AN: ORE POWERSTONES. ????

  Words: 2.6k

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  The elevator ride to the top floor of Wilson Studios was silent, save for the quiet hum of cssical music pying over the speakers. Alex rolled his shoulders in an attempt to work out the tension.

  Bill Murray was out.

  Which meant his entire vision for Lost in Transtion was suddenly teetering on the edge of colpse.

  Not ideal.

  Not impossible, but definitely not ideal.

  The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the rge gss-walled hallway. At the end of the hall was the executive office of Wilson Studios. Rachel was already ianding by his desk with a tablet in hand.

  "You're te," she said without looking up.

  Alex exhaled, stepping inside and tossing his car keys onto the desk. "Had to process the fact that my lead actor just imploded his own career before noon."

  Rachel finally gnced up, her expression wry. "You want to talk about bad luck? I had to cel three interviews and reschedule aire PR campaign before my first coffee."

  Alex smirked, despite everything. "Tragic."

  Rachel didn't miss a beat. "Oh, deeply. Now, sit down. We o fix this before the studio execs start hyperventiting."

  Alex took his seat, running a hand through his hair. "Alright. Who do we have?"

  Rachel swiped through her tablet, bringing up a list of actors. "Okay, so obviously we need someoh range—someone who carry the emotional weight of this film without overpying it."

  Alex leaned forward, sing the names. "Give me viable options, Rachel. No risks, no ued talent. I need someone who guarantee results."

  Rachel's lips pursed as she scrolled. "Two names." She flicked them onto the rge s behihe faces of two legendary actors appearing in high definition.

  Tom Hanks.Richard Jenkins.

  Alex's eyes lingered on Tom's face first.

  A two-time Academy Award wihe man who had defined a geion of ema. The same man Alex had worked with on his very first film, Forrest Gump. Their colboration had been nothing short of legendary—Tom had walked away with an Oscar, and Alex? He had ted himself as a director worth watg.

  The other option—Richard Jenkins—was an equally pelling choice. A phenomenal character actor, subtle, nuanced, and deeply respected in the industry. He could definitely pull off the quiet mencholy the role required.

  Alex exhaled, tapping a finger against the desk. "Jenkins is good. Damn good."

  Rachel nodded. "He is. And he's avaible."

  Alex hummed, sidering. "But Hanks? He's more than good. He's iic."

  Rachel tilted her head. "You've worked with him before."

  Alex nodded, drumming his fingers against the armrest of his chair. "And I kly how he works. I know how to push him, how to pull the performance I need out of him. We already have a dynamic."

  Rachel crossed her arms. "Hanks is a big name, Alex. More press, more attention, bigger expectations."

  Alex smirked. "When have I ever been afraid of expectations?"

  Rachel huffed, shaking her head. "Fine. You going with Hanks, then?"

  Alex leaned back, his deade. "Call him."

  Rachel tapped a few buttons oablet. "I'll set up a meeting. You think he'll say yes?"

  Alex's smirk didn't falter. "He will."

  Rachel raised an eyebrow. "fidence?"

  Alex chuckled. "Experience."

  Rachel rolled her eyes but didn't argue. "Alright, I'll make the call. But if this backfires, I'm not c your ass."

  Alex grinned. "Wouldn't expeything less."

  Rachel sighed, shaking her head as she exited the office.

  Alex exhaled, staring at the city skylihrough the massive gss windows of his office.

  One problem down.

  A million more to go.

  ...

  Rachel worked fast.

  Within an hour, she had arranged a private meeting at The Peninsu Beverly Hills, one of the most discreet and luxurious hotels in Los Angeles. It ce where industry titans brokered billion-dolr deals over breakfast, where studio heads made decisions that shaped the future of Hollywood, and where the paparazzi never got past the lobby.

  Perfect.

  Alex arrived first.

  Tom Hanks arrived fifteen mier, wearing his signature easygoing smile, a leather jacket over a dark polo shirt.

  "Alex Wilson!" Tom greeted, g him on the back as they shook hands. "Damn, kid, you've been busy."

  Alex smirked. "So have you."

  Tom chuckled as they sat down in the private lounge, a waiter already approag with a tray of coffee and pastries. "Nah, not really. Been ying low these past few months. Took some time off after the st one... figured I'd actually enjoy life for a bit instead of pretending to be in front of a camera."

  Alex took a sip of his coffee, studying the man across from him. "Good timing, then. I was just about t you ba."

  Tom raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh yeah? What's the project?"

  Alex set his cup down. "It's called Lost in Transtion. I guess you have already heard about it?"

  "Yeah, saw your press fereom hummed in thought. "Who's direg?"

  Alex gave him a pointed look.

  Tom grinned. "Well, that makes things easy."

  Alex leaned back. "I need a lead. Someone who carry aire film with just their presence."

  Tom's expression turned serious, his fiapping against his coffee cup. "And you think that's me?"

  Alex smirked. "I know it is."

  Tom exhaled, sidering. Then he grinned. "Alright, I'm in."

  Alex blinked. "That fast?"

  Tom shrugged. "What I say? I trust you, Alex. Forrest Gump was one of the best experieny career. I don't o see the script to know this is gonna be worth it."

  Alex leaned forward, resting his elbows oable. "No sed thoughts? No 'let me sleep on it'?"

  Tom chuckled. "Kid, I've been in this industry long enough to know when something's right. And this? This is right."

  Alex grinned. "You won't regret it."

  Tom smirked. "I never do."

  They ked their coffee cups together in an unspoken agreement.

  Back at the office, Rachel sat in her office. Her eyes were oab, waiting for Alex's message. And just then...

  Beep! A text from Alex.

  [Tom Hanks is locked in. iations needed. Full itment. I'll leave the tract drafting to you as usual.]

  "Holy shit. Wilson did it again." Rachel nearly jumped up from her chair iement.

  Lost in Transtion was orack again.

  Rachel wasted no time. Within minutes of receiving Alex's text, she was on the phoh the legal team, drafting tracts, setting up press strategies, and notifying the studio executives that Tom Hanks was officially on board.

  They were expeg a problem.

  Instead, they got Tom Hanks.

  By the time Alex strolled bato his office, Rachel was standing by the window, scrolling through the test Hollywood headlines. She didn't even look up.

  "You're an asshole," she said casually.

  Alex smirked, setting his sungsses on the desk. "I assume this is about how effortlessly I just saved our entire produ?"

  Rachel turned, crossing her arms. "No. It's about how you casually texted Tom Hanks is locked in like it wasn't one of the biggest casting wins of the year."

  Alex chuckled, p himself a gss of water. "Would you rather I sent a dramatic voice memo?"

  Rachel narrowed her eyes. "Don't tempt me."

  Alex sat down, stretg his arms behind his head. "So, what's the step?"

  Rachel tossed her tablet onto the desk. "Music."

  ...

  [Fast forward to Alex's and Max's date day]

  [Baax's apartment]

  Max smirked at her refle, standing pletely naked in the cramped bathroom of their tiny apartment, pushing her boobs up with both hands.

  "Alright, Moneybags," she said to her refle, deepening her voi a terrible imitation of Alex Wilson's smooth, infuriatingly sexy tone. "I love your cupcakes, Max. They're the best I've ever had."

  She pursed her lips, making her own voice breathy and high-pitched, responding as herself.

  "Oh, Alex, stop it! You're just saying that because you wanna give me a huge..." she paused, winking at herself, "...business opportunity."

  Max dropped her hands, huffing. "Ugh. That sounded way better in my head."

  She tried once more...

  "Oh, Mr. Wilson," she purred to her refleimig a sultry, high-society voice. "You're so powerful. So rich. So incredibly generous with your business deals… Tell me, do all billiive their favorite little bakers such special treatment?"

  She giggled, then immediately snorted at herself. God, she was an idiot.

  "Oh, wow, Alex, an order? You must really love my cupcakes." She smirked at her refle, shiftiarying out different versions of her ily seductive look.

  Then, deepening her voice, she mimicked Alex's smooth, unbothered tone:

  "Max, your cupcakes are the best I've ever had."

  She paused, looked at her boobs.

  Frowned.

  Then facepalmed.

  "Jesus Christ, that sounded dirty."

  She tinued...

  "Oh, Mr. Wilson," she purred in an exaggerated sultry toilting her head and batting her eyeshes at herself in the mirror. "Yenerosity is simply overwhelming. A huhousand-dolr tract? For little old me?"

  She gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest like some 1950s housewife about to faint.

  Then, in a deep, gravelly voice, she mimicked Alex, smirking at her own refle. "Max, darling, your cupcakes have ged my life. In fact... I'm thinking of iing in you long-term."

  She snorted, biting her lip to keep from ughing. "Oh, Alex!" she cooed, shifting her voice back to a breathy, high-pitched tone. "I don't know what to say!"

  She dropped her hands, twisting her lips. "Ugh, no, that souoo submissive. He likes a challenge, right?"

  Clearihroat, she squared her shoulders, rolling them back like she was slipping into a slinky dress and not standing butt-ass naked in a cheap-ass bathroom.

  "Look, Moneybags," she started again, pnting one hand on her hip, "I know I'm irresistible, and I totally get why you wanna i in me, but let's be real... you just want an excuse to keep seeing me."

  She deepened her voice, dropping her slightly, eling Alex's signature smugness. "Guilty."

  Max let out a low, throaty chuckle. "I k. You rich boys are all the same... falling for the dangerous allure of a self-made woman."

  She wi herself.

  Then, in full-blown fantasy mode, she turned sideways, hiking one leg up onto the bathroom sink, gripping the edge like she was straddling Alex in the back of his stupidly expensive car. "Mmm, Mr. Wilson... I just don't know if I mix business and pleasure."

  "The's fet about business for a while," she murmured in her fake-Alex voice, leaning toward the mirror like she was about to kiss herself. "Just for tonight."

  Her breath hitched.

  Wait.

  Shit.

  She blinked, finally registering the heat curling iomach, the way her skin rig with awareness.

  'Oh. Oh, no.'

  Was she actually... turned on? From this?

  She stared at herself in the mirror, mortified. "Goddamn it."

  Snapping out of it, she shook her head violently, smag both cheeks. "Nope. Absolutely not. Get it together, Bck. You are not getting horny over some rich guy..."

  ...

  Caroline had seen a lot of weird shit living with Max Bck.

  She had walked in on her drunk dang o ter at 2 AM. She had witnessed Max trying to vince a pigeon to leave their fire escape by it a piece of toast. She had even seen Max wear a hoodie as pants because, and she quote, "All my real pants are in the undry, and I refuse to be oppressed by societal norms."

  But this?

  This was a whole new level.

  Caroliood frozen ihroom doorway, her brain short-circuiting as she processed the absolute insanity happening in front of her.

  Max.

  pletely naked.

  Talking to herself.

  Rolepying an imaginary business iation with Alex Wilson.

  While grabbing her own boobs.

  And now, 'oh God,' she had her leg up on the sink like she was about to re-enact a soft-core porno starring herself and Alex.

  Caroline's eye twitched.

  She sidered just bag aretending she never saw this.

  But that option was immediately thrown out the window when Max, still in full seduode, purred into the mirror:

  "Mmm, Mr. Wilson... I just don't know if I mix business and pleasure."

  Caroli her soul leave her body.

  What. The. Actual. Hell.

  Then, in a deep, gravelly voice that was somehow supposed to be Alex, Max replied to herself:

  "The's fet about business for a while... just for tonight."

  Caroline's face twisted into pure horror.

  'No. No, I refuse to be here for this. I do not get paid enough... Wait, I don't get paid at all to live with this lunatic!'

  And just whehought she might actually be able to walk away from this disaster...

  Max whispered, "Just for tonight," again, except this time?

  She actually moaned it.

  A. Full. Throaty. Moan.

  That was the moment Caroline lost her patience.

  "MAX."

  Max screamed.

  Not a cute, surprised yelp. No, this was a full-on, murder is happening, horror-movie-level scream.

  She spun around so fast she almost slipped, one foot still propped on the sink, arms filing like a panicked chi.

  Caroline, deadpan, crossed her arms. "Are you kidding me?"

  Max, panting, finally registered who was standing there. "Caroline?! What the hell?!"

  Caroliured aggressively toward the se in front of her. "WHAT THE HELL?! I should be asking you that!"

  Max scrambled to lower her leg, nearly falling over in the process. "What? What are you doing here?!"

  Caroline's eye twitched even harder. "I live here! You left the door wide open!"

  Max froze.

  Then, slowly, painfully slowly, she turo look at the door.

  Sure enough.

  Wide. Open.

  No loo barrier.

  Just pletely open, giving Caroline a full, unobstructed view of Max's... method ag.

  Max's entire body went stiff.

  Her lips parted.

  She blinked.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Then...

  "FUCK."

  She smmed the door so fast that Caroline barely had time to move out of the way.

  The sound of Max banging her head against the bathroom wall followed almost immediately.

  Caroliill standing just outside the door, pihe bridge of her nose so hard she might give herself an aneurysm.

  "Max."

  Silence.

  "Max."

  More silence.

  Then, from behind the door, a muffled, deeply pained voice: "Please kill me."

  Caroline snorted. "Oh, no, absolutely not. You do not get to die and leave me with this mental trauma."

  Max groaned, still banging her forehead lightly against the wall. "You saw that?"

  Caroline deadpanned. "Max. I witnessed it."

  A pause.

  Then Max, voice barely above a whisper: "…How much?"

  Caroline exhaled through her nose, gripping the doorframe. "You grabbed your own tits. You moaned. You flirted with your own refle in a terrible Alex impression. And then..." she ched her jaw, reliving the pure agony of the moment, "...you whisper-moaned 'just for tonight.'"

  Silence.

  Pure, suffog silence.

  Then, from behind the door:

  A deep, guttural, soul-crushing groan of despair.

  Max slid down the wall.

  "I'm never leaving this bathroom again," she decred, voice muffled against the floor.

  Caroline, arms still crossed, smirked. "Oh no, you are leaving. Because guess what? You have a business dinner with Alex tonight."

  Max let out an inhuman noise.

  Caroline tinued, mercilessly. "So you'd better get your shit together, because if you so much as look flustered around him, I swear to God, I will bring this up. Every. Single. Day."

  Max groaned louder.

  Caroliuro leave, but not before throwing out o dagger:

  "Oh, and by the way? That Alex impression? Awful. Work on it."

  And with that, she walked away.

  Max, still sprawled ohroom floor, screamed into the void.

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