"Oh, of course!" Clay says loudly. "But yes, she is. One can be sexy and talented at the same time. Just like me. Just like you, Peter Holleman." Everybody laughs. "Someday," Clay continues, "I'll get to direct you, Peter Holleman. It will be great. We'll be great."
Peter nods. "It will be an honor."
"You bet your sweet, tight ass it will."
And then he's lurching back onto the dance floor, accepted by a bunch of smiling people, and he dances with all of them.
"Working with him must have been an adventure."
"It certainly wasn't boring," I say, knocking back the rest of my drink in one go.
His hand rubs my thigh again and I'm thinking about other, dirtier things. "Are you okay? He was getting close."
"Yeah, I'm fine. He's like that when he's drunk. He's never so much as mentioned the fact that I'm sexy when he's sober."
Peter frowns. "That doesn't make it okay."
"There's not really a good time to bring it up." He still doesn't look happy, but he nods. I lean forward so that this time I'm the one whispering in his ear. "But I like that you're protective of me."
"I am," he says. "From everyone and everything." And then under his breath, “Especially from him.”
I look up and see Michael almost at our table. “What?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
Michael smiles at us as he steps up to the table. “My two stars.”
I haven’t interacted with Michael much, but he strikes me as a typical Hollywood agent: A little slimy, but in a way that gets the job done. But I don’t like that smile.
Peter smiles easily. “Hello, Michael.”
I nod to him. He slides into the booth, but thankfully not nearly as close as Clay did. “Michael said he’d mentioned our idea to you.”
“He did. I’m definitely interested. I like working with Peter. Are you thinking that it will be a formal agreement?”
“Right now we’re just floating an idea. Does a creative partnership feel like something that would be beneficial to both of you?”
“I think it could be good. There’s a lot of trust that goes into creating something, and the better you know someone, the faster you can get past the awkwardness and into making something that’s really good.”
“I agree,” Peter says.
“Excellent,” Michael says, “In that case—”
“That said,” Peter interrupts, “there will have to be some caveats.”
“Of course.” Michael looks a little miffed, like he’s offended that Peter would interrupt him to say that, but he recovers well. “What would they be?”
“The entire idea is for us to find projects for us to work on and both creatively fulfilled, but all projects have to be mutually agreed upon by both Amber and me. There won’t be any penalties if either one of us decides to do a project individually, and finally, if either of us think that the partnership isn’t working, there won’t be any penalties for dissolving it.”
Michael narrows his eyes, and I see his jaw tighten. “If those are the caveats, then it might be better to have a verbal agreement.”
I tilt my head. “Why?”
He matches my stare. “If you both can do whatever you want, then what’s the point? The goal of this was to create a combined brand for the two of you, but if neither of you want that, it’s a moot point.”
“Hold on,” Peter says, holding up a hand. “I think it’s okay to create a partnership and a reputation for working together without taking away both of our options.”
“I agree,” I say. “I would love to collaborate, but I don’t want to take away the possibility of working on a project that I love that Peter isn’t right for. And the same for him. I would never want to take a part away from him because I’m not the right person or don’t have enough clout to direct a project.” I internally shake my head. If I made that bargain, I’d be cutting Peter off from more than half of the parts he could get.
Michael sighs. "Well then, we'll definitely stick to a verbal agreement."
I glance over at Peter, who looks back at me with a stunned look on his face. "Michael, this is the best interest of both of us, and it was your idea. You seem unhappy."
"I was envisioning you two heading an empire of movies together, not just working together whenever you damn well please."
I see the shock roll through Peter, and then the way he goes still and cold. "How much have you had to drink tonight?" he asks pointedly.
"Clearly not enough," Michael says, knocking back the rest of whatever is in his glass and motioning to a nearby waitress to bring him another.
"Yeah," Peter says, "You have. Michael, do me a favor? Fuck off until you're sober. I'll call you tomorrow."
Michael laughs darkly and shakes his head. "You think you can talk to me like that? I made you."
"Okay." Peter takes my hand and guides me out of the booth. "You stay right there, we'll be right back."
We're halfway through the crowd before I can get myself together enough to ask, "What the hell is going on?"
"He doesn't look like it, but he's trashed," Peter says, voice flat. "I don't think I've ever been around him when he's been drunk. Only tipsy, if that. He needs to go home, and like hell was I going to leave you with him while I get security."
In the chaos of the crowd, I weave our fingers together. "Thank you."
We make it to the bar, and Peter explains what's happening with Michael. The bartender clearly knows who Peter is, and within minutes we watch as two very large security guys approach Michael and escort him out of the bar. I thought he might fight it, but he goes quietly, though that might have something to do with the firm hands that they each have on his shoulders.
"That was...really weird," I say.
The bartender deposits two more of our drinks in front of us and I take a long, delicious sip of the purple one. I'm definitely starting to feel it now, but I'm not so drunk that I don't think Michael is a fucking creep, and before I know it, I'm saying that out loud.
"Yeah," Peter says. "I'm going to talk to him. He's been acting strange recently, and not a kind of strange I'm comfortable with."
"What were you going to tell me later?"
He nods. "Yeah, ever since the first day on set, Michael has been on this tear, convinced that I was going to sleep with you. It doesn't matter that it was true. He was really overly interested in our past, and I made it crystal fucking clear that our personal history was none of his business. But he hasn't let it go. I thought when he brought up the partnership that he had kind of...gotten his shit together. Clearly not."
"I'm sorry."
Peter waves a hand. "It's fine. I'll talk to him when he's not six martinis in and make sure we're on the same page. If not...I'll figure it out."
"Yeah, but it still sucks."
He smiles. "Yeah, it still sucks.”
My head feels pleasantly light, and I think about when I went into the bathroom earlier, what I heard. I'm also thinking about Peter's hand on my thigh and how I want his hands other places. I need him, and even though I need to be careful, I don't think I want to wait until we get to my house. "You remember when you got here and I was bright red?" I ask him, aware that the first drink is hitting me all at once in a way that I really like.