tick tick boom

„I’m not sure about that. Sometimes, but it really depends on the company. Usually I prefer to keep to myself and enjoy a nice book or listen to music. You know, peace and quiet.“ Leyla admitted with a soft smile upon her lips. It didn’t take much for her to be happy, she was a simple girl after all. „That’s so true. Do you feel like there are a lot of shady people in this city? Because sometimes I wonder if it’s the Hollywood glam that draws them in or if I’m just imagining things, but to me it does seem like there’s more and more popping out by the day.“

She was already getting excited about the cooking class, eager to learn more and spend time with her friend. „Yess! I was hoping you’d say that! It’ll be amazing. Just wait and see. We’ll have so much fun. You never stop learning when it comes to cooking. There is always something new to try.“ Her excitement was clearly audible in her voice as she gushed about their plans. „What? Just wait until he looks into your pretty eyes, he’ll be swept off his feet right away.“ Leyla teased back playfully with a wink.

"i get that," she nodded in reply, "maybe you're just a social butterfly with those who've earned the privilege?" rosalyn definitely held people at arm's length until she'd gotten to know them better. it was a defence mechanism at this point to make sure she lessened the chances of getting hurt by anyone. leyla was a safe pair of hands though, she was sure of that. "hm? oh yeah, without a doubt, but then every city has its shady people. i suppose the promise of money and power here is a little more tempting than other places."

rosalyn loved how excited her friend was and she smiled widely. "well, i definitely have a lot of new things to try," she laughed, amused by her own lack of cooking expertise. her laughter intensified at leyla's comment about their teacher being swept off of his feet by her. "then i'll open my mouth and the spell will be broken." she joked back, well aware that she could be a bit of a marmite person at times, especially when she let her mouth run away from her. most men didn't like a woman who knew her own mind. "anyway, no matter what happens, i'm sure we'll have a great time."

“Sounds exhausting.” The comment slipped although it had only been meant solemnly for herself. Her chin jerked toward the empty booth by the window - the one farthest from her other customers and framed by some giant plants. "Sit there if you’re hoping for some privacy. That table is often overlooked." Frida handed her a neatly folded menu, wrapped in worn leather, adorned with hand-carved ornaments on its edges. A friendly smile curled around her lips as she prepared paper and pen to take the order. “What would you like to drink? The owner’s especially proud of our cocktail selection. Just a tip”

she threw the woman a grateful smile as she took the menu from her. "thank you. i think privacy's prob'ly a good idea. i don't want anyone else gettin' in your way because of me." she headed in the direction of said table, removing her coat as she made herself comfortable. "a drink...good question..." her eyes scanned over the menu, trying to decide what she wanted. "a cocktail, huh? well, i could definitely go for somethin' like that. how about i have one of whatever you'd recommend? you know what's good far better than i do." she offered her a smile as she looked up from her seat.

She kicked off her heels by the door and followed her into the kitchen. "And don't you dare worry about Billy," Isabel replied, rolling her eyes playfully. "That man adores you, it's his job to listen to your stories, no matter how many times you tell them." Following Scarlett's lead, Isabel made herself comfortable at the kitchen island, as she watched her friend searching for the corkscrew. "But yes, popping it right now sounds like the perfect plan to me. In fact, I insist. We deserve it."

Raising one of her brows, she nudged the blonde playfully. "What do you have planned for us tonight?" Isabel asked, eager to hear what kind of low-key, relaxing evening her friend had in mind. "How has your week been, gorgeous? I feel like it's been forever since we've had a chance to just kick back and be ourselves."

scarlett set about pulling the cork out of said bottle of champagne. after some gentle encouragement, it escaped with a loud 'pop' and flew up to the ceiling, mercifully not with a stream of liquid following it. "i don't usually get to do that, oh how fun!" she put the bottle down and grabbed a couple of flutes from the cupboard. "i think you're absolutely right, darlin', we do deserve this." she poured carefully, not wanting to waste a drop by spilling it.

"well..." scarlett started with a smile, handing isabel a glass, "i have a couple of honey and chamomile face masks that i've heard are the new in thing we need to try. apparently they can make you look younger? i'll believe it when i see it." she pointed to her own face and giggled.

"oh, this week...it's been pretty busy. i've been trying to set up a meeting with camila halperin santos. there's a new project on the cards - hopefully - an exciting one." she led isabel through to one of the lounge areas, gesturing for her to make herself comfortable wherever she pleased. "and what about you? tell me all about what you've been up to!"

Her hand slipped around the cool glass Stella set down, and she lifted it in a little salute. “A gin rickey it is. We’ll save the mystery concoction for when I’m brave enough to risk another week-long hangover. Or a proposal.” The smirk sharpened, but there was an ease in it now—Rosa was in her element, playing with words the way others played cards.

Scarlett’s mention of Camila Santos made Rosa’s brows rise, “Now that,” she said, leaning forward, “is worth toasting. About damn time more women start calling shots instead of just hitting marks. If anyone can wrangle this circus from the inside, it’s you.” She may not like Camila on a personal level, but she had begrudging respect for any woman who took on the boys club that was behind the camera.

And then the question landed back in her lap. What’s next? Rosa swirled the drink in her hand, eyes following the lime slice that bobbed against the glass. She could already hear the hollow answers she’d given in interviews—another picture soon, I can’t say which just yet, oh, the studio’s always cooking something up. Lies polished for column inches.

The truth was rougher. Roles weren’t rolling in the way they once had. Not the ones she wanted, at least. Not when younger starlets were easier to package and her name still had the shadow of those damn headlines trailing behind it. She wondered sometimes if it was her politics that had soured them, or simply the years etched into her smile. Both, maybe. And God forbid she say it out loud—Hollywood hated a woman who admitted she could see the clock.

So she did what she always did, smiled through it. “Me?” Her tone was light, easy, as if the question hadn’t just scraped raw against her pride. “I’m leaning back toward music. The stage is simpler than the screen—you show up, you sing, and nobody’s fussing over whether you fit their picture. It feels good to have an audience for the voice again, instead of just the face.”

Her mouth curved, self-mocking and sly, though the shadow underneath lingered if you knew how to look. “Besides, I hear microphones don’t care if you’re twenty-five or thirty-three. They only care if you hit the note.” She raised her glass again, masking the slip of truth with a glint of mischief. “And I still do.”

scarlett could sense a hint of unease in rosa's silence, but she wouldn't press her about it because she also sensed she didn't want to be pressed. if rosa wanted to open up to her about whatever was on her mind, then scarlett was more than happy to be a sounding board for her. but she was never one to push others to share things they didn't want to. scarlett had secrets of her own that she would find it very difficult and practically impossible to part with.

"oh you are?" scarlett's eyes lit up, delighted to hear that music was something grabbing rosa's attention again. "and you have the most wonderful voice, it's only right that everyone gets to hear it." there was that unease again though, she couldn't help noticing it. "i'd love to come and see you perform sometime, if you'd like that i mean?" as generous as scarlett was with her time, she also knew that her presence sometimes came with its drawbacks - attention taken away from other people who deserved it more than she did. that was one thing she detested about fame.

"well, ain't that the truth." scarlett had to agree with that. pushing forty years old, she was well aware of the ticking clock that was sneaking up behind her. she was often plagued with questions about when she would slow down and have children with billy, and the honest answer was that she had no idea. the moral questions raised with bringing a child into a marriage like theirs often played on her mind. and pair all that with the fact that she was no longer the young, new starlet in town - a starlet yes, but it was only so long before her light would start to fade.

"see, this is what i wanna fix." scarlett was unusually serious for a moment. "this so-called 'expiration date' they slap on us, it's all complete bull. who decided all that? men, that's who. and all so they can keep us in a box." people rarely saw this side to her. she tried her best to keep a lid on it because it wasn't 'marketable', but hearing that rosa was having trouble in the business just set her blood boiling. "you're beautiful and talented, why shouldn't they want you on the big screen? i tell you, these fellas wouldn't see their nose stuck to the front of their own face if someone didn't point it out to 'em." she huffed a noise of frustration, then looked up at rosa and softened. "i'm sorry, i'm sure you didn't come here for some kinda sermon from me. don't mind my carryin' on."

Her mention of her co-stars having their own security was met with a knowing smile. "Yes, I'm aware. My priority is your safety, and I've been fully briefed on your schedule for today. However, if there are any specific instructions or preferences you have, I'm here to accommodate them to the best of my ability." He paused, his hand still firmly around hers. "We should get going if we're to stay on schedule."

With that, he released her hand and took a step back, allowing her to lead the way out of the room. His eyes scanned the area around them, ensuring it was clear, before he followed her. Once they were moving towards the back door, he would stay close but not intrusively so, giving her the space she needed, while still maintaining a watchful presence. "If there's anything you need, just let me know. I’ll be right here.”

a smile finally appeared on her face and she felt the relief sink in, "that's reassuring. thank you, i appreciate it." there wasn't anything specific she needed as such - not yet, at least. perhaps once they got going there would be. scarlett exhaled the rest of her nerves away, brushing her dress down several times to make herself feel and appear calmer. "right, yes, you're right. we'd better get goin', huh?"

she marched towards the door, lifting the bottom of her dress sos it didn't catch on the way out. maurizio remained close to her, though not so close that she felt stifled. as was scarlett's way, she tried to keep their conversation going as they made their way to the car. "so have you worked with many other hollywood folks i might'a heard of? silly question actually, i guess you prob'ly have if you know the business well."

He leaned back a little, one arm resting along the edge of the booth. “Don’t matter how much you make or don’t make. My ma’d come out of the grave and box my ears if I let a lady — you, of all people — pick up the check.”

The words sat there a moment, heavier than he meant them to. He cleared his throat, shifted his shoulders. “Truth is, I owe you more than a plate of meatloaf anyhow. Those pictures you made… they got passed around plenty overseas. Worn reels, bad sound, sometimes half the scene skipped, but it didn’t matter.” His gaze flicked to the rain outside, softer now, then back to her. “Kept a lot of fellas goin’. Kept me goin’, on the nights when it felt like the world’d swallowed itself whole. Was a kind of… reminder there was somethin’ out there still worth comin’ home to.”

He tried for a smile, but it was tight, awkward, almost self-conscious. He caught himself rubbing at the scar that edged his jaw before forcing his hand back to his coffee. “So if I can pay for your supper, that’s the least I can do. Consider it settlin’ a very old tab.”

A beat, then he exhaled, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying to shake off the weight of what he’d just admitted. “Besides,” he added, with a flicker of wryness, “I’d never live it down if the fellas back home heard I let Scarlett bloody Alexander buy me dinner.”

"oh really?" her curiosity was piqued at his confession, and the softness in her eyes grew even softer if that was possible. scarlett didn't interrupt him, letting him say what he wanted to, and she couldn't explain the feeling that filled her chest - pride? maybe, but not quite, because it felt bittersweet. a warmth to know that her little pictures had done some good for those men risking their lives for everyone else, good that she never even knew about.

"i had no idea..." she said softly. it wasn't something her management had brought up to her. hell, they probably hadn't concerned themselves with it either because it was personal and wasn't about raking in the cash. "well then, i'd be honoured if you paid. thank you." she was quiet for a moment. "i'm just glad my little pictures could be that sort'a comfort for you all. i wish i'd known." she exhaled a soft sigh. "that means more to me than any measly award ever could." and she meant it.

scarlett's mouth ticked up in a half smirk and she allowed herself to laugh, a little levity after a serious moment. "i think you're prob'ly right, they'd laugh you outta town, and i couldn't have that on my conscience. the guilt would be unbearable!" she knew how fragile the male ego could be - and that was no insult from her - no, she just knew all too well how to navigate herself around it. "will they believe you or are you gonna need some proof?"

every Tommy Miller scene [ 4/? ]

Midday.

Her foot kicked at the naked man at her side— a director or producer— she'd met the night before. "Get up." She ordered, peeling the comforter off of her to gather both their clothes. His, she tossed his way.

"Dame una segunda"

When they were both dressed, she pulled the door opened and all but shoved the man out past her brother.

Luckily he knew from her look not to press his luck and immediately left without much complaint.

"Come in, hermano. ¿Vienes a ver a tu hermana favorita con las manos vacías?"

Her hand reached for Caleb to pull him inside in case he got too curious about the man she barely remembered the name of.

still, he said nothing to the guy, just watched him briefly as he walked away, wondering if he'd seen him somewhere before. he couldn't help but laugh as he stepped through the front door, one hand digging into his pocket as he threw marisol a look of amusement. "what do you take me for, eh?"

caleb lifted a small brown paper bag up as he followed her inside. "i brought lunch from that bakery you like so much in grand central." setting the bag down on the counter when he got into the kitchen, he left it for her to inspect first. "i had to fight an old man for it so...you're welcome."

Her gaze fell to the ground for a brief moment, her eyes lingering on the items that had been knocked out of her hands during the collision. A few apples rolled away, and her shopping list crumpled at their feet. She quickly bent down to retrieve them, heart racing as she cracked a joke: “I‘m usually not this distracted, I swear. Anyhow, glad you’re still in one piece.“

thankfully, she managed to pick up some of it, and handed it back with an apologetic look on her face. "hopefully they're not too bruised. and that you're not either?" it sounded like a line of some sort, but she was genuinely worried she'd collided with her harder than she'd realised. sometimes stevie didn't know her own strength.

Her bright eyes searched the person she'd bumped into, and she quickly offered a hand to steady them. Fiona had been in the city for a couple of months now, trying to find her footing and absorb as much of the local culture as she could. The hustle and bustle was both thrilling and overwhelming, and she hadn't quite gotten the hang of navigating crowded spaces here yet.

"I'm just clumsy," she added, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her stomach growled audibly, reminding her of the reason she'd ventured into the market in the first place - she'd been searching for something to eat. The smells were intoxicating, but she hadn't had the courage to approach any of the stalls just yet. "I'm not usually this... uncoordinated," she assured the other, hoping to make light of the situation.

"I'm fine," she flashed a quick grin, "no harm done. i'm made of pretty tough stuff, or so i like to think anyway." she wasn't lying about that, but stevie always found that people had a certain reaction when a woman held herself with confidence in the way she did. some found it unnerving, others just simply hated it.

"there's no shame in that, everyone's gotta trip and fall sometime. you're okay though too, right?" she realised she hadn't actually asked which was rude of her. "you're not feeling uncoordinated because you bumped your head or something, are you?" stevie was sure nothing like that had happened, but she thought it best to check anyway.

Swiping herself a new drink, she was observing the crowd when she spotted a woman using a move as old as time, yet she found herself watching her anyway. She was haste, Leti would give her that, and she'd chosen the perfect schnook to pull it off, since he was none the wiser. It was almost too clever for someone who didn't have practice with gaining information in any way possible, however, and now she felt like prying.

Once the man carried on about his business, she took a few short steps towards the younger woman. "Smart move." She praised before sipping on her drink again. "You writing a newspaper article on which stallions the rich people are betting on?" Was it fair to just opened question her motives? Probably not. Would she take it back? Definitely not. "Or is this something more scandalous? You expecting the sleazy schmuck to be up to something illegal?"

"straight in for the kill, huh?" rosalyn took a careful sip, giving her a second to gather her thoughts and decide how she was going to answer such a direct question. she respected the directness in all honesty - it was refreshing. too many people tiptoed around the things they wanted to know. "cards on the table," she began to reply, "i have my suspicions that either he knows something about the race that most of us don't or he's completely dense and doesn't understand what 'a hundred to one' means. i haven't decided which it is yet. i've seen how long it takes him to ties his shoelaces so it really could be the latter."

Her brows rose at Rosalyn’s mention of being “busy,” curiosity sparking, though she kept her tone light. “Busy, she says, like she didn’t just dangle a mystery in front of me.” She nudged her with her elbow, smirk tugging at her mouth. “Just so you know I’m terrible with half-secrets. Now I’ll be stuck wondering if you’ve uncovered that Johnny Halperin collected stamps or robbed a candy store in his youth.”

Zara took a sip of her drink, eyes cutting toward the crowd with amusement. “But drama, that I can believe. This city can’t even order coffee without turning it into a scene. Put them all in the same place, betting on horses, and someone’s bound to lose more than their manners.” She glanced back at Rosalyn, grin wide. “I already know of one plan of rigging the race, and there's bound to be more."

ros grinned, knowing zara would be interested in what she'd found. even though she wasn't sure about the information's legitimacy yet, she was still intrigued by it. "would you rather work it out yourself or are you here for the spoilers?" she snorted at zara's words, a rather unladylike sound, but who was to say what was ladylike and what wasn't? rosalyn hated the word. "robbing a candy store wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. i could see him filling his pockets. does that count as speaking ill of the dead? hopefully not."

"oh you do?" colour ros intrigued. "now you mention that, i did accidentally pick up that guys betting slip earlier," she pointed over to the man she'd very clumsily bumped into not long ago, "and he'd put his money down in some very questionable places. wonder if he's in on it or just an idiot?"