Real People Fiction

I never expected to meet someone like him. I had encountered a few celebrities in my role as fundraiser for House Sugar, our non-profit organization. But he was different, more famous than the others, a real rising star. He stood around at our fundraiser with his small entourage waiting nearby. He was clearly uncomfortable, not talking to many people, a drink in his hand.

We locked eyes for a moment, but he looked away. I kind of wanted to say something to him, but his demeanor was forbidding and unwelcoming. Best to stay away from those types. I didn't even know why he attended our event or who he was with.

I lost track of him in the crowd. Many New York-based celebrities floated around the room, attracted to the politically correct idea of our non-profit—we granted seed money to women artists, writers, filmmakers, playwrights, etc. We were popular during this "Me, Too" era. That was fine by TJ, Jess, and me. We believed in what we were doing.

Of course, my participation in House Sugar was a bit different than funding women artists—but, tonight, we were focused on raising money for our grants. I didn't push my own agenda on this crowd.

After making the rounds and shaking innumerable hands, I stepped out on the balcony, even though it was a bit chilly in NYC that evening. It was too warm inside with all the people walking around, breathing, and chatting.

The man I lost track of was there, the most famous New York resident to grace one of our benefits. He turned, surprised by me opening the door and stepping outside. No one else was there.

"Excuse me." I moved back, not wanting to intrude.

"No, it's fine," he murmured and looked at his phone. It was tiny in his huge hand. He put in his pocket and surveyed my face for a moment. "Are you one the co-founders of House Sugar?"

"Yes," I said. "Joey _____." I reached out my hand and he took it in his large paw. His hand swallowed mine. I smiled at him. He frowned instead, drawing his dark brows together.

"Adam," he said. He understood that I knew who he was.

"Thank you for coming out tonight," I said, politely.

He nodded at me once, his expression still grave. "It's all due to Greta, uh, Gerwig. She wanted Noah, you know, Baumbach, to be here to show support and..." He rolled his eyes slightly. His face lost its frozen look for a moment.

"And Noah pressed you into service." I nodded in sympathy. "Well, your sacrifice is much appreciated."

He looked a little stricken. "That sounded rude. I don't mean that I didn't want to... Well, I didn't. But the cause... you know. It's about women artists and I'm trying... but..." He stopped and pressed his lips together. He touched them with two fingers.

I watched in amazement. "Well, you just did a whole little thing all by yourself."

He laughed and shook his head. A lock of hair fell onto his forehead and he raked it back with one hand. "I... yeah... I did. I'm trying to say that it's a good cause."

"Even if you didn't want to show up."

He opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. "Shit. No, no. It's... Well, yeah, that is kind of the truth."

"No problem," I said, laughing.

"What's your role?" He gazed into my face, his whole attention suddenly focused on me.

"Oh, you can stop pretending now. It's okay if you're not interested."

"No, I am. I founded a non-profit. I'm not as directly involved anymore because I'm too busy, but I remember what it was like to have these events and try to fundraise. I fully appreciate the work it takes to pull this off."