STS Ch-59

“That’s a great fucking idea!” Bob exclaimed as we walked side by side through the crowded airport terminal. “It hadn’t even occurred to me that Marty’s mother might see him as a prospective lover. That’ll be a good comedic beat to add to the story.”

I nodded, adjusting the strap of my carry-on. “Just make sure you don’t take it too far into weird territory. She’s still his mother.”

“Of course,” he agreed quickly. “I was just thinking that I could…”

He was cut off mid-sentence by a scream so sharp and high-pitched that it didn’t sound real at first.

Both of us turned at the same time, scanning the terminal to see if someone was hurt, or worse. Instead, we found ourselves staring at a girl who was staring right at me, her hands clutched to her cheeks as if she’d just seen a ghost.

“Oh my God! It’s Noah Hunter from [The Blue Lagoon]!”

Before I could process what was happening, she rushed toward me.

I froze. I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t have time to react before she latched onto me like a koala clinging to a tree. Her arms wrapped tightly around my torso. Within seconds, the space around me vanished. People closed in from all sides. Mostly girls, but I caught sight of a few guys pushing through the crowd as well, craning their necks for a better look.

Seeing one girl hug me seemed to give the others permission. Suddenly, more hands grabbed at my shoulders, my arms, my back. At least four pairs of arms were wrapped around me, maybe more.

“Girls! Can you please let me go?” I half-asked, half-begged. “I’ll talk to all of you. Just don’t crowd me like this.”

My words disappeared into the noise.

Then I felt it. A hand sliding somewhere it definitely shouldn’t be. Someone was taking advantage of the chaos, groping me in a place I didn’t want anyone touching. Not here. Not in the middle of a public airport with dozens of people around.

Never in a thousand years did I expect to face this at JFK airport today.

Thankfully, before things could spiral any further, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the frenzy.

“What the hell is going on here!?”

A female security officer pushed through the crowd with impressive force, parting the mass of bodies like it was nothing. “This is an airport, for God’s sake! You’re all blocking the way.”

“But this is Noah Hunter! He was in that movie, [The Blue Lagoon]!” one of the girls protested breathlessly.

“I fail to see how that makes him any less of a human being who deserves basic decency,” the officer shot back. “You’re crowding him like animals. What if someone did this to you? Would you like it?”

Her voice rose to a near shout, and that finally did the trick. The grip around me loosened. The circle widened by a few precious inches.

I didn’t waste the chance. I slipped out from the middle of the group, straightening my shirt as I hurried toward the officer.

“You, sir!” she said, pointing at me with a stern expression. “You need to come with me. We’ve received information that you could be carrying some contraband.”

I blinked at her, momentarily stunned. Me? Contraband? What the fuck was she talking about…

Oh.

Understanding dawned.

I nodded quickly and followed her away from the crowd, clutching my luggage tightly against my side. I spared a glance over my shoulder. Bob stood a short distance away, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes before lifting a hand in a small wave.

We’d already exchanged numbers and made vague plans to meet again sometime, so I didn’t wait for him. The last thing I needed was to get mobbed a second time.

“Thank you,” I whispered once we were clear of the chaos. “For a moment, I thought I was gonna die.”

She smiled but didn’t slow her brisk stride. “Don’t worry about it. And seriously, think about being a little more discreet. A low hat, sunglasses. Little things go a long way at airports. The way you were walking back there, all confident and out in the open, even I recognized you. And I don’t even watch movies much.”

That was when it truly sank in.

I’d become far more famous than I’d allowed myself to believe. And all from just one film, [The Blue Lagoon]. The idea felt surreal, almost absurd. Yet the evidence had just wrapped its arms around me and nearly assaulted me. It was hard to swallow, but I couldn’t deny it anymore.

“By the way,” she added, her tone turning slightly shy as we slowed near a restricted corridor. “I don’t mean to inconvenience you, but could I get a photo with you? Please?”

I gave her a flat look. “If you’d asked me for my blood for a dark ritual after saving my ass back there, I would’ve gladly given it. A photo is nothing.”

She burst out laughing.

She led me into a small staff-only room tucked behind a gray metal door. A metal desk sat in one corner, and a corkboard cluttered with notices hung crookedly on the wall. From a drawer, she pulled out a Polaroid camera, which she handed to one of her colleagues.

We posed together, her grin wide and proud, my smile still a little dazed from everything that had just happened. The camera whirred, and soon the photograph slid out. She waved it gently in the air, waiting for the image to develop.

I was ready to leave, but it wasn’t meant to be.

Within minutes, a couple of baggage handlers peeked in. Then two more security staff. Soon, I was leaning against the desk, signing scraps of paper, boarding passes, and even someone’s notepad. A few more Polaroids were taken. Everyone was polite, giving me space, thanking me properly.

Still a thousand times better than being groped by a mob.

(Break)

“You’ve become a true movie star, Noah,” Peter grumbled, taking another long swig from his beer bottle. The living room of my house was dimly lit, thick with the smell of fried food and alcohol. “You promised you’d give us work on your films, but you didn’t. As soon as you found fame, you forgot us.”

Ash, sitting right beside him on the couch, shoved him in the chest. “Ignore him, Noah. He’s just drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!” Peter shot back, though his words slurred at the edges. “Am I lying, Noah?”

I sighed and took a slow sip of my beer, letting the cold bitterness settle my nerves. “I’m really sorry, man. I wanted to involve you. I really did. But my film professor put his foot down. He said I had to pick all the important crew roles from the students there. I didn’t have a choice.”

Peter stared at the table.

“Even if I’d called you up there, you wouldn’t have had an official position,” I continued. “So it didn’t make sense to drag you all the way to Harvard just to have you standing around. And I don’t want to sound like a miser, but even if I didn’t pay you anything, the travel, the stay, the food. That all adds up. I was working with a tight budget. The Harvard students were willing to work for almost nothing, and they were bearing their own costs.”

Peter muttered something incoherent and then dropped his head onto the table with a dull thud. His bottle tilted dangerously in his loose grip.

Ash gave me an apologetic look but chose not to say anything else.

I watched my old friend slump there, cheeks flushed and pride clearly bruised.

“So,” Lenny said, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from Peter’s sulking, “I just wanted to tell you guys that I’m dating Lola.”

The words hung in the air for a second.

I tilted my head, studying him. “Oh? Congratulations, I guess.”

He lifted his beer bottle in a small toast. “Thanks. Honestly, I was a little worried you wouldn’t like that, given the history between you two.”

I shrugged and leaned back against the leather of the couch. “That’s exactly what it is. History. I don’t want to be tied down to one girl for the rest of my life. At least not right now. And Lola’s a great girl. A good friend. I’m happy she found someone like you.”

His shoulders relaxed almost instantly, and his smile widened into something genuine.

I glanced over at Peter, only to find him snoring softly, his cheek pressed against the cool glass table. A thin line of drool threatened to form near his mouth. I sighed and looked at Ash instead.

“Are you two really okay?”

Ash shook his head, his expression turning serious. “Peter’s not. He hates the waiting job. I don’t like it either, but he’s so vocal about it that everyone at the restaurant knows how badly he wants out. The manager’s already sick of hearing him complain.”

I grimaced.

“Well,” I said after a moment, “you two are definitely coming with me to the set of [Risky Business], and every movie after that. How does that sound?”

Ash stared at me for a second, as if making sure I wasn’t joking. Then he reached out and patted my shoulder firmly. “Thanks, man. Seriously.”

“No offer for me?” Lenny asked, feigning offense as he pointed at himself.

“You really want to?” I asked. “I thought you were busy with college.”

“There’s this little thing called summer break,” he shot back with a grin. “I wouldn’t mind adding this to my resume. If I do major in business like I’m planning, it could help. And who knows? Maybe I’ll end up in the entertainment sector.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll recommend you to the producers. But my contract says I can only officially bring two people as assistants. That’s Ash and Peter. I don’t know if production will pay you anything.”

“I’m fine with that,” he said, waving off the concern. “Half my classmates are doing unpaid internships anyway. At least I’ll be working with my friends.”

I smiled and raised my bottle. “Alright then. Welcome to the team.”

He clinked his bottle against mine, and we both took a long swig.

The night dragged on, laughter growing louder and words slurring more with each round. Eventually, I was the only one still upright.

Peter was sprawled on the table, Ash slumped back with his mouth slightly open, and Lenny leaned sideways, hanging off the edge of the sofa, breathing evenly. Three grown men, completely knocked out.

I stared at my half-empty bottle. No warmth in my head. No pleasant haze. No loss of control. And I couldn’t help feeling a small, unexpected pang of sadness.

I wasn’t an addict in my first life. I’d never relied on alcohol. But it had been nice to have the option. To let go once in a while. To blur the edges of the world when it all felt too sharp. Now, even that simple escape was out of reach for me.

(Break)

I sat opposite Al Pacino as he went through the detailed outline of the script I’d prepared for him. The silence in the room felt suffocating, thick enough to choke on, but I didn’t dare interrupt. I’d initially offered to narrate the story myself, thinking it might help sell the emotional beats, but he’d preferred to read it alone. So I let him take his time.

The script wasn’t finished yet. It would take me months to write it properly. And I wasn’t going to commit to that unless Al said yes. There was no point wasting weeks of sleepless nights on something if he didn’t even believe in the core idea.

He turned another page. Then another.

The only sounds in the room were the faint rustle of paper and the distant hum of traffic outside the window.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he removed his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. My stomach tightened.

When he looked up at me, his eyes were wet.

“I’ll do it,” he said firmly. “Fuck, if you give this script to someone else, I’ll kill you. I’m not even joking.”

Relief hit me so hard I almost laughed from sheer nerves. I leaned back into the couch. “Thank God you liked it. I was convinced you’d call me out for reaching too far into the emotional side of things.”

He shook his head slowly. “That father-son scene we shot for your time-travel movie showed me exactly how emotionally mature you are. As a writer and as a director. If you could pull that off, you can handle this. So yes. You’ve got my blessing. Develop it into a full screenplay.”

He leaned forward slightly, his tone turning practical. “I’ll smooth things over with the studios. I’ll make sure you get full creative freedom. No one’s going to butcher this.”

A wave of relief washed over me. I hadn’t dealt with hostile executives yet, but I’d heard enough horror stories to know how ugly it could get for new filmmakers.

“Thanks, Al,” I said, unable to hide the gratitude in my voice. “I’ll make a great film out of this.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he replied. “There’s a reason I asked you to cast me in your next movie after just hearing about your first one. But after reading this?” He lifted the pages in his hand. “I know I was right about you. You’re a great writer. Keep this up, and one day you’ll be a great director too.”

His words filled me with a quiet, swelling pride.

By the time I returned home, my mind was already racing with ideas. I’d have to develop the script properly while simultaneously shooting [Risky Business]. It wouldn’t be easy.

I guess it was time to start dipping into the ocean again. If I could squeeze more out of my nights, maybe I could make full use of my days.

(Break)

I leaned in and kissed the girl in front of me with as much passion as I could muster. At least, I did my part. Her lips barely moved in response.

After a few seconds, I pulled back and turned toward the panel watching us in silence.

“That was great, Rebecca!” Paul called out enthusiastically.

The girl who had just been kissing me, Rebecca De Mornay, smiled brightly at him. “Thank you!”

I blinked.

Great?

I glanced at her again, trying to figure out whether I’d imagined the complete lack of reciprocation or whether this was some kind of acting technique I didn’t understand.

“You can go now,” Paul said. “We’ll be in touch.”

With one last nod to the panel and a playful wink in my direction, Rebecca De Mornay stepped out of the audition room. The silence lasted exactly half a second.

“No,” Paul and I said in unison.

We exchanged a brief look before he leaned back in his chair.

“You two just don’t have the chemistry for this role,” he explained. “And you’re towering over her. If we’re going to sell you as a teenager, we need a taller actress next to you.”

“I am a teenager,” I said flatly.

Paul nodded patiently. “I know. But with your height, it’ll be hard for the audience to see you as one.”

I rolled my eyes. “It won’t be. The audience is more mature than you give them credit for.”

Before our argument could spiral any further, the door opened again.

The next candidate walked in, and the moment I saw her, I had a feeling.

At least physically, she was perfect.

She was naturally blonde, tall, and poised. Even in heels, she stood just an inch shorter than me. That alone solved one of Paul’s complaints. But it was her face that truly stood out. Blue-green eyes, full lips, sharp cheekbones, and a figure that would instantly command attention on screen.

More importantly, I recognized her.

She’d shared the screen with Tom Hanks in [Splash].

“Hi,” she said softly, keeping her gaze lowered. “I’m Daryl Hannah. Twenty.”

I stepped forward and offered my hand. “Noah Hunter. I’ll be your scene partner today.”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing her hand in mine. Her grip was light, almost cautious.

“Alright, Noah, Daryl,” Paul said, clapping loudly to command our attention. “Let’s do the scene.”

Daryl visibly flinched at the sharp sound.

“Relax,” I murmured quietly so only she could hear. “It’s okay. You’ll do fine. I trust you.”

I didn’t know why I felt compelled to reassure her, but I did. Something about her made me want her to get this part. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was ambition. Maybe it was both.

She gave me a small smile, still not quite meeting my eyes, and then turned toward Paul.

“I’m ready.”

Paul frowned slightly. I knew exactly what he was thinking. For Mia, we needed confidence. A woman who was fearless, seductive, and emotionally detached. Not someone who looked like she might bolt out the door at any second.

“Alright,” Paul said. “Begin.”

And just like that, she transformed.

The shy girl disappeared.

Daryl lifted her gaze and locked eyes with me. The hesitation was gone. In its place was poise. Seduction. Intelligence. A subtle, dangerous confidence that fit Mia perfectly. Her movements were deliberate, controlled. When she circled closer, there was purpose in every step.

Then she leaned in to kiss me.

This time, there was no lack of reciprocation. There was tension. Heat. Intention.

For a brief second, the room vanished. It didn’t feel like an audition anymore.

When Paul finally called cut, the spell broke.

Daryl stepped back, and just as quickly as it had appeared, Mia disappeared. She lowered her gaze again, her shoulders drawing inward slightly. It was like watching a switch flip.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, and left the room without another word.

I stared at the closed door, a little stunned.

“She’s perfect,” I said immediately.

Paul didn’t respond right away. His expression was thoughtful, but not convinced. And that’s when I realized he didn’t see what I’d just seen.