Fern was the original movie buff.  This girl could name studios, years of release and practically every principal role, behind the camera as well as in front, of every film she had ever seen.  She introduced Deb to a whole new world she had never really known existed, the world of the movie fan.  Deb had a void to fill, and suddenly the thing she had shunned all of her life had become so very important to her.  She devoured films at a rate of two or three in a sitting.  She rented everything Fern recommended and then adventured into the rest on her own.

She loved it all.  From moving dramas to horrifically bad “B” slasher flicks.  From witty romantic comedy to bawdy Monty Python.  And along the way she fell in and out of love with dozens of male actors.  Then one long weekend, Fern decided it was high time Deb meet who Fern thought was the greatest actor living and scheduled a movie marathon of Russell Crowe films.  Fern had managed to get them all, through video stores, the internet and sheer force of will.  She played them in the order he had made them and by the time they got to “Virtuosity”, Deb was sold.  When they got to “Gladiator”, her heart decided it would never belong to another.

When Fern put “Proof of Life” in the DVD player, Deb picked up the case and stared at it for a long time.  Watching the film was more than entertainment, it was cathartic.  It helped heal the wound in her heart just a little more, giving her another thing to think about when she heard those words, “Proof of Life”.

~*~

Russell and Ben were leaning against the window watching Deb work.  She had recovered nicely, right after the song drifted off into silence and her producer banged on a second window to the left of the production desk Deb was seated at.

Without missing a beat, or taking her eyes off Russell, she flipped one switch and with a smirk raising one corner of her mouth, she said, “That moment of silence was brought to you by the Marcel Marceau Anti-Defamation League.  And now, my nighttime peeps, I have a treat for you.  A three-fer, I know you’ll dig it, here’s R.O. as you know him through me.”  She flipped two more switches and soon track ten, “Kill Love” was playing over the speakers, the track before “Snowdrop”.

She smiled wider and said, “Mr Crowe.”

Russell grinned.  “You probably don’t remember, but I saw you at that bar in Florida.  You were really good.  When I heard you on the radio tonight thanks to Ben here, I wanted to stop in and let you know how much I had enjoyed your performance that night and that I was sorry we couldn’t have stayed longer.”

Russell was watching her intently.  Her eyes got a far-off look in them, trying to remember it.  Then suddenly they cleared and she was looking at him again, this time her gaze was tinged with a little sorrow.

“The Aussie I bumped into.  That was you.”  Not a question, just a statement like she was laying out the facts for perusal.

Russell nodded. Deb took a deep breath and sighed.  “That was a good night.  I do remember it.  We had a lot of fun.  And, thank you!  I do appreciate the compliment.  Those days were very satisfying.”

“Well, thank you.  Thanks to you, I discovered a whole new spectrum of music and learned to appreciate it.”

Deb starting laughing.  Russell looked a little nonplussed.  “I’m sorry, but I have to say it.  What the hell are you doing here?  You’re like Mr Hollywood Movie Guy and I’m little Orange County DJ Girl.  I think you can understand that I’m just a tad freaked here.”

Russell laughed along with her, seeing the bizarre nature of the situation.  “Well, for now, let’s hang up the ‘Hollywood Movie Guy’ and just be two music lovers, deal?”

Deb reached her hand over the console and Russell shook it.  “Deal,’ she said, smiling.

Ben cleared his throat just then, and Russell looked in his direction, realizing that everyone in the room save him had responsibilities and obligations to fill.  He made another quick decision.

“Okay, so look, I know ya have a shift here and Ben needs to get me back to my hotel, so – “

“Yeah, ‘kay, I guess you have to –“

“– can I arrange to have a car pick you up tomorrow and we could have lunch?”

“– go.  What?” Deb spluttered.

“Lunch, luv.  Tomorrow.  Me and you.”

“’Kay.” Deb ’s mind whirled around what had just occurred and the confusion must have been readily apparent given Russell’s response.

“All synapses firing there okay, mate?”

Deb laughed.  “Yeah.”  She paused and gathered herself together.  Cleared her throat.  “Yes, Mr Crowe, I’d love to have lunch with you tomorrow.  But a car isn’t necessary, just tell me where you’d like to meet.”

“Oh, no, luv, I know this area.  You’re gettin’ a car.”  Russell turned to Ben, “You got her address, mate?”

Ben was grinning at Deb from ear to ear.  “Yes, Mr Crowe, I do.  In fact, I’ll be happy to drive her.”

“Great, about one, my hotel?”

“Can do.”

“Uh, do I get a say at some point?”

“Sure, luv.  What would ya like to say?”

Deb took one look into those sea coloured eyes, coughed, then said, “Oh, nothing, I seem to have lost the power of coherent thought, anyway.”

Russell chuckled at her, went around to where she was sitting and, placing his hand on the back of her neck to tilt her face towards his, kissed her on her cheek.  “’Til tomorrow, then, luv.”  He knew he was being wicked, but couldn’t help himself.  He really was looking forward to a friendly lunch to discuss music, but also appreciated that she was one of his many female fans who was mature and intelligent.  He grew impatient with the rabid fans who wanted nothing more than a piece of him with no regard for him personally.  But this type of fan he truly enjoyed, knew there were a substantial number of them and secretly thought of them as “his sheilas”.

He walked out of the studio behind Ben, waving at her through the glass.

As he fell asleep that night, the feel of her beautiful, soft, black hair in his hand and the sweet, clean smell of her perfume chased him through his dreams.  The way her eyes had gotten wide when he had approached her, the slight gasp when he had kissed her cheek and the lop-sided grin that had adorned her face almost the whole time he had spent in the studio, all these details magnified themselves into his subconscious and he dreamed.

They were alone in her studio.  She had just begun playing “Snowdrop”, grinning at him as he walked over to her.  He pulled her up to him and claimed her mouth roughly, kissing her thoroughly.  She trembled against him and he had to hold her to him to keep her from sliding to the floor.  They suddenly felt their need rising and struggled out of their clothes, intent on exposing and then touching as much skin as possible.  Russell pulled her to the floor and pushed her legs open with his knee.  Vaguely, he felt like there was something he was forgetting, but he also felt this wasn’t real, you’re dreaming, mate, and just went with the action.  He could hear Deb breathing heavily in his ear and as he entered her roughly, received a shocked gasp from her.  They moved passionately, together creating a rhythm they both relished.  He felt his climax rushing into his cock, held prisoner inside her constricting center, made tighter as she crested over into her orgasm which made him begin spurting into her, condom, mate, that’s what you forgot, but he couldn’t stop…

…and woke up, ruefully aware that he had just had an extremely wet dream.

“Ah, fuck, what’s housekeeping gonna think?” he asked the empty room.  The sun was peering in through the curtains and he reached blindly for his watch on the bedside table.  Nine a.m.  He crawled out of bed and headed for the shower.  He was distantly concerned about his lack of control over his body.  He must have been thinking about Debra on a much more subconscious level than he realized.

He spent the morning with his “people”, going over his calendar, but at one o’clock as he heard a knock on the door, he dismissed everyone.  Mark reminded him that he had a seven o’clock dinner meeting that evening.  Russell nodded distractedly at him as he watched Debra peer around the door tentatively.

“Hey, luv, ya made it!”  Russell laughed as Mark did a double take.

“They told me to come right in.  Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah, don’t mind him, he didn’t know I’d found ya.  Mate, your jaw’s on the floor, pick it up.”

Mark smiled at Debra and then gave Russell a dirty look.  “Why didn’t ya tell me?”

“Ah, mate, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, just a joke.”

“Yeah, funny.  I suppose you’ve already ordered lunch?”

“Yeah, had Maggie downstairs do it, she’s a gem.”

“Then I guess I’ll leave ya to it.  Nice seein’ ya again, Debra.  I really enjoyed what little we saw of your show that night.  Don’t let His Nibs there get ya into trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, gerron with ya already.”

Debra had watched the entire exchange with wide-eyes, looking like she didn’t know what to do except smile and mumble her thanks to Mark as he closed the door behind him.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a bit nervous.”

“What do you mean?” Debra still stood near the door, clutching her purse.

“I mean you were so sure of yourself last night.  And now you’re lookin’ like a ‘roo caught in the headlamps.”

“Well, you were on my turf last night.  This is yours.”

Russell smiled.  “Yeah.  Makes sense, luv.  Come on in, make yourself comfortable.  Lunch should be on its way –”

A knock at the door and it broke the ice nicely because they both giggled.

“Timing!” Debra called out as Russell went to the door to retrieve their lunch and she sat down on the couch.

Russell let the waiter wheel in the tray and place it near the couch where they would be eating.

After signing for the meal, tipping and showing the waiter out the door, Russell looked back at Debra and asked, “What did you say?”

“’Timing’.  My bud Fern and I always yell it out when something perfect happens in a movie and it’s not contrived.”

“What do you yell when it is contrived?”

“’Waster’, and we throw popcorn at the screen.  But only at home.  We’re well-behaved theatre patrons.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Russell played host, portioning out salad, sandwiches and a beer for each of them.  He gave Debra her plate and then settled into a chair across from where she was sitting cross-legged on the couch, looking adorable in a simple green rugby shirt and jeans.  They both ate for a few minutes, Russell noting how she left the fork and picked at the salad with her fingers as well as the way she ripped off bites of the sandwich before popping them into her mouth.  The whole scene felt a bit erotic and he shook himself mentally back into the conversation they should be having.

He said, “So tell me everything.  Start from the first song you ever heard and stop when I walked into the studio last night.”

“I don’t think we have that kind of time,” Debra laughed her reply.

“Don’t concern yourself about that.  I wanna hear it all.”

He listened intently as she spoke.  He could tell she skipped a lot, concentrating on what she thought he wanted to hear, about the music in her life.  The artists who had influenced her, discovering her alto in the church choir, living next door to Dave and his encouragement to start a band, the hellish joy of each gig.  She only spoke briefly about losing Dave and then ended with moving to Southern California and rooming with Fern, getting the gig at the radio station and how much she loved the freedom of the overnight shift.

They had finished their lunch, but Russell was still in the mood to talk.  He asked her about the artists she had mentioned and they went off for an hour extolling the virtues of Jim Morrison, The Dead, The Beatles, the Kinks, Talking Heads and of course, Roland Orzabal, her absolute favourite.  When she shyly mentioned that she loved TOFOG’s Bastard Life or Clarity he giggled and told her about the recording sessions and putting the whole thing together.  That, of course, led to another hour of telling her about the tours and how bizarre that whole experience can be.

“Touring was a blast, though, don’t get me wrong.  I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Debra just laughed and for the first time the conversation lagged a little.  Russell covered it up by gathering the plates and moving the tray over to the door.  When he turned back to start up again, he was surprised to find she stepped over to the large bay window behind the couch she had been sitting on.  But he was even more surprised to see her swiftly brush at a tear that had escaped down her cheek.

“Debra?”

She turned to him, smiling rather too brightly and said, “Well, that certainly was a lovely lunch Mr Crowe, I mean Russell, sorry.  I know you’re extremely busy and it was super-bitchin-cool of you to spend so much time with me –”

“What are ya doing?”

“Um, making a gracious exit?”

“Why?”

“Cuz lunch is over?”

“So?”

She cocked her head to one side prettily and asked, “Why do I feel like I should be in a small room and you should have a rubber hose or two?”

Russell laughed.  “Luv, I’m just trying to figure out how you did a one-eighty just now and why you think it’s time for you to go?  Don’t ya like spending time with me?”

“Don’t like…Are you high?  Sorry, that was rude, I mean, of course I do.  But you’re Mr-Hollywood-Movie-Guy and –”

“You’re little OC DJ girl, did I get it right?”

Debra smiled and nodded.

“Well, OC DJ girl, it just so happens that lunch is not over.  Would you say no to some ice cream?”

“I have never said no to ice cream in my life.”

“Good.”  Russell went over to the phone and ordered up two ice cream sundaes.  When he hung up the phone he found that look on her face again for a split second before she settled back into a smile.

“Say, Russell, I’ve always wanted to know, when you’re up on the stage and the audience is screaming, can you hear anything they scream at you?”

“Nah, luv, it’s just noise, but I have read a sign or two.  Now those’re funny.  There’s always at least one asking to have my baby.”  He giggled at the memory and Debra joined him.

He walked up to her and took one of her hands in his.  He looked into her big brown eyes drinking in how beautiful they were.  In a low voice, he said, “But what I want to know, is what is goin’ on behind that beautiful smile of yours?”  He held her gaze, even though he could tell she wanted to be looking anywhere but into his eyes.  “Come on, luv, ya know you can’t keep it to yourself.  You’ve been wistful since you mentioned his name.  Now give, tell me about him.”

“You don’t –”

“Yeah, I do.”

Debra dropped her eyes to where his hand was engulfing hers, watched as he gently rubbed the backs of her fingers with the other.  When she spoke her voice was so soft that Russell had to strain to hear her.

“Dave was such a wonderful guy.  But what it is, see, what it is, is that we shoulda had all of that, we should have made a go of it and been up there, y’know?”

She looked up at him with the question in her eyes.  He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face then drew the back of his hand down her cheek, following the line of her jaw with his forefinger, tilting her chin up further and kissed her softly on her lips.

The knock on the door made her jump and she stepped away from him, suddenly nervous.  But Russell still had her hand in his.  He smiled at her and said, “Timing.”

She let out a shaky breath and a small laugh as he let her hand go and went to the door.  Out of the corner of his eye, Russell watched her push aside her emotions again and put the tough little smart-ass back in place whom he had come to quite like over the course of the afternoon.  But his curiosity was getting the better of him and that kiss had only fueled the remnants of his early morning activity.  He had seen two glimpses now of the girl behind the girl and he wanted to know her also.

They made themselves comfortable again, scooping up bites of ice cream, Russell smiling to himself as he had now found a food for which she had to use a utensil.  They chatted more about music, this time the conversation turned to instruments, mixing boards and laying down tracks.  Debra had only been in a real studio once, so was avidly interested in everything Russell told her about recording an album.  And of course, the accompanying stories of his escapades with his mates followed naturally and before they realized how much time had passed, there was another knock at the door.

Russell got up to answer the door, disappointed that Debra was gathering up the dishes and looking like she was going to get ready to go again.  When he opened the door revealing Mark, he checked his watch and saw it was already past five.  His heart sank as he remembered the seven o’clock dinner meeting he had to attend and if he was going to make it, he’d have to end his afternoon now.

“Okay, mate, I got ya.  Make sure Debra gets home, okay?  I’ll be downstairs in a half hour,” he told Mark.  He closed the door and walked over to where Debra was standing, purse in hand.

“This was fantastic.  I’ve never had such a great lunch with anyone in my life.  Thank you so much, Mr Cr–…Russell.”

“When can I see you again?”

Debra’s eyes opened wider, “You…What?”

“You heard me, luv.  I’ve got meetings all over my calendar, but I’d like to see you again.  Do you have a night off from the radio station?”

He loved the confusion playing across her face and had to work hard at not laughing at her as she at once tried to understand what his invitation meant while attempting to answer his question.

“Look, it’s real simple, luv.  Sometimes Mr-Hollywood-Movie-Guy meets just the right OC-DJ-Girl and it doesn’t matter what either of them does for a living.  What matters is that we had a good time and I, for one, would like to do it again.  How about you?  Wanna get together again?”

He watched as she took a deep breath.  He had recognized in her the “bottom-line” personality type and knew if he broke down the equation to its simplest terms, she’d have an easier time getting to the part where she accepted his invitation.

“’Kay,” she finally said.

“Great.  So when are you off from the station?”

“Sundays and Wednesdays, unless I get called in to cover.”

He put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in for another kiss, this one on her forehead.  “Make sure you don’t get called in,” he whispered in her ear, loving the soft gasp she gave as he spoke.  “I’ll send a car for you, about five o’clock , Sunday night, okay?”

“’Kay,” she whispered back.

They walked over to the door together and as he opened it she turned quickly, kissed him on the cheek, smiled and just as quickly left him holding the door for her.  He watched her walk down the hall to the elevator and then waved at her as the elevator doors closed.