Page 38 of Flipping the Script
When they break apart, both breathless and smiling, Solen touches Quinn's cheek gently.
"So this is what authentic feels like," she murmurs.
"Terrifying and wonderful and completely worth it," Quinn agrees.
They return to the party long enough to thank their supporters and make polite farewells, but both feel pulled toward something more private and genuine than publiccelebration. As they walk hand-in-hand down the hotel's marble steps into the city night, Quinn's award tucked under one arm while Solen's other hand plays with her compass necklace, they both finally know their true direction.
17
THE REAL THING
The weight of the Golden Horizon Award felt substantial in Quinn's hands as she stepped up to the microphone, the theater's sudden silence pressing against her ears like cotton. Thousands of entertainment industry professionals stretched before her in the grand art deco space, their faces expectant in the warm glow of the chandeliers. Her acceptance speech sat folded in her blazer pocket—three paragraphs of carefully crafted gratitude that suddenly felt completely wrong.
"When I wrote this story," she began, abandoning her prepared remarks entirely, "I thought I understood what collaboration meant. I thought it meant compromising my vision to accommodate someone else's interpretation." Her voice carried clearly through the theater's excellent acoustics. "I was spectacularly wrong."
From her seat in the third row, Solen's warm brown eyes met hers, and Quinn felt something settle in her chest. The compass necklace caught the stage lights as Solen leaned forward slightly, her expressive hands clasped in her lap.
"This story taught me that real collaboration isn't about losing control—it's about finding truth through another person'svision." Quinn lifted the award slightly, its golden surface reflecting the spotlights. "My writing partner showed me that improvisation isn't the enemy of structure. It's structure responding to life." She paused, watching Solen's eyes fill with tears. "Thank you for teaching me that the best stories happen when we trust each other enough to go off-script."
The applause thundered through the theater as Quinn made her way back to her seat, Marcus Eduardo Thorne squeezing her shoulder as she passed. Solen stood to embrace her, and for a moment the cameras and crowd disappeared entirely.
"You beautiful, brilliant woman," Solen whispered against her ear. "You just credited me as your writing partner on live television."
Quinn settled into her seat, the award heavy in her lap. "Because you are."
The ceremony continued around them, but Quinn found herself watching Solen's profile more than the stage. The way she genuinely celebrated other winners, how her whole face transformed when she laughed at the host's jokes, the unconscious grace with which she moved even while sitting still. When had she memorised these details so completely?
After the final award presentation, the backstage area buzzed with controlled chaos. Quinn tucked her award under her arm as industry executives approached them with the kind of enthusiasm that meant genuine interest rather than polite networking.
"Quinn, Solen—brilliant work tonight." A woman in an elegant navy suit extended her hand. "I'm Sarah Kim from Meridian Studios. We'd love to discuss your next collaboration."
"Your partnership dynamic is exactly what we need for our new romantic drama series," added a man Quinn recognised from Paramount. "The authenticity you bring to emotional storytelling is remarkable."
Marcus appeared beside them, his salt-and-pepper beard barely concealing his grin. "Ladies, I've had three separate studios ask about packaging deals for your team. Apparently, your creative chemistry translates beautifully on screen."
Solen's hand found Quinn's elbow, a steadying touch amid the swirl of attention. "It's wonderful to know our work resonates with audiences," she said smoothly, her actress training evident in how she handled the crowd without committing to anything specific.
Quinn appreciated the deflection more than she could express in the moment. The offers felt surreal—months ago, both their careers had been circling the drain. Now industry heavyweights wanted to bet on their partnership based on one successful project and whatever indefinable quality they projected as a creative team.
"We'll definitely be in touch," Quinn managed, accepting another business card while mentally cataloguing the conversation for later analysis.
The after-party at The Meridian Hotel Penthouse felt like a different universe from the theater's formal grandeur. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city's glittering skyline while carefully curated jazz music provided an elegant backdrop for networking conversations. Quinn accepted congratulations from colleagues she hadn't spoken to in months, their enthusiasm genuine rather than the polite distance she'd grown accustomed to after her previous failures.
"There's our award-winning screenwriter!" Diego Santos Rivera approached with Carmen Luna Rodriguez beside him, both raising champagne flutes in greeting. "Hell of a speech, Quinn. Very off-brand for you to abandon your prepared remarks."
Carmen smiled, adjusting the camera strap across her shoulder. "I got some beautiful shots of Solen's reaction. Her face when you called her your writing partner—pure joy."
"Where is she now?" Quinn glanced around the crowded penthouse, suddenly aware that Solen had disappeared during her conversation with a group of streaming executives.
"Terrace," Diego nodded toward the glass doors leading outside. "Looked like she needed some air. These industry crowds can be overwhelming, even for actors."
Quinn excused herself and made her way through the party, her award tucked securely under her arm. The evening had exceeded every professional fantasy she'd harboured about recognition and success, but something felt incomplete. All the congratulations and offers meant nothing if she couldn't share them properly with the person who'd made them possible.
Iris Delacroix intercepted her near the terrace doors, resplendent in a deep emerald dress that complemented her silver-streaked hair. "Magnificent speech tonight, darling. Very authentic."
"Thank you." Quinn paused, studying her publicist's expression. "You're pleased with how everything turned out."
"Professionally? Beyond my wildest projections." Iris's smile carried genuine warmth. "Personally? I'm proud of you both for finding something real in this artificial circus we call Hollywood."
