The man guarding the barricades waved at her companion when they approached and said, "Hey, Tom."
Tom!
Then barricade man noticed Julia and asked, "Is she cool?"
Great! I'm at the crossroads of my life, and safe passage depends on being classified as "cool"?
Tom nodded and said, "You don't recognize her?" Then he added, "She's cool."
I am? Julia wondered, but before she knew it, they were inside.
"This is a big set—lots of stars—so security is key," Tom explained as they walked down the closed portion of the street, past trailers and vans and miles and miles of cables. Julia looked around and realized what a far cry that life was from her little farm. She saw millions of dollars' worth of equipment and dozens of hurrying people, and she wondered how long a man like Lance Collins could possibly stay satisfied living in a broken-down house in Oklahoma. She looked at Tom and asked, "He's doing well, then?"
"Are you kidding? Look at this place." I le gestured around him to the dozens of trailers that filled the streets, the crews, the barricades blocking hordes of fans. "He got them to fly me in from California. And when he wraps here, he's going to New Zealand to start the new Peter Jackson. He's on top of the world," Tom said with only the slightest glint of jealousy in his eyes.
Never before had good news made Julia feel so terrible.
"So, what brings you by?" Tom asked.
"Oh, I'm in town for meetings with my editor," she lied. "Then I'm catching a plane to London. I'll be on tour in Europe for a few weeks." She was shamelessly scanning the street, looking for Lance.
"Hey," Tom said. "He's in with Tiffany, but I can get him."
"Tiffany?" she questioned.
"Female lead. Nice girl."
"Oh," Julia said, and tried with every ounce of resolve in her body not to crumble into dust and blow away. "Are they ..."
Tom looked at her, then he nodded and said, "Yeah, I think so."
"Oh." That's terrible. "That's great." "Why don't you let me go get him?"
"Oh, no," she said, waving off the suggestion. "I've got to catch a plane."
"You sure?" Tom asked, unconvinced.
Julia smiled and said, "Yeah."
"You wanna leave a message?" he asked.
She thought about what she'd say. But of the thousands of words she'd written in her lifetime, she couldn't imagine stringing a half dozen together to say what she wanted him to hear. She could just say "Hi" like an old friend stopping in out of the blue and disappearing just as quickly. She could take a chance, say the words that had brought her running through traffic and airport security. Or she could say good-bye.
"Actually ..." She began digging in her bag. "I just need to give him something."
"Can do." Tom nodded and crossed his arms, waiting for his assignment.
She dug into her purse and removed her deck of cards. "Can you give him these, please?"
Tom looked at the ragged deck and seemed to wonder what kind of freak would return something you can buy brand-new for a buck twenty-eight at any corner store. "Any message?" he asked.
Julia shrugged, fighting tears. "Just tell him he broke me of the habit."
"Okay," Tom said, taking the cards without trying to disguise his confusion.
She walked away quickly, certain any more words would betray her. She focused on planting one foot in front of the other as she walked down the Manhattan sidewalk, surrounded by lights and cameras and action, as somewhere in her mind, the soundtrack of her life began to play, and the credits rolled on her romance.
She dodged the busy crews with their bright lights and long cables. They worked all around her, setting the scene, getting ready to make a perfect movie ending.