Page 42 of The Moon & His Tides
What did they know ofme?
I’d been quiet too long. Andrea’s face fell slightly, and he shared a look with Adam that started to clear the space before the former even said, “Leave us. Take an extra ten and come back with more energy than you gave me before.”
Obediently, almost everyone who’d lingered on set for their break dispersed to the outer edges or elsewhere entirely. Those who remained made themselves busy enough to maintain an aura of privacy.
“What’s wrong, Sebastian?” Adam asked, gently pushing Andrea out of the way with a bump of his shoulder so he could bend down to look in my eyes and grasp my shoulder. The feel of his hand on me was grounding.
I realized my grip on the wood chair handles was white-knuckled and slowly unpeeled my fingers. Andrea noticed and cocked a brow at the behaviour.
“It’s not that I’m ungrateful for your enthusiasm…” I spoke slowly, enunciating so carefully I almost eradicated the last traces of my Italian accent. “But this script isn’t just an idea I had one night that I thought could make good cinema. I wrote a part of my own soul, of my own history into that script. The ink might as well have been blood let from my own veins. As much as I love the idea of the great Andrea Felice and Adam Meyers spearheading this project, it just isn’t possible for me to hand it over for a fee and wash my hands of Roberto D’Amato and his story.”
I sucked in a deep breath through my teeth and looked up into Adam’s face and then Andrea’s behind him. “I’m sorry to disappoint you when I’m frankly shocked and overjoyed to have two men I’ve admired most of my life take an interest in my words, but I can’t compromise on this project. It would be like compromising a part of my soul.”
In the wake of my impassioned speech, both of them stared at me through a long silence. I fought the urge to squirm under the scrutiny and instead tipped my chin higher the way my sister Elena was apt to do in the face of adversity.
I could find another way to make my dreams come true, I assured myself as panic soured my stomach and made me want to puke.
“Well, he’s got the dramatics of an actor, doesn’t he?” Andrea said blandly, planting his hands on his hips and shifting his weight onto one foot.
Adam sighed. “You should know the combination of Italian genes and acting chops makes for an intense marriage.”
I blinked at them. “Are you…teasingme?”
Adam’s stern face broke into that wide grin I was becoming addicted to. “Why yes, Sebastian, I believe we are.”
Andrea laughed and stepped closer to clap a hand on my shoulder and give me a bit of a shake. “We had to see the passion, uh? If you have the fire in the pit of your belly to see this thing through all the obstacles and chaos of filmmaking from beginning to end. You gave birth to this story,si,and it is a beautiful one, of course. But before I made my offer, I wanted to see if you have theforzato bring Roberto to life.”
“I have it,” I told him, somewhat redundantly, but excitement flourished in my once rancid gut, and a kind of giddiness I’d rarely felt in my life was taking hold. It was the sensation, I thought, of being on the precipice of your dreams coming true. “You’re serious? You want to work onBlood Oathwith me?”
Even though I’m a no one, I thought but didn’t say.
Andrea grinned, the same slightly maniacal grin echoed on Adam’s face. “Certamente.”
When I looked at Adam, he opened his palms in faux innocence. “I’d like a producer credit, if you don’t mind, but otherwise, this is your baby, Sebastian. I only wanted to give you the tools to see it through. Though, if I may, I think it’s obvious the only right person to play Roberto D’Amato isyou.”
The small seed of self-confidence I’d always kept zealously protected in the heart of my chest took root and burrowed deep into my gut.
“He’s a complicated character,” I said, but it was almost a question.
Adam shrugged, but there were stars in his eyes meant only for me. “Who better to play him, then, than a complicated man?”
I nodded slightly as I digested the turn of events and then let the giddiness in my belly show on my face. “Well then, Andrea, I think this calls for a celebratory drink in the two minutes youhave left of the restroom break. You don’t have any grappa on hand, do you?”
Andrea scoffed. “I’m an Italian.” He pulled a flask out of the side pocket of his chair, prompting Adam and me to laugh at his efficacy.
“Salute!” Andrea toasted me and then took a swig before handing it to me.
I mimicked him but locked eyes with Adam as I took the burning liquid down my throat. Something hooked through my ribs and vibrated at the line stretched taut to its anchor beneath Adam’s own breastbone. The space between us throbbed with its beat, like the heart in my chest and the cock between my thighs that twitched at the sight of Adam’s own darkened gaze. When I handed the flask off to him, his fingers rubbed over my own, and he maintained our intense stare as he took a long, hard pull of the grappa.
“To you,” he murmured instead of the Italiancheers. “To your future.”
And at that moment, I might have fallen just a little bit in love with Adam Meyers.
12
ADAM
It was a good day.
