Cold Reads | HS

Jump Cuts

August 2023   

    I was exhausted.  After three full weeks of meeting with our screenwriter, overseeing audition tapes, and reading through contracts for potential composers, a relaxing Friday night at home would have been perfect.  Nothing sounded less appealing than another late night fake-date with Francesca, especially when it involved two of my closest friends.   

When I called my agent begging for a night off, I was turned down.  That was impossible, Carla informed me.  My busy schedule meant that the media coverage of Francesca and I was cooling off.  On top of that, Francesca had spent one week of our time apart along the border of Nepal and India, where the human trafficking of young girls ran rampant.  She was the host of a documentary funded by Cinema for Peace, an organization that aims to make films that promote peace, especially the perception and resolution of global social, political, and humanitarian challenges.  She did not get much paparazzi attention out there, either. 

When I thought back to how challenging these past few weeks had been for me due to my hectic schedule, I knew it was probably nothing compared to the emotional hardships she'd experienced during the same period.   

I texted her when I was in the parking lot of her secluded condominium complex, my car idling illegally in the firelane so I was close to the door. 

While I waited, I leaned my head back on the head rest and decided to rest my eyes until she came down.  Too soon, just as I was finally finding myself somewhere between awake and asleep, my passenger door opened, and Francesca slid in. 

I enjoyed the view of as she got settled in, my eyes trailing along the lace at the top of her black slip dress.  Once she'd clipped her seatbelt into place, I pulled out of the lot. 

"You look tired," she told me.

"I am," I said, my voice coming out husky due to lack of use and overall fatigue.  Clearing my throat, I continued,  "I think we've both had long weeks."

She nodded, taking this time to relax as well, leaning back in the seat and adjusting the vents so they were pointed at her.  As she moved, I could smell her perfume wafting over from the passenger side.  It was doing very little to settle me. 

Parking in Downtown LA on a Friday night was an absolute nightmare.  I was glad that I'd brought one of my smaller cars so that parallel parking was not so difficult.  Nevertheless, even with the compact car, we were still a few blocks away from the restaurant. 

When I finally parked the car, Francesca opened her eyes. 

"Ready?" I asked her. 

The corners of her mouth elevated as she put on her sunglasses.  "Let's go."

As soon as we were on the street, she perked up.  I walked over to meet her on the sidewalk, and she wrapped her pinky finger around mine.  We paused at the first intersection, watching as large groups of cars passed. 

I brought my hand to my mouth to cover my yawn.

"Excuse me," I said.

"You sure you're up for this?" she asked me.

"I'll be fine.  I'm just not as young as I used to be."

She faced me on the sidewalk as other pedestrians began to also stop at the corner near us. 

"How old are you anyway?"

"Nearly thirty.  My birthday is in February."       

"Nearly thirty?" she exclaimed, chuckling.  "I didn't know I was dating a grandpa."