Page 78 of Total Creative Control
“Aaron, listen—”
“No,youlisten. Are you seriously telling me thisisn’tabout you freaking out because we had sex last night?”
The sudden rush of heat to Lewis’s face honestly surprised him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed. “If you’re asking whether I regret what we did last night, then yes, of course. It was a mistake, and I’ve already apologised for that.” The flash of hurt in Aaron’s eyes at those words made Lewis’s stomach twist, but he forced himself to go on. “But that doesn’t mean Iblameyou for what happened—I thought I was really clear about that. Was I freaked out this morning? Yes, okay. Iwasfreaked out. Was I worried about our future working relationship? Yes, of course! But then, on top of all that, we go into a meeting—thismeeting of all the meetings it could have been—and you choose that moment to land this on me.” He shook his head, genuinely bewildered. “Areyouseriously telling me you can’t see why this would be an issue?”
Aaron met his gaze, and for several long beats, the silence between them stretched.
Then Aaron said, “I can see why it’s an issue foryou. You hate fanfic. Hell, sometimes I think you hate thefans. But an issue for the show? For Telopix? No, I don’t see that at all.”
“I don’t hate the fans!” Lewis protested.
“No? But you don’t like it when they get too possessive, do you? You don’t likeanyonemessing with your perfect, singular vision ofLeechesthat no one can ever argue with.”
The unfairness of that took Lewis’s breath away. He didn’t tolerate much dissent, that was true, but he had tolerated it—hell, welcomed it—from Aaron.
“You’ve argued with my scripts plenty of times, and youknowI’ve made changes based on your comments. For fuck’s sake, Faolán’s whole character is—” He broke off, staring at Aaron, his chest heaving.
You.Faolán is you.
It felt like the words were physically there, reverberating in the silence between them, even though he hadn’t said them aloud. Could Aaron feel it too?
In the end, it was Aaron who broke the heavy silence, saying, almost irritably, “I’m sorry, okay? That was unfair. You do listen to me.”
He walked over to the bed and sank down with a weary sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. After a moment, he said in a lifeless voice, “So, who came up with the third character idea? Was it Toni?”
“Yeah,” Lewis admitted. After a pause he added, “We can make it work, Aaron. The third character will just beFaolán with a new name—that relationship will still be the heart of the show. The new Faolán-love-interest will be theactualnew character. But we’ll make sure he’s awesome too. It’ll be another layer.”
Shit, why did he suddenly feel like he was pleading?
“Don’t you think Charlie might notice?” Aaron asked flatly.
“Nah. He talks a good game, but Toni and I reckon all his knowledge comes from audience research. I doubt he’s watched more than one or two episodes, if that. So long as he thinks he’s got his way, he’ll be happy.”
Aaron, who was staring at the ground, nodded, though Lewis had the feeling it wasn’t in response to what he’d just said, but perhaps to some other unspoken question. At last, he looked up and said simply. “You’re right. You’re a great writer, and you can make it work. Youwillmake it work.”
“Hey, it’s not all down to me,” Lewis said, smiling weakly. “We’re a team. We’ll all play a part in making it work, right?”
Aaron didn’t smile back. Instead, he levered himself to his feet and met Lewis’s gaze. “Not this time, Lewis.”
“Not this—What? What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’m not going to be part of the team anymore,” Aaron said. “I think it’s time I moved on.”
What the fuck?
A bolt of pure panic went through Lewis, and it was all he could do not to grab hold of Aaron and tell him that if he thought he was moving anywhere, he was very much mistaken. Instead, he held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. Distantly, he noticed they were shaking.
“Okay, wait, just… just listen, okay?” His voice sounded amazingly calm, but inside he was in pieces, emergency lights flashing and sirens wailing as he realised that, just as he’d feared this morning, Aaron was going to leave over this.
And Lewis couldn’t have that. He justcouldn’t.
“I shouldn’t have said that about firing you,” he said quickly, meeting Aaron’s calm, grey gaze. “I was just—angry. A lot of shit has happened in the last couple of days, and I get that it’s been a mindfuck for you—it has for me too—but let’s not be hasty and throw away something amazing because we’re freaking out here. We’re ateam, Aaron. Like I said this morning, I’ve never worked with someone who gets me better than you do, who gets the show, the characters, hell,everything.” He took a step towards Aaron and had to check his own instinct to reach for him. “You make everything work so much better, you know? You sharpen every line you edit and improve every scene you cast your eye over. I don’t trust anyone else’s gut the way I trust yours.”
It was the kind of thing that usually had Aaron flushing with pleased embarrassment, but not today. Today, he gave a bark of unamused laughter. “So, what you’re saying is that I’ve basically been acting as an uncredited development editor on the show, is that right?”
Lewis blinked at that unexpected comment. “Um—I suppose so.” Then, belatedly, understanding dawned. “Wait, are you—Is that what you want? It’s just that when those roles have come up, you’ve never gone for any of them, so I assumed…” He trailed off. The truth was, he hadn’t assumed anything. He’d been too busy being relieved that Aaron seemed to be happy to stay as his PA.
“You assumed what?” Aaron said, looking up. “That I wouldn’t be able to land a job that I apparently already do for you—while simultaneously acting as your PA? Because I definitely don’t recall you encouraging me to apply.” His expression was deceptively neutral, his voice calm, but the words sliced into Lewis like barbs.