I don't know what we're supposed to do now. In some ways, as we step into the lift, we're still in our bubble of domesticity, and it feels like we could just be stepping out for our usual day of work. But I'm also hyperaware that our professional reason for being together no longer exists. We will not be forced together by circumstance anymore, and that feels weird.

So far, nothing between us has been planned, which is unusual for me. I used to send myself a daily email with my schedule, but I've upgraded. Now I have an electronic list that I update nightly. Only "bang the publicist" hasn't been on the list at all. In fact, I haven't even looked at my list since publicity for Press Release started. That's odd, right?

No matter. Time for me to get back on track.

"Need a ride home?" Minnie asks as we exit after waving goodbye to Amran, the morning concierge, who now also recognizes me.

The thought of getting home hadn't occurred to me. The limo driver had dropped us off here after the party, so I am currently without a vehicle. What does it mean though? If she takes me home, do I have to invite her in? Do I want her in another of my safe havens? Mentally, I chastise myself. Does it matter? If she wants to come into my home, I will throw open the doors for her, lay down a red carpet, and allow her to wander through every room and open every closet door.

She reads my hesitation wrong, "No worries, H. It's not like I need to come in for a tour. I just thought maybe you'd prefer not to find other transportation."

I grip the door handle on the passenger side of her car, "I would appreciate the ride home."

Smiling, she climbs behind the wheel and we set off. I've put my address into her GPS system, so she doesn't need me to give her directions.

"For your information," I say, "I was actually thinking that you should come see my place. Stay over for a night maybe." Biting my lip while I say it because that would be like making plans. And we don't make plans. It feels uncomfortable and strange.

Her phone rings, and she glances at the readout on the radio screen. "Shit. I need to take this, Harry. Would you mind not listening?" The words are said tongue in cheek because there's no way I can't hear the conversation when she answers it on the car's Bluetooth.

"Charles," she says as she clicks the Accept button.

"Olivia! Thank God you answered, darling! I'm going insane here. I listened to your advice, and I auditioned for two movies that are like --- A LIST, baby -- but I just got the second of two rejection calls. I'm ready to give up. Why me? Why don't they want me anymore?"

Snort. I can tell him why they don't want him. It's because he's a whiny brat. But I'm not listening so I keep my mouth shut and continue looking out of the window at the sights of LA traffic.

Minnie waits for the pause, and then she waits another few seconds (maybe to be sure he's done talking or just to gather her thoughts). "Charles. They don't want you because you're whining again."

I want to cheer when I hear her tell him the truth.

"You have to go into these auditions with your best foot forward, and that means no whining about how you're not getting the kind of roles you deserve. Everyone has to earn their next movie. So get over yourself and pretend that you've never been in a movie before," Minnie wisely shares her thoughts, "Remember when you felt lucky to be invited to any callback at all? You've got to put yourself in that frame of mind again, my friend, or you will be miserable always. And..."

He tries to interrupt, but my girl just keeps talking louder over him, "AND you will never get another job if you're always complaining about how you're not getting worthy work. Consider television, Charles. Or stage. There are tons of roles out there that will keep your acting skills sharp and your name in the public eye. They don't have to be award-winning roles. Remember, the best actors can make any role award-winning."

The silence on the other end of the line makes a crackling noise, and just as I've wondered if he's hung up, his disembodied voice comes through, "My agent says there's a role for a voice in an animated movie." There's a tiny sliver of hope in his tone.

"See?" Minnie says, "You could make that your next challenge. You've not done voiceover work before. It might be the launching pad you need."

The whiny voice is back, "Do you think so, O? I mean, it's not really much of a chal-"

She interrupts him, "Charles. You're whining again. Go call your agent. I have to get off the phone now."

I'm impressed at her business acumen, but also at her no-nonsense attitude. Everyone in Hollywood knows this actor. He was really good once, and it occurs to me that he was probably only good because Minnie worked with him. What I've heard lately is that he's become a spoiled brat.

As soon as the phone disconnects, I turn to her, "Why don't you represent him anymore?"

She sighs, taking the exit for my house. "I told you the starfish story, Harry, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, sometimes when I help one starfish, he becomes too dependent. The goal is for them to get back in the water and swim on their own. That happens with about 95% of my clients. Their careers take off, and a normal publicist is all they need. But there's that stubborn 5% who require a lifetime of handholding to be successful." She is talking as if I'm not even in the car, but I'm grateful for this insight into her world. The last few days I'd seen some signs that she's not as happy with her work as she should be.

"And I'm not the person who can help them," she ends on a near-whisper, and I hear her crushed spirit. "There's no greater success in my chosen profession than to find that I'm no longer needed. That makes me happy. When I can help someone get on their feet and move forward, that is why I do this work. But I confess that when I can't help someone.....it breaks my heart. One little piece at a time."

"Is that why you let them continue to call you?" I ask. "Are you hoping that something will click, and your efforts will not be in vain?"

She pulls into my driveway and puts the car into park. "Not anymore. I let them keep calling me because they have nowhere else to go."

This woman. Holy shit. I think I might be falling for her kind and loving heart. She's got a streak of altruism that I hadn't seen clearly before, and it touches me.

Leaning across the center console, I wrap my hand behind her neck, pulling her to me as I cup her cheek. Our lips meet in a gentle kiss at first, a simple "see ya later" kind of touch. But then she uses her tongue to trace the line of my lips, and I open to her, gasping when she thrusts her tongue past my teeth. It feels like she's drowning, seeking something in my kiss, and I do my best to demonstrate that I'm here for her. I'd do anything she asked right at that moment. Tangling my hand in her hair, I try to pull her closer, and her mouth opens wider. She nibbles at my lower lip, pulling it into her mouth as she ends the kiss.

Fuck. I live for you. I long for you.

"I'll talk to you soon," she murmurs as I grasp the door handle to let myself out. As I open the gate, she drives off, and I watch her, wondering when we'll talk. And what our future might hold now that we won't be working together.

==========

The interview today is live, and Meg tunes in to watch with Titus by her side. Okay, technically the three year old is on the floor playing with his cars, but when Xavier's smiling face comes on the screen, Meg holds her breath.

"Zaver my friend," Titus says quietly when he sees the face on the screen.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Meg asks, "How do you know he's your friend?"

"Tode me. On da phone," her son shares, and Meg is mystified.

Pulling out her phone, she scrolls through the previous calls, and her voice catches when she sees the FaceTime notice in Xavier's contact information. How the hell had her son managed to FaceTime with her boss?

She focuses back on the interview which appears to be going really well. Xavier is charming, smiling, and Meg is impressed at how polished he is in his first solo interview. He looks exhausted, though, even with the heavy makeup they use for high definition filming.

"Welcome back to the studio where you got your start in the remake of 'Family Ties'. Does this set bring back memories?" the reporter asks.

The camera pans the soundstage, and then focuses tight on Xavier's face where he's clearly schooled his features into a mask, "It always feels good to visit my roots," he says with a grin, "I had some fun times here with my co-stars."

"What was it like moving from the fame of television to working on a movie with a star like Harry Styles?" she asks, leaning forward in her chair, anxious to hear his response.

"I'm a massive fan of Harry," he smirks, and Meg does too as his words sound exactly like something Harry would say, "so I'm honored I got to work with him on this film. He's been like an older brother to me throughout."

Meg's heart is warmed, especially since X had been so negative towards Harry in the beginning. And when the reporter asks about those early days, Xavier doesn't shy away, "I was a jerk when we started filming, Marcia. I had a lot to learn, and it took some special people to help me see a better way forward."

Tearing up, Meg reaches for the screen. If she'd been asked to predict how his first solo interview would go, this is not what she would have thought. She's incredibly proud of the man he's grown up to be. If only he hadn't been an ass in New York. As the interview ends, the cameraman zooms in on Xavier's face, and Meg catches her breath. He's so handsome and clearly wiped out. A part of her wishes she'd listened to him this morning.

It's clear that he needs her.

============

Minnie is relieved to have the interview over. The last act she had as Xavier's publicist is now complete, and she can think about taking a break before choosing a new client. Just the thought of someone new filled with insecurities and challenges weighs Minnie down, so she pushes away the thought, wondering if she should take a trip somewhere quiet. Maybe on her own like she'd been planning before Xavier. Or maybe with Harry?

A loud sound draws her attention back to the set where Xavier has apparently kicked his director's chair backwards as he steps back, his hands up in a pleading gesture. She can see he's trembling, and she has no clue why. The sound engineer was just trying to remove -- oh, fuck. The sound engineer. How had she forgotten? Dammit. Meg always took care of his microphone on these things.

Rapidly, Minnie moves towards where Xavier is standing. As she gets closer, she can hear the older man's harsh words, "Just give me the fucking mic, you little prick. Jesus fucking Christ, did you think I was going to hit you or something?"

She steps in front of the man as Xavier gathers his courage and shouts, "Like you did before, you asshole?"

The whole room has frozen, and Minnie prays no one has turned on a camera.

The technician tries to laugh it off, "I never hit you hard or anything. Just gave you the occasional punch to get you to pay attention to the equipment so it wouldn't get damaged. You were the one always playing around on set. You broke a number of things messing around with your snotty big shot attitude. And now that you're a big movie star, you think you can ...."

"Enough," Minnie intervenes, grasping Xavier's arm and pulling him closer to her, removing his microphone herself and handing it to the ogre. "We are leaving now, and your bosses are going to hear about this incident," she points to the sound guy. As she grabs Xavier's bag with his clothes and other items as well as her own personal belongings, she turns to the room, "And if anyone took video of that exchange, you can send it to me so I can get his sorry ass fired. I'll make it worth your while so you don't need to go to the press."

Steering him from the room, Minnie keeps her hand on his back. Xavier's still shaking, his teeth chattering. Dammit. This is not what she needed on the last day of this job. Shit. She should have paid attention to the sound technician. Fuck. How had she not probed his anxiety before? This wouldn't have been an issue if Minnie had heard the story earlier. She could have made sure the jerk was fired before they arrived for this interview. Hell, she could have helped Xavier get the right therapy. Abuse. Not something she'd considered. She just thought he was one of those lost LA boys who was lonely and didn't know how to make friends. Shifting the items in her hand, she pinches the bridge of her nose.

She's released Xavier to unlock the car and put their things in the trunk. He shouldn't be alone right now. He certainly can't drive. It's as she closes the trunk that she notices he's nowhere to be seen. Where had he gone? Watching as his car pulls out of the lot, tires squealing, Minnie's worry grows. This is not a good thing.

Quickly pulling out of the lot herself, she tries to follow him, but she loses sight of his car after the first two turns. Although she tries calling, he doesn't answer. Where would he go? He doesn't trust many people.

Using her Bluetooth, Minnie calls Harry and explains the situation. "Let me know if he calls or comes by, please?" Harry agrees, but neither one is confident that Harry is the person X would go to.

Which leaves Meg. Minnie decides it can't hurt to drive to Meg's house just in case, and she instructs her phone to dial Meg's number. She's made too much progress with Xavier to not see this situation to its conclusion.

=============

Hanging up the phone, Meg starts pacing. She doesn't know what to do with this information. Or even if X will come to her. Not after this morning. Where would he go though? Home? He's probably holed up at his place drinking.

When Minnie arrives, Meg doesn't waste time explaining. She merely says she needs Minnie to babysit Titus for her, grabbing her purse and making her way out of the door. "Be good for Olivia, baby boy!" she calls to her son as she leaves.

The drive to Xavier's house feels like it takes hours. Meg bites her fingernails, pushing just beyond the speed limit when she can, but LA traffic is horrendous as always. In 45 minutes, she pulls up to his gate. Thank goodness she still has the key. Parking, she slams the car door, storming towards the house, desperate to stop Xavier from drowning himself in booze.

Throwing open the door, she's confronted with silence. No loud party. She checks the kitchen but sees no empty bottles. Moving on to the game room, Meg spots no one. Nothing. Scratching her head, she can't figure out where he could have gone. His car is in the drive so he'd been here at some point. Worried he had gone out clubbing with friends, she glides through the other rooms in an attempt to find some clue as to where he might have gone.

Pushing open the door to the master bedroom, Meg halts, her breath catching. He's here. Lying on the bed in the darkened room, staring at the ceiling.

"Xavier?" she tentatively takes a step towards him, unsure if he will want her there.

There's no response, and Meg's stomach drops. Is he okay? But then he releases a sob that tears at her heart, and she quickly takes several steps to the side of the bed. Looking down, she sees tears streaming from his eyes. He covers his face with his forearm, but it's too late. She's witnessed his anguish.

So Meg does the only thing she can do at this moment. She kicks off her shoes and climbs into bed with him, curling up by his side and wrapping him in her arms. He's stiff at first, but then he turns his head into her chest, his sobs growing louder as his whole body shakes with the force of his pain.

"It's okay, Xavier. I've got you," Meg whispers, pressing light kisses to the top of his head. "Meg's here. I've got you," she repeats.