Page 142 of The Sun & Her Burn
In a multiple offer situation, the screenplay would go to auction.
It was a profoundlygoodthing for a screenwriter, but not so good for me as a person, given that Richardson Productions had deep pockets and the Richardsons themselves were deeply motivated. They did not like to lose, especially when they felt they had a right to win.
“There is no price too high for a chance at a Sebastian Lombardi original,” Tate declared, moving his hand from my shoulder to my neck for a squeeze. “You can count on Richardson Productions winning that bid.”
Happily, I was saved from continuing the conversation by the music heralding everyone back to their seats for the final round of awards for the night.
I sat at my table of peers and co-stars, feeling oddly bereft and alone as I waited for the nominees for Best Actor in a Drama to be called. My gaze floated over the many gorgeous faces to land on the only two I really cared about in the room.
Linnea was looking at me, her eyes widening when they caught mine. She lifted her phone and wiggled it a little in my direction.
I pulled my cell from my pocket and found waiting notifications.
A new group chat had been created and named with only three emoji: a sun, a moon, and some stars.
Linnea: I’ve always wanted to fuck a Critics Choice Award winner.
Adam: You have fucked a Critics Choice Award winner.
Adam: Two of them.
Linnea: It’s different when it’s a fresh win. Sebastian can hold his award while we suck him off, and if he doesn’t drop it, he can come.
Adam: Well, if that isn’t incentive to win, I’m not sure what is.
Adam: Break a leg, Sebastian.
Linnea: We’re rooting for you!
I swallowed thickly as I rubbed my thumb over the screen. Such silly texts, really, to mean so much to me. I could barely breathe past the feeling of happiness filling my chest like helium.
So when they called my name as the winner some minutes later, I was already beaming ear to ear when I stood, kissed Winona on the cheek, and climbed the stairs to the stage.
I always prepared a speech because it was bad luck not to, but most of them were fairly standard. Thank the organization, thank the studio, and the cast and crew of the movie, especially the director and my co-stars. Then, move on to my beloved Mama and sisters.
Only this time, I ended with something significantly more enigmatic than I ever had before.
“And finally, to the people who remind me to never stop dreaming, even when those dreams seem impossible. I have always had a relentless and dangerous optimism in my heart that has encouraged me to pursue wild opportunities and unlikely outcomes. Yet here I stand today holding an award for a career everyone told me would never be mine. I’m happy to continue to prove my naysayers wrong and to keep dreaming of impossible universes.”
As the crowd erupted into applause, it was Adam and Linnea whom I sought out in the darkness. Adam lifted his glass to me, waiting for me to find his gaze. Linnea did a fist pump that made my wide smile deepen so it cut almost painfully into my cheeks.
That night, they proved they sucked me off until I dropped the award to the floor, but because I was a winner, they still decided to let me come.
We were busy, the three of us, so we spent most of those days apart from each other. Linnea no longer worked at the restaurant, but she spent a lot of time in the guesthousewith Miranda or working on designs. She had landed a guest appearance on a popular sitcom that filmed in LA over the course of three days at the end of the week, and she laughed when I insisted on taking her to the production lot the first day to show her around.
I had podcast interviews, live interviews, a spot on a late-night show, and a shoot for St. Aubyn cologne at El Matador State Beach, while Adam continued to prepare for his role as Anton Daventry, which was set to start filming in mid-March.
Even though we didn’t spend the days together, we found each other at night.
I liked to cook, so I often helped Bruce whip up something for dinner or teach him some of Mama’s recipes. Linnea would wander in next, usually in low-slung sweatpants and a teeny top that left acres of skin exposed beneath the bottom of her breasts and the base of her smooth stomach. We would chat until Adam ambled in, usually wrapping up a phone call or email on his cell.
Aside from acting, he also owned a stake in a popular winery in Sonoma and various other lucrative business holdings. Though he didn’t speak to his father and step-mum, I knew his vast fortune was what kept them in comfort in their manor home in Cornwall.
Only when we were settled around the dining table outside on the terrace did we pick up the script forThe Dream & The Dreamerto review the plot and conduct informal table readings. They helped make the story come alive in a way I couldn’t have fully imagined when I first wrote it during those fevered few days. It became even clearer that Adam and Linnea had become my muses, and there was something almost scary about that, scarier than being their lovers.
A man and his muse were scared, but often fraught with complications.
As evidenced by the very plot ofThe Dream & The Dreamer.
