Oh.Austin’s been keeping something from me.
A series of beeps suddenly cuts over the background music, and Austin downs the rest of his soft drink.
‘Looks like it’s showtime,’ Evie says, her eyes flickering to mine. ‘Do you know where you’re sitting?’
‘Somewhere in the nosebleed section, I’m sure,’ I reply, although I’m kidding—I haven’t checked my ticket yet.
‘We’re down the front, Eves, so we better get in there ahead of everyone else,’ Austin says to her. ‘I don’t want to get stopped by every Tom, Dick and Barry on the way to our seats.’
I shake my head, but it’s hard not to smile.
‘You going to the after-party?’ Austin asks me.
I hesitate. Usually I loathe after-parties, but I haven’t yet had a chance to catch up with him—or, more importantly, with Evie. ‘Yeah, I’ll be there.’
‘Sweet. See you there, bro.’
I turn to set down my beer on the bar, and a soft hand grazes my forearm. I twist to find Evie blinking at me. ‘I’ll see you at the party, then,’ she says, sounding as if she’s worried I might change my mind.
Baby, I’d chase you into hell right now if that’s where you’re going.
‘You will.’
Her smile alone was worth the trip here, I decide as I watch her hook her arm around Austin’s and disappear into the swarm of moving bodies. Rafael then heads off to find his own seat and, after scooping up a complimentary bucket of popcorn, I make my way into the grand, 1920s-style theatre that in itself looks like a film set.
My ticket puts me in the second-back row, on the far-right side.Oh, I actually am in the nosebleed section. Thanks for the love, Village Pictures. I only launched the runaway publicity train that helped fill this theatre.
I shuffle down the row of red velvet seats, climbing over the glittery trains of gowns and polished dress shoes, only coming to a stop when I clap eyes on Finn—the pimply-faced runner from theMovingset. The last empty seat, which must be mine, sits beside his. He springs up to extend a scrawny hand out to me, spilling his paper cup of Coke all over himself in the process.
For crying out loud. I shake his sticky palm and offer him my only napkin. He swipes the square cloth all over his soaked chinos, then thrusts an elbow out as he starts on his inner thigh, sending my popcorn flying.
‘Oh, shiiiiit—sorry,’ he says, his face caught in a grimace.
I lean as far away from him as I can without leaving my seat. ‘Forget it.’
Just as we get settled, the stage lights flash on, and the film’s director, Olivia Floros, enters the stage to rousing applause. She makes a quick speech, thanking everyone who worked on the production—including Buzz, which is met with an awkward silence—and then scampers off the stage. The theatre goes dark.
Movingbegins with a banger of a song and a bright, energetic montage juxtaposing Jamie’s quiet farming life with Constance’s buzzing city dance studio. Constance’s hip-hop moves blend into the choreography of Jamie’s own life as he rounds up sheep, waters his crops and tinkers with a tractor. Throughout these opening titles, the music builds in intensity, promising a seriously epic soundtrack to come.
Ninety-seven minutes later, I’m standing on my feet and clapping with the rest of the jam-packed theatre, blinking at the screen in awe. How the fuck did Olivia Floros manage to make Jakob’s lines sound so natural? And to make the story so absorbing that I hardly moved in my seat?
Finn reaches over to offer me a fist-bump, his grin so goofy that I can’t help but stretch my arm around him for a moment. This kid needs some serious coordination lessons, but his youthful enthusiasm feels like a tonic to a jaded bastard like me.
The after-party is being held at a swanky restaurant over in the city’s harbourside precinct. I’m sure the main cast have transport arranged for them, so there’s no point attempting to locate Evie or Austin amongthe exodus of guests spilling out of the theatre. As the most junior person on set, though, Finn is chronically ignored. Taking pity on him, I invite him to share my Uber.
Once we reach the colonial-style building housing the restaurant, we squeeze into the lift with a huddle of chattering, overexcited partygoers. As Finn presses the button for the fifth floor he accidentally elbows a woman reapplying her lipstick, which smears all over her cheek. As harmless as this kid is, I’m worried he’s going to spill something on my three-piece suit, so when we reach the party, I snag a beer off a server’s tray and wish him a good night. He goes to salute me and knocks the side of his hand into his eye, making himself curse and squint.
I stifle a laugh and cast my eyes around the crowded room, searching for a familiar face. Forherface. But there’s no sign of Evie.
As I shrug off my jacket, though, my gaze bangs into Austin’s. He’s standing over near the balcony doors with Louis, the boom operator, who, judging from the look on Austin’s face, is in the middle of one of his interminable monologues.
Austin passes me a cautious smile, and I only hesitate for a second before strolling over to him. It still feels a little awkward being around the guy who was once my best friend, my colleague and my housemate, and that’s something I’d like to rectify.
‘… and I’d already been to LA a few times’ are the first words I hear from Louis’s mouth, although I’m certain they won’t be the last. ‘But it was the first time I’d seen rain there. There were puddles everywhere—I kept slipping. So, I went to the mall for a while, but then decided to hit Venice Beach because it’d be quiet. And this man was walking a Pekingese, which reminded me of my mother—’
Austin claps a hand on Louis’s shoulder, interrupting his story. ‘You know what, man? I just love that, no matter what the topic is, you find a way to bring it back to you. It’s actually an impressive skill. Someone could say to you, “Sorry I’m late; there was traffic,” and the next thing they know, you’re telling them all about the fuckin’ traffic that used to make you late for kindergarten when you were five. But hey, I’m amazed at how much you know and remember about yourself. You should be proud of that.’
A chuckle slips out of me, and I hide it with a cough into my fist. It’s not like Austin to be so blunt—I think he’s trying to steal my vibe.
