37 Damon Jacobs

The prosecution rests after they release my husband. They no longer have any witnesses or people to testify against me. All this means that it’s Bridget’s turn. She gets to call people to the stand to testify on my behalf, but Judge Everett calls it a day before that. Court resumes tomorrow where we will pick up from there.

It doesn’t take long for me to get out of the courtroom and shuffled out into the waiting swarm of people. Just as I’m about halfway through, I feel a hand on my shoulder pulling me back. At first it freaks me out, but then I realize the guards are letting it happen. Then, just like that, a familiar body is pressed against my back and my favorite mouth it to my ear, “Hey babe.”

The cameras go wild. The flashes are blinding and I just try to keep my head down. I’ll worry about talking to him when we get into the waiting car.

He keeps me flush against him with his hands on my hips as the guards clear our way. It takes a few minutes to get from where we were to the vehicle, but with Chris behind me, it’s not so bad.

The door shuts behind him and I wrap my arms around him, “How long are you in for?”

“I’m here until Sunday,” he says easily pulling me into a hug.

Letting go, I push him to arm’s length, “That’s five nights.”

“Yea,” he chuckles. “I was hoping that your case would be done by then. I want to take you back to Paris with me. Have you seen Paris is the fall?”

Thinking about it a second, I shake my head, “No, I’ve been there in the winter and once for a day in the spring.”

“Paris is at its best in the fall,” he tells me as he sits back against the seat. “You’ll love it.”

He’s probably right. He’s always right when he says ‘you’ll love it’. It surprises me every time it happens. I should really get used to that.

A few minutes pass where we sit in a comfortable silence.

“You know what sounds great?” he asks me out of nowhere.

Arching a brow, I turn toward him, “What’s that?”

“Getting into our pajamas, ordering Chinese food, getting our extra blankets, and snuggling in for the night.”

Smiling, I nod, “Sounds perfect.”

And that’s just what we do. After the ride home, we go straight up and get into our pajama bottoms. I call for food; he grabs the blankets and picks out the first movie.

It isn’t until the movie is almost over and the Chinese food long past eaten that I voice what I’ve been thinking all night, “What if I lose this case?”

He lifts his head from my chest to look at me, “You won’t.”

“How do you know? They could find me guilty then I would have to go back to England.”

He adjusts so that he’s sitting cross-legged facing me, “Are you really worried?”

“Well yea,” I nod slightly and look down at my hands in my lap. “I don’t want to leave. I like it here.” Then taking a deep breath, I take one of his hands into mine, “And I love you. It would be a shame if I had to live in a separate country, yea?”

At that, he laughs. I’m not talking about a little chuckle or something you can try to hide under a cough; I’m talking a right bellow of laughter. So much so, that he almost falls over.

“What in the hell are you laughing at?” If it were anyone else, I would probably be a bit angry, but with the look on Topher’s face, I can’t help the smirk that laces my lips.

Once he calms (and wipes his eyes), he looks at me with that stupid smirk. And then he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “If you’re moving back to England, I may as well start practicing my British accent. I’m not going to let you move anywhere without me.”

This shouldn’t surprise me, but it does.

“Are you sure?” I ask arching an eyebrow.

Shaking his head, he moves to get comfortable again. He cuddles in, lying his head on my chest, “Yea, I’m sure. When did you get so insecure?”

“Since I met you,” I answer not even thinking about it.

“Are you drunk tonight?” he moves so that his head is in my lap and he’s looking up at me. “I’m pretty sure it’s against your parole to be intoxicated.”

Rolling my eyes, I let my hand glide through his hair, “I’m not drunk.”

“The day we met, you were the most confident person I’d ever seen.”

I let myself chuckle as I pull at his strands a little, “Then I’m a better actor than I thought. I was terrified that day.”

“That’s not even possible. Do you even remember that day?”

“I do.”

~~~~~

I’m so tired that I could fall asleep against this wall that I’ve been leaning on. I got a call back to do this compatibility screening for a movie called ‘Save the Day’. Apparently it’s about superheroes or something, my agent said it’s going to be the next big thing. I auditioned for one of the bad guys called Dark Soldier. Instead, I got called back for one for the leads – which is mind-blowing in itself. Either way, all night, I was so nervous that I couldn’t sleep.

So now, I’m in the back of the boring room standing against the wall, sipping this unpleasant free coffee, and pretending to look over the lines.

A door opens, but I don’t look up because it happens so often in this small room that I’d constantly be watching. This place was full a couple hours ago, but now there are just a few people left. Everyone keeps moving in and out of the room and it’s a little unsettling. So I just keep my head down and mind my own business. It’s only when I feel a presence next to me that I lift my graze. And as soon as I see who that presence is, I’m wide awake.

My manager, Johnny, told me that the other lead in this was quite well known, but he didn’t tell me who it was. To be honest, I didn’t want to psych myself out for it, so I didn’t ask. As I stand here, trying to act as normal as possible, I’m mentally kicking myself for not being prepared for this. It could have been anyone, but it had to be the one guy I’ve idealized since childhood.

When I realize I’m still staring, I avert my graze back down to the paper in my hands. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him pick up the coffee pot from the table next to me and pour himself a cup. He sets his cup on the table before trying to replace the pot. Only, when he brings his hand back, he knocks his cup off the table.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself grabbing a few napkins to clean it up.

Luckily it was only tile flooring and not something more difficult to wipe up.

“Here, let me help you,” I chuckle as I put my stuff down on the table to assist him in cleaning his mess.

At this point he’s just pushing a tiny puddle around with his already soaked paper. He huffs lightly, “I should be used to this kind of stuff. And that was the last cup.”

“Don’t worry, mate, the coffee’s shit anyway,” I tell him as we get the last few drops cleaned.

We stand at the same time, but when he finally looks at me, he has a smirk on his face. It’s the same smirk that I’ve seen in all his movies and dozens of pictures. I’ve seen it online and in magazines, but seeing it in real life is something else entirely.

It’s surreal; like somehow I’ve slipped into a dream and this ultra-famous, mega-talented, man is smirking at me.

“That’s quite an accent you got there,” he offers his hand keeping the half smile in place. “Topher Ashton.”

“Yea, I think I’ve seen you before,” I smile as I take his hand. “Damon Jacobs.”

“Jacobs?” he says it like a question and raises a brow as we let go of each other. “You’re the last person we’re screening today. You’re up next.”

“Lovely,” I nod, “I’ve been here for ages.”

“Ages, huh?” he asks a little amused.

Shrugging, I try to come off as nonchalant as possible, “I’ve lost track.”

He lets out a burst of laughter, but then looks caught off guard that he did. He shakes his head and smiles again, “Let me see if I can’t get you out of here before your next birthday.”

“Much appreciated,” I tell him as he walks toward one of the doors.

He turns to me before he walks through it, “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll send someone out to get you.”

I nod, but refrain from saying anything. And it doesn’t seem to bother him because he just turns and walks in, closing the door behind him. As soon as he’s behind the barrier, I let out a huge sigh and run my hands through my hair. I’m pretty sure this is how people get heart conditions; trying to contain so many emotions while acting like nothing’s bothering them. I need a nap.

True to his word, a few minutes later the door opens. But instead of someone else like he said, Topher’s standing in the doorway, “You ready?”

Chuckling, I nod and grab my script throwing away the cup that I’d already emptied, “I thought you were going to send someone for me?”

“I needed the exercise,” he shrugs and gestures into the room.

Chuckling, I walk in before him, “I hope those 15 steps didn’t wear you out.”

He laughs too and point to a chair in the front of the room, “You can sit there, smartass.” He stops at a video camera that looks like someone owns it personally. “While I set this up, why don’t you tell us how you’ve been?”

“Since I saw you five minutes ago?” I question him, but don’t give him time before I fake a thinking-face. I shrug before leaning back against the chair and crossing my left foot over my other knee, “Grew about four inches and had to shave my beard, but other than that, been great,”

He shakes his head with that smirk still in place. “Alright, I’m ready,” he says to no one in particular before sitting in a chair across from me. “Can you tell us your name and where you’re from?”

Sitting up straight, I try my best not to look nervous. And even though there are five other people in the room, it’s easy just to focus on Topher, “Name’s Damon Jacobs. I live in New York, but I’m originally from right outside of London.” And then for good measure, I put on a cheeky smile and add, “England.”

Topher rolls his eyes, but seemed to be enjoying our banter, “And what makes you a fit for this part?”

And that’s where I’m stumped. So, I decide to be honest, “Did you know I didn’t audition for this part? I auditioned for a lesser part and apparently someone thought that I would be better here. I’m not particularly complaining, but the truth of the matter is, I don’t know.”

It’s quiet for a second, but then Topher laughs and everyone in the room echoes.

The star in the room turns his body to face the other members, “Who picked him from the other part to come here?”

A short stocky guy that I remember from the audition raises his hand and nods, but otherwise says quiet.

“Can we ask him?” I suggest. If anyone knows, it would be him. “Can we ask him what makes me good for this part? I’m dying to know.”

Topher shrugs, pouts out a lip as if to say ‘why not’ and turns to the small man, “Why does Damon fit this part, James?”

“Well,” James scratches the back of his balding head before gesturing towards me with his entire arm, “he has the look that I wanted. And when we did his little interview beforehand he was funny and sarcastic and I thought that you would get a kick out of him.” He shrugs toward Topher, “He was an eye catcher and I didn’t think I wanted that for Dark, but it was exactly what I needed for this.”

“There you have it,” I point to him with my eyebrows raised. “Can I steal his answer?”

The actor in front of me laughs again before nodding, “Sure. I think it’s time to do the read through. Are you ready?”

“As ever.”

The read-through goes really well; better than I anticipated. It’s just like I was practicing with my best friend Mars. We stop and laugh when one of us messes up. Sometimes I overact just to get a laugh and it works. And at some point, he moves his chair so that we’re sitting next to each other and reading to the crew rather than to each other. It’s so much fun. And the strangest part of all of it is that I feel like I’ve known Topher my entire life. It’s like we grew up together and just having a laugh instead of me auditioning for a movie.

No sooner do we get done reading – which is actually just us deciding to stop playing with the script – that he gets up, moves everyone into a huddle (excluding me) and starts whispering. Here’s where I come up with all the negative thoughts that my mind can conjure in about thirty seconds. Because thirty seconds is all it takes for their little huddle.

Topher breaks away and comes over to stand in front of me. And since I’m sitting and he’s taller than me to being with, I feel a bit towered over. Then he offers me his hand; which I take.

He takes a step back and allows me to stand before shaking and saying, “It’s not official because I guess we have to go through some approved channel, but the part is yours.”

I can feel my mouth drop, but I don’t do anything to contain it. Once I blink a few times and realize that I’ve been shaking his hand for entirely too long to be comfortable, I do something even more awkward. I drop him hand and wrap my arms around his body in a hug.

And to my surprise, he hugs me back.

After a second I pull back and hold him at arm’s length, “Are you serious?”

“Expect a call from your agent or whatever tomorrow,” his famous smirk appears again and I’m pretty sure I’m about to wake up at any second.

~~~~~

“You were the most confident person I had ever seen,” my husband starts to play with the fingers on my hand that’s not playing with his hair. Then his smirk that I love so much appears again when he looks up at me, “You know I made that coffee you said was ‘shit’.”

This makes me laugh. Looking down, I shake my head, “Now, that’s not possible. You make the best coffee.”

“I went home that night and just made pot after pot to get it right,” he chuckles and covers his face with his hand. “That’s so embarrassing.”

I feel my jaw drop, but there’s clearly still a smile on my face, “You didn’t.”

“I did,” he admits taking his hands away to play with mine again. “I’m serious when I say that I knew I wanted you around as soon as we met. If that meant stepping up my coffee game, I was alright with that.”

Breaking my hand away for a second, I use it to lift his chin so that’s he’s looking at me. Leaning down I use the hand in his hair to pull him the rest of the way as I close our lips together. It’s the most simple, but perfect kiss I’ve ever experienced. Just like our marriage.

~A/N~

I'm posting early!! And for two reason....

1. I have 1300 fans today! ...like just now...

2. I was wondering if you think I should enter this into the Watty Awards. It would mean that I would have to finish it by the middle of next week and you guys would have to vote and comment your little asses off. I'm going to leave this up tp you guys because I've been asked a few times already and I don't know what to say.

3. I love you guys.

And 4. My mother in law got GREAT news!!!

It's been a great week and you guys make me smile!