Landon stepped out of the bathroom, gave his hair a haphazard rub, slung the towel over his shoulder, and sank into the wide sofa in the living room.
He brooded over Cameron's "give me two days" and marveled at the gulf in fame and fortune between them.
If they started dating, how would the world react? What would the headlines say?
'Up-and-coming actor climbing the social ladder,' 'Cameron Diaz's mysterious boy-toy'—the titles wrote themselves.
He couldn't really become some kept man, could he?
He believed that once the fast and the furious hit theaters, his name would rocket into the solid B-list and, with the franchise's momentum, even brush the edge of A-list.
But the problem was time.
The release was still more than a year away; distant water wouldn't quench present thirst.
What could he do in the meantime to close this maddening gap?
He raked his half-dry hair in frustration, and his thoughts began to scatter.
Buy stocks? The classic shortcut to wealth. The idea died the instant it surfaced.
It was the year 2000; the tech bubble was bloated and about to burst back to reality.
Recovery would take at least two or three years.
Wait—short the overhyped tech companies or indices!
The thought electrified him, then cooled just as fast.
Shorting was high-risk, complicated, and he'd never done it; he didn't know the first thing.
Maybe find a professional adviser or a reliable brokerage?
Another avenue surfaced naturally: content creation. Write a breakout script, shoot a low-cost, high-return film?
Something like The Blair Witch Project or Reservoir Dogs.
He did have a head full of future blockbusters.
But cold logic said that was equally unrealistic.
A nobody's script would need incalculable time and luck to impress a studio or indie producer.
Even with money, assembling a crew, shooting, post, distribution, and scheduling stretched interminably.
A micro-budget film might shoot fast, but it could still be a year before it reached audiences.
That wouldn't solve today's urgency either.
Still, he reminded himself, it was a crucial long-term path he had to start preparing now.
What else? Commercials? That was what he was doing.
The Delmont spot seemed to be working—wait, Tracy had mentioned more concrete feedback today?
Landon leaned back, stared at the ceiling, and sighed silently.
From start to finish his mind had spun around 'how to succeed fast, how to earn fast'—never once did the idea of turning Cameron down appear.
What a good guy!
Scumbag!
'Honey! What are you brooding about? You look so serious!'
A soft voice cut through his tangled thoughts.
Before he could react, a warm, fragrant body, fresh from the shower, slid sideways onto his lap.
Tracy, wearing only one of his oversized white shirts, long bare legs folded beneath her, damp blonde hair spilling over her shoulders.
She looped her arms around his neck and planted a loud kiss on his cheek.
Landon's arm circled her waist while his other hand instinctively traced the generous curve beneath the shirt.
The warm, real feel snapped him back from ambition.
Looking at this playful, kittenish Tracy—so unlike the sharp, efficient super-Agent in his mind—Landon almost laughed. She rarely called him 'Honey.'
Honey… wait.
'Honey'—that was a song, and a massive hit.
A song! Why hadn't he thought of it sooner?
This was America, one of the biggest music markets on earth!
A successful EP or single could sell millions of copies.
Music could spread and explode even faster than film.
One hit track could catapult an unknown singer to the forefront of pop culture, with huge royalties and crossover deals.
Besides, who was he? The undisputed karaoke king, fluent in every genre.
More importantly, he'd had solid vocal training since childhood.
Pitch, rhythm, technique, and a good voice—he had the basics; he'd just never aimed for a singing career.
The idea shot adrenaline through him.
He looked at Tracy in his arms; her pretty blue eyes stared back in confusion.
Unable to contain himself, Landon cupped her face and kissed her deeply.
Startled, Tracy quickly wound her arms tighter around his neck and kissed him back with equal fervor.
She could feel his almost giddy excitement, and it infected her.
But when his hands grew bolder and his kiss more demanding, Tracy's last rational alarm blared.
She gently pushed him back, breathless, cheeks flushed. 'Hey… wait, Landon… not now.'
His eyes burned into hers.
Tracy pressed a hand to his chest, trying to create safe distance. 'It's Saturday; I don't want to waste the whole day in bed.'
Another lazy voice drifted from the bedroom. 'Wow, steamy already? Tracy, someone's energy is definitely restored.'
Rachel shuffled out in comfy loungewear, rubbing her eyes, and grinned wickedly at the tangle on the sofa.
Tracy jumped off Landon's lap as if burned, cheeks redder, and glared in mock anger. 'Mind your own business! Go make food—I'm starving!'
Rachel squeezed between them, heading for the open kitchen. 'Yes, Your Majesty. Looks like someone needs to refuel.'
The two women slipped into playful bickering, filling the living room with light laughter.
Watching them, Landon felt his anxiety ease.
After breakfast Tracy disappeared into the study and returned with a few folders.
'Business time.' She handed him the first file, smiling.
'The market feedback from Delmont is in—preliminary numbers are staggering.
Sales of the canned meat you endorsed more than doubled after the campaign, lifting Delmont's entire product line.'
Landon scanned the charts; the growth curve shot almost straight up.
He'd expected the ad to do well, but doubling sales still blew past his projections.