Page 11 of Seeking Stars
"This one right now has a 500 gig memory card. I film everything into as many of those as I need to and then edit that content. That mostly happens after I'm done but sometimes I also do a bit of editing while I'm filming. It helps me come up with my questions."
He nodded, his eyes fixating on the camera lens. His smile softened until it disappeared, a thoughtful look now on his face. She let him search within himself, stretching time between them. Sitting in comfortable silence with her interviewees proved critical, time and time again, to create the atmosphere her fans enjoyed.
"I'll confess something." He lifted his eyes to hers. They sparkled. "I've seen your work. I discovered it last year and I really like what you do. I actually subscribe to your YouTube channel."
"What?!" She couldn't control the incredulous tone of her voice any more than she could believe he liked her films. So much for remaining unaffected.
"Yeah." He chuckled. He may have found her reaction amusing, but she did not. Heat flooded her face. "I use a pseudonym online, of course."
"Of course," she echoed, commanding her body to calm down.
"I happen to love what you do. You have this way of telling someone's story that's just… it makes you feel like you’re being invited into this person’s life, and allowed to see something intimate, and like you should be thankful for the gift. I first watched that one about dating you did? So good. And last night I watched the one with the Maori teacher."
Her face warmed again, but her body relaxed. She hadn’t expected candor from a self-absorbed star. Perhaps she'd jumped to conclusions too quickly, when she met him the day before.
She cleared her throat, silently begging her face to return to its natural olive tone once more.
"I guess there's a difference between liking my work and wanting to be a part of it."
"Yes. Exactly."
She cast her eyes down to her lap and fiddled with her camera, looking for something to say. Silence didn't feel as comfortable now. She looked up to the fountain for inspiration.
"So… did you recognize me in the office? When I came in."
The sound that came out of him could have been a scoff or a strangled chuckle, and lived somewhere in the middle.
"No. I was too wound up to look at you properly. Now I see it, though."
"Except for noticing my Queen shirt."
He nodded and gave her a small smile. "I'd like to propose something. How about you record our meeting right now, and we pretend this is going to be in the documentary? If I end up agreeing to do it, you can use it."
"And if you don't?"
He shrugged. "You delete it."
She waited a moment. "Do you want me to sign something saying that?"
He stilled and his lips went rigid for an instant. "No, not for this. I'm not that fussy."
"Okay." She pressed the record button and decided to be more careful with the sass. She chose a lower angle which, although unflattering, could feel like a secret moment. "I'm recording."
***
"What happens next?" he asked. Curiosity drove him. He hadn't been lying when he told her he liked her films.
"We talk." After checking the camera's screen again, she met his gaze once more.
She had gorgeous brown eyes, a vivid burnt umber that stared deeply into him. Her dark hair fell straight down, almost to her waist. Her lips were unpainted today, yet they managed to distract from her big eyes, drawing his attention to their soft shape. She wore a casual outfit: another 80’s rock band t-shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, and light-washed jeans that hinted at her generous curves.
Fuck. How studied was her look? Because it seemed unpretentious, but cynicism made him question her authenticity anyway. Plenty of people had fed this automatic doubt since arriving in Hollywood… but no. He'd take her at face value. If he was going to give this thing a chance and get to know her, he couldn't be so self-absorbed he assumed the worst of her.
"About?" He made himself ask.
"Anything."
He studied her. Her face remained open, neutral. Her body relaxed.
