Chapter Nine
"David!"
He snapped out of his trance and turned to Jacob, his editor. The man kept rambling for the past hour and David was out of it, disregarding the totting man. It was futile concentrating in the meeting for his mind would wander elsewhere.
"I'd appreciate if you spare us a second or two in this matter, this is your book after all." Jacob deadpanned, sliding him a disgruntled look.
David smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, go on."
Jacob sighed deeply before turning on his laptop, showing sales and most of the kids' preferred genres. It wasn't a hassle and David rarely uses this for at the end of the day, it was his ideas that mattered. But Jacob insisted on knowing the pros and cons, since the issue was brought up weeks ago about David's books as 'not-so-child-friendly'. He brought up his lawyers and settled the issue. It took nearly took three months for the case to close, and David's team became more cautious as to not create another dilemma that might put David's career at risk, again.
"I've been thinking." David cut through Jacob's presentation, voice grave. He had a distant look in his irises and Jacob glance at the other people present in the room and nodded.
"What do you have in mind, Walliams?"
David gave it a thought. Well, actually, he had given it numerous thoughts but he wondered if Jacob would approve.
"I was thinking of making something different."
Jacob raised his brow in question and crossed his arms. "If you're doing a different genre, make it more enticing for the kids. You've already tested almost all of it."
David leaned in his chair and pursed his lips.
"That's just it, I don't want to make children's book. I want to do adult themes."
Silence.
"Beg your pardon?"
"You heard me." David answered tightly. "I want to do something different."
Jacob gave a humorless laugh. "No, Walliams. I heard you the first time. My reply, obviously, is what the bloody fuck are you on?"
David tried not to flinch. Jacob can be frightening in some occasions and this was one of them. But he was determined to make it happen, it wasn't because he'll give up on writing children's books. David just wanted something different for a change.
"My decision is final, Jacob. Regardless if you'll agree or not." He finalized before standing up, gathering his blazer and case.
"Have a good day." He gave a small smile and bid his farewell, exiting the room with thick tension.
•••
"How did your day go, Dave?"
He groaned and loosened his tie, collapsing completely on the sofa.
"Tedious. Yours?"
Callista frowned as she set aside the freshly cooked pasta on the kitchen aisle and went to where David was, garbed in her apron still.
She sighed and carefully lifted David's head and placing on her lap. She softly caressed his scalp, to which he absolutely adores judging from the sigh that escaped his nostrils.
"Wanna talk about it?" She offers softly.
"You didn't tell me how your day went." He opposed, poking her chin.
Callista smiled. "My day doesn't matter. I can tell you another time. What's more important is you, so?"
He'd marry this girl in an instant if he could.
"Jacob's been very bossy for the passed months. Always going on and on about patching up the issue."
She frowned and held his hand on her palm. A lawsuit was filed on David discussing his books with contents of racist preferences. After much intense files and charges, David manage to win the case and apologized for any inconveniences. That whole month was a hellhole for the both of them, causing David to miss a few episodes in BGT.
"Well, you can't blame him. It's been a rough month. I know he has good intentions."
He pursed his lips. "I'm actually considering on...giving up the whole children's book thing."
Callista's caresses stoped, she looked down at him shocked. "What? Why?"
"It's just," he pondered, finding the correct words for it. "I don't feel it anymore. There's no emotion, no passion, just meeting deadlines. Forced to write because of requests. I don't even recognize my writing anymore."
Callista frowned and let David spew his thoughts. It was hard as it as a writer. Words or stories don't merely pop in your head, passion rarely knocks on your door, and quite frankly, inspiration is hard to find.
"That doesn't mean I'll give up on writing, I just want to do something different." He says, clutching Callista's hand in his and kissing her wrist.
Ignoring the goosebumps, she smiled. "You do you, Dave. Know that I'll support you every step of the way. I know you're gonna do great."
Dave grinned and and sat up, pulling her closer, their breaths mingling.
"Thank you." He breaths before pressing his lips for a quick peck, much to Callie's chagrin.
David chuckled as she saw her pouted lips.
"Let's have meal first, love. After that, dessert." He wiggled his brows suggestively.
Callie blushed and nearly smacked him.
•••
He is a nice man. Fine, tamed, and refined. Often labelled as the English gentlemen with over millions of fans. He's adored, loved, and praised for his reserved ideals.
Yet one could only maintain such control in a small amount of time. The image of him in public and now are two different things. Right now, Tom didn't care if he loose his cool. There was fire burning in his muscles, slowly consuming his vision.
He was currently in his trailer, taking a break because of an upcoming movie from the Warner Bros. He opted for some relaxation by reading some magazine on his coffee table but found out that, after a few pages, he got stuck on one pic. An issue he was unaware off for the past two days.
He nearly threw the magazine in his hand, one page crumpled. But he had an ounce of resolve left, hanging, completely on the brink of disappearing but still there.
"It's all over the news, media's been crazy about them since they made it public."
Tom glanced at his friend with a glare as he sauntered. If looks could kill, this one would do just right.
Oliver, unperturbed and carrying two cans of beer, shrugged as he leaned on the seat adjacent to him. He's accustomed to one of Tom's fits or so to say, he was the only one who knew.
"What does she even see in him?" Tom spat, disgusted and throwing the magazine on the floor. The smiling faces of Callista Miller, renowned Philanthropist, and David Williams, comedian and author, mocking him. Looking back at it any longer would only dampen his already-worsen mood.
"Beggars can't be choosers." Oliver snarked, laughing himself off as he opened a can of beer offering it to the fuming man.
Tom took it and drank it with rigor.
He didn't get it. When Callista and her became close, she told him she was over him. During the first few days of her assignments with WHO, Tom witnessed Callista's sobs at night, a heartbroken and wrenched sob. Tom was there every time, he always was. But he couldn't stay long and still stayed in touch, until the both of them got busy and seeing each other again here in London after quite some time.
A mischievous glimmer passed by his irises and the end of his lip quirked.
Oliver paused. "What are you planning?"
Now calm, Tom finished his drink, not hiding his smile. "Planning what?"
His friend deadpanned. "I know that look, Hiddleston. You're either planning something wretched or something that could someone's career."
"Maybe, maybe not." He smirks. "I just have some things in mind."
Oliver raised his brows and smiled a rueful smile. "You know whatever bullshit you're entering, I'm in."
Before Tom could respond, a knock was heard on hid trailer's door. Calling out other actors and actresses to start shooting.
"We'll just let them enjoy what they have right now," he stated, standing up. "All good things come to end, eventually."
He stepped out of the trailer with Oliver behind him, laughing. Tom's facade came back again after opening the door but his mind was bustling with something he'll enjoy doing.
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