Chapter 88: Practically Drooling
"Mr. Anderson, here's the contract. Congratulations—and may we have a smooth partnership."
The real estate agent handed Aaron Anderson the paperwork for his West Hollywood home.
Aaron nodded, glancing at the pages with quiet satisfaction. The house he'd been renting for over a year had just been listed for sale, and since he'd grown attached to it, he decided to buy it outright.
$700,000—a fair price for a piece of Hollywood comfort.
---
Back at Dawnlight Films, Quentin Tarantino dropped by Aaron's office, looking unusually animated.
"Hey, Aaron—have you seen The Killer?"
Aaron looked up, raising an eyebrow. "John Woo's The Killer? Yeah, I've seen it. Why?"
Quentin nodded enthusiastically. "Man, it's incredible. The gunplay, the slow motion, the style—it's pure cinematic poetry. I've never seen violence filmed that beautifully."
Aaron chuckled. "It's definitely something new. Hong Kong cinema's been evolving fast. The Killer made the rounds at Sundance, Cannes, Toronto… critics love calling it the birth of a new 'violent aesthetic.'"
Of course he knew it. John Woo's name was already becoming a legend.
But Aaron wasn't in the mood to talk film theory. "By the way, Quentin, you've been holed up at the Angel Theater for weeks now. Any progress on that script of yours?"
He was, of course, referring to Pulp Fiction.
Quentin grinned. "Yeah, I've got some ideas. I've been watching a ton of foreign films—trying to… y'know, borrow a few things."
Aaron laughed. "Figures. Anyway, Jack's still managing the place—if you need help with anything, just ask him. He's a former agent; he'll know how to handle people."
Tarantino nodded gratefully. For him, the Angel Theater—still under renovation—was paradise: endless VHS tapes, old reels, and all the cinematic junk food he could consume.
---
That evening, Aaron drove up into the Griffith Park hills of East Hollywood.
There, he met Jennifer Connelly, who had just wrapped another day of shooting at the nearby Griffith Observatory set for The Rocketeer.
"So," Aaron said with a sly smile as they sat together in a quiet Los Feliz restaurant, "you're telling me the Rocketeer production's over budget and behind schedule?"
Jennifer sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, the weather's been awful, and one of the camera rigs broke down. We're stuck filming at Griffith Park for at least a few more weeks. I'm not going back to Stanford anytime soon."
Aaron smirked, taking a sip of wine. "Technical delays, huh? Sounds expensive."
He didn't bother hiding his amusement. Big studio projects running into trouble? Always music to his ears.
"You've basically spent the whole year with that crew," he teased. "If The Rocketeer bombs next summer, that'll be… interesting."
Jennifer rolled her eyes with a small laugh.
After dinner, they wandered down the street to a cozy bar filled with Christmas lights and Sinatra songs—the December air thick with festive warmth.
As they danced slowly under the soft red glow, Aaron's arm around her waist, he felt completely at ease.
At least until he walked in.
Across the bar, Billy Campbell, Jennifer's co-star in The Rocketeer, had just arrived with a few friends.
Aaron didn't notice him at first. He leaned down, kissed Jennifer, and whispered, "Give me a sec—I'll be right back."
"Okay," she said, smiling. "I'll be at the table."
Aaron headed toward the restroom.
Moments later, a familiar voice called out behind Jennifer.
"Hey, Jennifer! What a coincidence!"
She turned, surprised. "Billy! Hi."
Billy Campbell, tall and effortlessly charming, grinned as he slid into the seat next to her. "Didn't expect to see you here. You look incredible tonight."
Jennifer raised an eyebrow but smiled politely. "Thanks. Done shooting for the day?"
"Yeah," Billy said, pouring himself a drink from the table's bottle. "Tomorrow's Saturday—no scenes. I only had one short take tonight."
He leaned a little closer. "We're heading to a wrap party later. You should come."
Jennifer chuckled softly. "Thanks, but I'm exhausted. I'd rather just rest."
"Come on," Billy coaxed. "No shooting tomorrow. You can afford to have a little fun."
He'd had a thing for her since day one on set. The way she moved, the way she smiled—it was impossible not to be drawn in.
Jennifer, amused but firm, replied, "You know me, Billy. I'm still a Stanford girl at heart. Early to bed, early to rise."
Billy sighed dramatically. "Shame. I was hoping to dance with you, at least."
He gave her a half-smile, his gaze lingering just a moment too long.
---
And from the other side of the bar, Aaron had just stepped out of the restroom—
only to see Billy Campbell leaning in close, smiling at Jennifer.
Aaron's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Well," he muttered under his breath, "this should be fun."
Billy Campbell extended his hand, his smile a little too charming.
"Come on, Jennifer. Let's dance."
Jennifer Connelly gave a polite laugh, sidestepping neatly. "Billy, I just finished dancing. I was sitting down to rest for a bit."
Billy didn't take the hint. "Jennifer, I thought we were friends by now…"
"Hey," came a calm, easy voice from behind him, "she said she's tired."
Billy froze.
Aaron Anderson had returned from the restroom without anyone noticing. He walked straight over, sat down beside Jennifer, and—without hesitation—slipped an arm around her shoulders.
Then, right in front of Billy, he leaned in and kissed her.
Jennifer smiled, leaning naturally into his embrace.
Aaron turned to the other man, his tone casual but edged with amusement.
"So, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"
Jennifer chuckled softly and made the introductions. "This is Billy Campbell—the lead actor in The Rocketeer. We've been filming together."
Then she looked up at Aaron, her eyes glinting. "And this is Aaron Anderson—a film producer."
Billy blinked. The name didn't immediately register, but the picture was clear enough. He'd been flirting, and the guy whose girlfriend he'd been flirting with had just walked in.
Still, his pride made him frown slightly. "A… film producer? You look pretty young for that."
Aaron smiled faintly—the kind of smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Billy, was it? Well, since you're Jennifer's friend, order whatever you want. My treat."
He gave Jennifer's thigh a light, teasing pat. "Let's all have a drink together, shall we?"
That little gesture said everything Billy needed to know.
Ah. That kind of relationship.
No wonder Jennifer had always brushed off his hints on set.
Awkwardly clearing his throat, Billy forced a smile. "Oh, no need, really. I came with some friends. Just saw Jennifer and wanted to say hello."
He stepped back, his grin stiff. "Didn't mean to interrupt. You two enjoy your evening."
And with that, he beat a hasty retreat toward the bar.
Jennifer couldn't hold it in any longer—she burst out laughing, covering her mouth.
"My dear," she said between giggles, "you were terribly wicked just now."
"Wicked?" Aaron arched an eyebrow, watching Billy disappear into the crowd. "That guy was practically drooling over you. If you two weren't on the same film, I wouldn't have been nearly so polite."
Jennifer laughed again, shaking her head. "Jealous much?"
Aaron smirked. "Maybe. But can you blame me?"
She didn't answer—just leaned in and kissed him.
Across the bar, Billy Campbell, tall and broad-shouldered, stood at over six-foot-three…
but at that moment, he looked very, very small.