fade in, fade out [h.s.]

The Lowpoint

November 2017

Time is a curious, funny thing.

In one moment, Nora is barely twenty-four violating almost every traffic law the state of California has as she races to a tiny café in Melrose to meet Roxy, her agent, and a film producer to discuss Nora's script, and then suddenly, in the blink of an eye, she's almost twenty-six, waking up in a massive Hollywood Hills estate wearing nothing but expensive silk sheets as said talent agent stretches his thick arms high over his head before bringing them back around her warm body.

Time—quite funny, indeed.

The past year of her life has been the biggest head rush Nora has ever encountered before, and while it has been both supplemental and incredible, it's also been slightly terrifying. Because one afternoon she's barging into a fancy Beverly Hills café that only serves organic tea and unsweetened coffee that drips into elegant porcelain from some far away country Nora has never heard of, shaking three separate hands and trying to understand what the words "greenlight" and "consultancy fee" and "bargaining power" even mean as people she has never met before discuss the rights to the script she has spent the better part of her twenties working on.

With wide eyes and trembling fingers, Nora scrambles to jot down names she's not even sure she's spelling correctly, addresses she's not even sure exist, and legal jargon that causes her head to feel unbearably heavy as she struggles to grasp onto any inkling of power she has left of the one hundred and eighty pages staring up at her from the middle of the tiny, round table.

As if the man situated to her left can see the panic attack beginning to bubble inside of her stomach, he interrupts the much smaller man sitting across from Nora with a quick, "Garret, give the girl a minute, yeah? She's barely had a sip of her coffee."

Nora's head snaps in his direction, seemingly unaware that there were other people situated around the table besides her and the hyperactive film producer that hasn't let Nora get a word in edgewise since she first sat down at the table fifteen minutes prior. She feels like an idiot, because of course this new stranger is handsome and kind—a full head of inky black hair clipping just around the edge of his ears, a slight growth of stubble that seems both purposeful and spontaneous coating his sharp jawline, Nordic blue eyes that draw Nora in almost embarrassingly quickly, and warm, strawberry colored lips currently quirked up in a delicious smirk when he realizes that Nora has been staring at him for a beat longer than necessary.

It seems as if the rest of the table does, too, because from her right, Nora can hear Roxy giggling underneath her breath before announcing, "Nora, this is my agent, Scott Goldstein."

"Oh, uh—hi," Nora says awkwardly, bringing her hand that was white-knuckling her red pen so tightly she was almost convinced it would break in half in front of her, holding it outstretched and watching as his big blue eyes shimmer with something that looks like amusement, before sliding his warm hand into hers with a deep smile that showed two straight rows of white teeth.

It's only once Nora feels the pad of his thumb pressing gently against the middle of her palm when she realizes that she had already shaken his hand upon entering the café fifteen minutes ago.

With an embarrassing flush beginning at her neck and working its way up onto the apples of her cheek, Nora drops his hand as if it were made of fire, bringing her attention back to the stuffy man in front of her as he watches their interaction with slanted eyes.

"Anyways, as I was saying—" the shrill sound of Garret's cell phone buzzing against the tabletop interrupts his thought, and with one thick finger held up in Nora's direction, he snatches the device and brings it to his ear with a quick press of a button, barking into the receiver as he weaves through the tables and finishes the call outside.