Page 79 of Total Creative Control
Heat flooded his face. He swallowed. “I think you can do anything you put your mind to,” he said honestly. “Like you say, you’re already doing that job, and I’m sorry if I didn’t make it clear how much I appreciate your work. The fact is, I don’t care what your job title is. It’s not about that for me. I just want the best people working onLeeches. If you want me to get your role formally reassessed, I’ll do that, no question. I can tell you now that you’re already paid more than some of the junior editors because Toni and I insisted to the board that your salary should reflect the work you do, but I can ask RPP to look at your package again and—”
“I wasn’t asking for—” Aaron began, then broke off with another frustrated sigh. “It’s not about that.”
“Then what is it about?” Lewis begged. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. You know I will.” He searched Aaron’s face, hoping to find some sign that Aaron could be persuaded, but there was nothing. He just looked tired and sad. Defeated, somehow, even though he should surely feel like the victor here because Lewis was the one pleading for a second chance.
Aaron rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s about everything I said in that meeting. Skye and Faolán. Their relationship. The show. Those thingsmeansomething to me. I don’t want to be part of destroying the thing I love.”
Lewis stared at him. Of all the things Aaron had said, that onehurtbecause no one loved the show more than Lewis did. And he resented the accusation that he was about to destroy it. Angry now, he closed the distance between them in two short strides and grabbed Aaron’s arm, yanking him closer. “Why are you being so goddamned dramatic about this? This isn’t you. You don’t do shit like this.”
Aaron glared and shook him off. “Thisisme. You’ve always known how much I love the show. Well, newsflash: I love it way more than I ever let on. I loveSkylán”—his eyes flashed when he used the ship name—“and I write whole fuckingnovelsabout them falling gloriously in love and having sex with each other in a million different ways and getting all sorts of happy-ever-afters together. And you know what? That’simportantto me. I can’t even imagine my life without it.”
“Well, that’s all fine and dandy,” Lewis snapped, “but fanfic won’t pay the rent, no matter how many ‘awards’ you win. I don’t get why you’d throw your career away over a fucking hobby.”
The flash of pain in Aaron’s eyes at that dig made him feel like a shit.
“I’m not throwing my career away,” Aaron said. “I’m going to apply for the script development role for Toni’s new pilot. Apparently, she thinks I can do it.”
“Of course you can do it,” Lewis repeated contemptuously. “You could do it with one hand tied behind your back. But it’s a few months’ work at most. Then what?”
Aaron shrugged. “It’ll be good experience and tide me over while I apply for something more permanent.”
Lewis’s heart was hammering now with mingled fear and anger. Aaron was serious about this.
“So that’s really what you want?” Lewis said in disbelief. “To leave a successful show you’ve worked on for three years—a showyoulove—to work on a pilot that might never get greenlit?”
Aaron nodded tightly. “Whatever you think of my contribution, to everyone else I’m just Lewis’s PA. I’m the guy who can get them a meeting, or a call, or a response to an email. You saw how Charlie treated me this weekend. If I want to take my career in this direction, I need to start building up my CV with credible experience.”
Lewis took a deep breath, willing himself to be calm, even as the panic built. “Okay, I get that, and like I said, I can have your role reassessed and—”
“Lewis,” Aaron interrupted. He paused, blinking hard, and now his grey eyes had a betraying shine to them. “I’m saying it’s time I moved on. Don’t get me wrong. It’s been a pretty great three years. I’ve enjoyed working with you a lot. And I’ve learned loads, but—”
“Don’t do this,” Lewis whispered. “Please. Aaron.”
But Aaron kept going, as though he hadn’t spoken. “—but I can’t work for you anymore. I’ve not been focusing enough on my own career goals, and it’s past time I did.”
For several long moments, they just stood there, looking at each other. Lewis felt weirdly numb. Gradually though, the knowledge settled into his bones.
He’d been left. And even though nothing had changed yet, it was over. He could see that Aaron had made the break in his own mind, and there was nothing Lewis could do to change his decision.
All the fears that had risen in him this morning when he’d first woken up had come to pass. Last night, he’d finally and irrevocably crossed the invisible line, and now, just as he’d always feared, he’d lost Aaron.
His chest ached with a pain he couldn’t name. Slowly, he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is,” Aaron said, not meeting his eyes.
“Do you want me to speak to Toni? About the pilot role?”
Aaron shook his head. “I can deal with it. Thanks.”
The note of dismissal in that last word was clear, so Lewis took the hint.
Turning abruptly, he yanked open the door and stalked out. No looking back. What would have been the point? Aaron had been crystal clear: their partnership was finished.
And Lewis had no intention of hanging about to watch it die.
Chapter Twenty
Aaron