She felt the car door open and slowly turned her head, all the spark from her performance gone. Her speech still hadn't snapped back, her eyes shimmering as she gazed at Simon, her voice still soft and sticky: "You little punk, you're bullying me."
Seeing Janet like this, Simon felt a wave of regret. Six straight hours of repetitive shooting was mentally exhausting, and with no acting experience, she'd poured in far more energy than anyone else on set.
He reached in and lifted her from the driver's seat. Before he could say anything, she rubbed her cheek against his arm a few times, found her spot, and opened her mouth to bite down.
Simon was only in a short-sleeved T-shirt; the feel of her teeth startled him.
A moment later, realizing she was just holding a bit of his skin without really sinking in, he relaxed.
But.
The scene turned awkward.
The crew, who'd crowded over thinking something was wrong, now wore half-smiles.
Feeling the two rows of little teeth clamped on his bicep, Simon kept holding her close, casually directing everyone to wrap up and telling Jennifer to have Neil Bennett bring the car around.
After all that fuss, Simon finally carried Janet out of the soundstage and into her Land Rover at the door.
Neil shielded them as they got in; Kathryn climbed into the passenger seat, turning to the back. "Simon, is she really okay?"
Simon gently lifted his right arm—Janet's head bobbed with it—and gave Kathryn a wry smile. "See? She's biting hard." Then he leaned down to coax: "Babe, raw's no good. Let's cook it at home before you bite, okay?"
"Mmm..."
Kathryn rolled her eyes at his words, but seeing Janet hum and snuggle closer, she relaxed. As she moved to get out, Neil started the engine.
Not planning to head back to Palisades with them, Kathryn was about to tell Neil to stop when Simon's voice came from the back: "Come to our place. It's been ages since we hung out—let's have dinner together."
It seemed like after Near Dark wrapped, they hadn't spent much time together. Her heart tugged at the memory of last Halloween, the three of them cooking dinner and hitting the carnival.
Hearing him, she didn't dare turn around.
She caught his earnest look in the rearview mirror and settled back in.
The Land Rover exited Fox Studios' north gate and soon turned onto Santa Monica Boulevard.
After Simon's invitation, Janet's little teeth tightened a bit. He scratched lightly at her waist until she wriggled and eased up, then said to Kathryn again: "Speaking of, how's Near Dark doing at the box office?"
It was July 30, a Thursday.
The film's sixth week in theaters.
Knowing his controlling nature, he couldn't be unaware of the numbers. Realizing he was just making conversation, Kathryn replied: "Last weekend's cumulative was $32.19 million. Should hit $36 million before it drops off." Glancing in the mirror, she added: "I still haven't properly thanked you."
His involvement had elevated Near Dark' quality. And riding the wave from Run Lola Run and The Butterfly Effect, it'd gotten the buzz and grosses it had.
Thinking that, regret hit her unexpectedly.
Last Christmas.
Maybe.
She should've taken the little guy to San Francisco.
Another mirror glance at Janet curled like a kitten in his lap, and she felt a pang of self-disappointment.,,, What a failure of a woman I am.
The car soon pulled into the Palisades mansion.
Though her accent hadn't fully reverted, Janet perked up once home.
It was 7:30, the sky darkening.
The three prepped dinner in the kitchen, then watched TV and chatted afterward until past nine. Kathryn meant to leave, but Janet tugged her to stay over.
Simon, naturally, got booted to another bedroom.
In the villa's master bedroom, after showers and pajamas, Janet pulled Kathryn onto the big bed, flipping open an atlas. "Right here—Tasmania. Simon and I are gonna buy the whole thing. Kate, guess how big it is?"
Kathryn eyed the island, prominent even against mainland Australia, her voice still off. "Bigger than a lot of small countries, right? How could you possibly buy it all?"
"Tasmania's land is cheap—we just bought a 1,300-acre farm. The whole island's 16.9 million acres. Stick with it, and one day it'll all be ours."
Kathryn pictured the vast gap between 16.9 million and 1,300 acres, shaking her head. "I don't know where you get these wild ideas."
Janet shot her a dissatisfied glance. "This isn't my wild idea—it's the little punk's dream."
"Fine, dream," Kathryn smiled. "And then?"
Janet blinked, puzzled. "What 'and then'?"
Kathryn hugged a pillow from behind her. "I mean, even if you could buy the island—and then?"
Janet's mind whirred, then she lifted her chin. "Realizing the dream is enough—no need for 'and then.' Besides, there'd be tons of 'and thens,' and they'd all be fun. It's a huge island."
Kathryn didn't argue, switching topics: "You planning to keep talking like that forever?"
Janet set the atlas aside, rubbed her face, made some "mm-ah" sounds, then tried: "How about now?"
Kathryn shook her head. "Still weird."
Janet shrugged. "Then I'll leave it. That little punk likes it anyway."
After a full day, they chatted idly a bit more before Janet yawned. Kathryn turned off the light, and they lay down.
In the dark.
Quiet for just a moment, Janet rustled over: "Kate, I'm used to hugging the little punk to sleep."
Feeling Janet's little hand on her waist, Kathryn felt odd, grabbing it to stop the fidgeting with a huff: "Then go find him—what're you hugging me for?"
"Hehe," Janet pressed her whole body closer, wrapping around fully. "You're the same."
The same?
How could it be the same?
Why would it be the same?
Kathryn's mind spun with chaos, but feeling no more moves from Janet, she gradually relaxed.
It seemed.
This felt... not bad.
So she slowly reached out, carefully draping her arm over Janet.
Thinking they'd sleep like that, but after a bit, Janet spoke again: "Kate, the little punk's probably still up, right?"
Kathryn sensed trouble: "Mm?"
Janet said: "Should we call him over?"
Call him over?
For what?
To do... what!
No way!
Slap—
"Ouch, that hurts."
"No more nonsense, or I'm leaving."
"Mm-hmm," Janet seemed to pout. "I mustered up a lot of courage just now, Kate. Don't say I didn't give you a chance."
Kathryn lifted her hand again.
Janet begged: "Okay, okay, I won't say more. Sleep."
Worn out from the day, Janet soon dozed off.
But Kathryn barely slept, her mind swirling with random thoughts.
She didn't know how long passed before faint sounds stirred her. Opening her eyes, dawn peeked through the curtains. Janet was still tangled around her—Does she hug that guy all night like this usually?
Really...
Her cheeks warmed.
Fully awake, she gently disentangled, checking the time: just six a.m.
After washing up and leaving the bedroom, she saw the study door open—he was up.
Janet had shot for six hours straight yesterday and ended up biting from exhaustion. His workload these days was heavier, yet he was up this early.
Maybe.
This was the real him.
If he wasn't always this driven, how could he have all this now?
At the bedroom door, she hesitated, then walked toward the open study.
Simon had woken at five, earlier than Kathryn thought. Now he stood by the desk corner, coffee in hand, phone to ear with Noah Scott in Chicago.
The same 20-point rise: S&P 500 from 270 to 290 took a month and a half, but 290 to 310? Just three weeks.
He recalled the pre-Black Monday peak around 330. So from July 27, when it broke 310, he'd ordered Noah to turnover again.
Over the past four days, Westeros had unwound over half its 6,800 contracts while rebuilding longs at 1,000 per day.
The 6,800 lots, at 20-point average gain, meant $10,000 theoretical profit each.
After this turnover, Westeros's capital would hit $200 million; Simon planned to bump longs to 10,000. Then, 310 to 330—if no hitches—$300 million by September.
Memory's September delivery was way stormier than June's.
But with $300 million, light positioning in the downtrend could net a bit more. Into October, two-plus weeks before the October 19 crash for final setup.
Spotting Kathryn at the door, Simon smiled, mouthing "good morning," and kept discussing buy/sell plans with Noah.
Seeing him on the phone, Kathryn almost backed off, but his silent greeting drew her in. She stood at the desk's far corner, pretending interest in his talk.
But terms like longs, unwinds, turnovers left her baffled.
She just wanted to be near him.
Distracted, she noted his long-sleeved shirt today and stifled a laugh.
Janet's bite mark probably hadn't faded.
Then.
He suddenly passed her his coffee mug.
Confused, she took it, holding it blankly, glancing at the half-cup.
What did this mean?
For her?
Not drinking would be rude.
But.
Clearly you've been drinking from it?
Hesitating, she brought it to her lips for a tiny sip.
Nice coffee.
But it felt... weird.
Why were her cheeks heating up?
Then.
As the fax machine hummed, spitting pages with his free hand, her cheeks burned hotter.
And though straight-faced, that smile tugging his lips—think I can't see it?
Little punk!
The fax stopped; he reached out again.
Tempted to dump the coffee on him—but that'd be too much—she handed it back.
But his hand didn't take the mug; it grabbed her wrist instead.
She wasn't Janet.
What is this?
Her mind raced as he pulled her close, that smirking face leaning in for a kiss on her lips, then pulling back before she could react.
You!
She glared fiercely, a warning.
One more overstep, and she'd blow up.
He didn't.
As if nothing happened, all casual, emphasizing something into the phone.
What was that?
So she blew up.
Reaching over, she pinched hard on his other arm.
I may not bite, but I can pinch?
Little punk!
The sting hit; Simon sucked in a sharp breath.
Too harsh.
Hurt more than Janet's bite.
Phone still on, he couldn't show it, just silently begged the woman for mercy.
Seeing his pitiful look, Kathryn softened fast. She released, glared once more, then turned and left the study.
But.
Her quickened steps screamed escape.