production. And let's be honest, you don't have any real experience. Making a full-length feature film is a different beast from shooting a few isolated scenes where you had an experienced director looking over your shoulder. If you want to direct that badly, you'll need to give up college and dedicate yourself completely to filmmaking. I can set you up as a second assistant director on a few projects we're producing. Spend a year or two learning, build a portfolio of quality short films or concept reels, and if those turn out well, you'll get a shot at a small-budget feature. That's how things work here. You can't have your cake and eat it too."
The choice weighed on me heavily. Going to college wasn't just about education. It was my rebellion against Dad, who once insisted I wasn't capable of it. Enrolling had been my way of saying, loud and clear, that he was wrong and I was right. Even if I only stayed for a year, I needed that victory.
"I'll have to think about the college part," I said carefully. My personal reasons weren't something I wanted to discuss with Frank when I barely knew him. "I'll accept your writing deal, but with one condition. If another studio or production company or I arrange funds from anywhere that allows me to direct one of my scripts, I'll be free to take that deal over yours."
Frank's eyes narrowed as he considered it. After a moment, he gave a slow nod. "Unless we match the offer. Alright. I'll accept it."
I rose from my seat and extended a hand. "Glad we reached an agreement. My lawyer will be in touch with your New York office to finalize the details."
"Perfect," Frank said with a small nod of approval. "Now, go get some rest. You look like you could use it. I'll have my driver drop you off wherever you'd like."
(Break)
I moved briskly toward the immigration line at JFK Airport, pulling my two heavy suitcases behind me. Julie and the others trailed somewhere behind, but I was too eager to escape the suffocating chaos of the terminal to wait. After more than a day spent on planes and in crowded waiting areas, my legs practically carried me at a half-run.
"Noah!"
The voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned, and there she was, my sweet little sister, sprinting toward me with unrestrained joy. She didn't care about the travelers staring as she flung herself into my arms. Her hug was tight, almost desperate, as though she was afraid I might leave again if she let go.
"Hey, Daisy! What are you doing here so early? Didn't you have school today?" I asked playfully, though my chest warmed with relief and happiness at seeing her.
Behind her, Zach and Jordan strolled at a calmer pace. Zach's grin was wide, his excitement impossible to hide, while Jordan wore the serene smile of someone who didn't need to say much to be understood.
"It's Saturday, dummy," Daisy said with a laugh, pulling back just enough to look at me. "And school's ending in a week anyway, so missing a day doesn't matter."
Of course, the school year should have ended around this time. I had left in mid-February and was now back in mid-May.
I turned toward the other two figures waiting nearby.
"Hey, big bro," Zach said, trying his best to sound cool. But I could see right through him; he was fighting the same impulse Daisy had given into. I didn't hold back. As soon as I let go of Daisy, I pulled him into a bear hug.
"Ugh, let me go," he muttered, though his voice carried no real annoyance.
I laughed but released him all the same, then reached out to hug Jordan. He patted my back in a steady, reassuring rhythm, like a silent show of pride. It was something I had always wanted to see from Dad but rarely did.
"Had a blast making that movie, kid?" Jordan asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Surprisingly, yes, I did," I replied with a nod. "We had so much fun there, it's not even—"
"Hold on." Jordan raised a hand to stop me. "As much as I want to hear this, the parking meter's running, and I don't want to pay a dollar more than I have to. Let's go."
I nodded and glanced around the terminal. Peter and Ash were off with their families, being swept up in hugs and chatter. Julie, on the other hand, stood off to the side, her posture awkward and stiff. No one was there for her. Seeing her alone like that hit me hard. The way her family had treated her over her doing The Blue Lagoon was cruel and unfair.
Sure, if my sister had done that film, I wouldn't have liked it either, but I wouldn't have cut her off the way Julie's family had.
"Hey, Julie!" I called. "Need a ride? We've got space." The words left my mouth before I'd even thought them through.
"We do?" Jordan asked, one eyebrow arched in mock surprise. "I didn't know that."
"You have an SUV," I reminded him.
Julie hesitated and shook her head. "Don't worry, I'll take a cab. It's not far from here anyway."
"Come on," I said, handing my luggage to my siblings before moving to take hers. "Let's go already. Jordan's parking meter is running."
"Damn right it is," Jordan muttered.
Julie thought about it for all of two seconds before nodding and following me towards Jordan's car.
(Break)
I pressed the tape down on the final box, sealing the last of my belongings, and then sank into the chair by the wall. Moving out was exhausting, but at least this time it was my choice. I wasn't being forced to leave.
"So you're really going, huh?"
I looked up. Jordan leaned against the doorframe of my room, his arms crossed loosely.
"I am," I said with a small nod. "I can't live here forever. And now I can afford a place of my own."
"That you can," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I just hoped you'd stay a little longer. Maybe until the end of the summer."
"I'll visit often," I promised. "And if I ever do a photoshoot, you'll be the first person I call."
Jordan chuckled and shook his head. "Don't shackle yourself to me, kid. I want you to fly high and do what's best for your career. I may be good at my job, but the guys at the top magazines and modeling agencies play in an entirely different league."
"You sell yourself short," I interjected. "I used the photography and lighting techniques you taught me over the years while working on The Blue Lagoon. Now the director, Randal Kleiser, believes I'll make a great filmmaker."
"That you will," Jordan said with quiet conviction. "From what you've told me about the script you wrote; it's a good one. I just hope the director does it justice."
"I have a feeling he will," I replied, confidence slipping into my tone.
For a while, neither of us spoke. The silence was comfortable, yet tinged with the weight of parting. Strangely enough, I felt more like I was leaving home in that moment than I had the day I walked out after the fight with Dad. Jordan had given me more than a roof over my head. He had guided me, supported me, and never once demanded anything in return. I couldn't shake the feeling that I owed him something.
Suddenly, an idea struck me.
"Say, Jordan," I began slowly, testing the words before committing. "What do you think about shooting a movie for me? As the cinematographer."
"Me? A cinematographer?" He chuckled, as if the thought itself was absurd.
"Yeah," I said, keeping my tone serious. "Nothing is set in stone yet, but one day I will direct a film of my own. Whether it's a one-week project or something that takes a few months, I can't imagine working with anyone else but you."
"But I'm not a professional," he protested.
"You've got more experience with photography than I do, that's for sure," I countered, half-smiling.
He fell into thoughtful silence, his gaze drifting to the half-sealed boxes stacked by the wall. After a moment, he shrugged. "I guess I could use a break of sorts. And I won't lie—I did try getting into movies when I was younger. It just went nowhere."
"Then it's settled." I extended my hand. "You and I will make my first film together when the time is right."
He clasped my hand firmly, and for the first time in days, I felt like I was carrying hope instead of just baggage.
(Break)
"So, this is your room," Julie said as she led me inside.
It was small and bare, with a single bed tucked against the wall, a plain dresser, a study table with a chair in the corner, and not much else.
"You don't like it?" she asked when I didn't respond right away.
"It's okay," I said carefully, trying not to sound critical. "I just thought, since you've saved up some money, you'd be living in a better place."
There was another reason for my hesitation, though one I kept to myself. A part of me had quietly hoped we might be rooming together. She had already told me on the island that it wasn't happening, and now that reality was staring me in the face, I didn't want to make things awkward before we even had the chance to find our rhythm in a more ordinary setting.
"Hell no," Julie said firmly, shutting down the thought before it could take shape. "I have to support myself now that my parents aren't talking to me. Every penny counts when I have to study at a place like Harvard."
I blinked in surprise. "Harvard? Weren't you going to BU instead?"
"Oh," she said, as if it had slipped her mind. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to get your hopes up. But ever since I met you during the audition, I wanted to test if I was good enough. So I applied in the last round of college applications. Apparently, they liked my grades, because this morning I got my acceptance letter."
"That's great news!" I exclaimed, stepping forward to hug her. Julie giggled in my ear as I twirled her around before setting her gently back on the floor.
The moment should have ended there, but it didn't. Julie stayed close, her gaze steady. Then, without hesitation, she leaned in and kissed me. Her sudden enthusiasm caught me off guard, but I found myself kissing her back. The intensity between us grew quickly, fueled by months of unspoken longing.
Warning: NSFW content ahead
Neither of us said a word as our clothes fell to the floor, one piece at a time. Her soft lips pressed against mine hungrily as my hands unclasped her bra. My hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they moved forward and grabbed her beautiful breasts tightly.
Meanwhile, Julie had lowered my boxer briefs and was now jerking me off, slowly but deliberately.
She ended our kiss and went down on her knees. In her haste, she was not that careful about where she was going, and my dick slapped her across the face unintentionally.
She let out a giggle before saying, "You have no fucking clue how much I wanted to taste this thing when I saw its full length during The Blue Lagoon. And now, finally, I can."
"Go ahead, babe, it's all yours," I said confidently.
She didn't need any more urging because within moments, she had engulfed half of my length down her throat.
"Holy fuck!" I yelled in delight when she swirled her tongue around my glans. "Whoa, you're very good at this."
Invigorated by my words, she tugged on my balls gently, all the while increasing the speed at which her head bobbed up and down my shaft, sending me into a land of bliss.
In that moment, I knew that I was the luckiest bastard in the world with the best roommate any guy could ever want.
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AN: Read up to 40 advanced chapters on my website, or check out my other story, Dreams of Stardom.
Link: www(dot)fablefic(dot)com