Harry awoke with a dull ache still coursing through his chest. The memory of his argument with Rachel hung about him like smoke.
He had yelled too much, drank too much, and said words that cannot be taken back. For a moment, still lying in bed, Sparky pressed against his leg, he thought about calling Rachel downstairs and apologizing. But pride got the better of him so he found stuffed clothes into his leather travel bag instead.
London must be better. A football game, some distance, a breather/a breath away from the mansion with its blinking Christmas lights and bitter ideas.
By the time Maria knocked on his door to let him know breakfast was ready, Harry was already dressed, coat draped over his arm. "I'll eat on the plane," he offered, brushing by her. He evaded the tray she had prepared for him, along with the way her gaze flickered toward him, betraying her worries.
At the airport, his phone buzzed incessantly. Lisa had left him three messages, about Fox wanting him to confirm interviews. James had called him two times - likely about the offer in DC.
Toni broadcast a curt voicemail, inquiring about his recent vanishing act. Even Maria, who only called when utterly necessary, reached out to him once. He put the phone in his pocket without further consideration and ascended the plane without listening thereafter. Today was not a business day.
The first-class cabin was peaceful—a calm beige interior, the muted sound of the engines below. Harry slid into his seat, pulled a magazine from the pocket, and attempted to immerse himself in the printed pages.
A few minutes later, a small, bright woman took the seat beside Harry. She had big, bright eyes and dark brown hair that she tucked behind her ear as she settled down. She had that nervous energy, the bubbly energy that was a little restless; she caught Harry sneaking a glance, and gave him the biggest smile.
"Long flight, huh?" she asked with a bright voice, clearly cheerful.
Harry looked up from his magazine, amused. "That depends. London isn't that far, if you sleep."
She giggled as she adjusted her seatbelt. "I'm just not cut out for sleeping on the plane. I usually just end up talking to whoever is seated next to me. It can get a bit disturbing at times."
Harry leaned back and decided to humor her. "Then I might as well prepare myself."
"Yes, brace yourself." She offered her hand. "By the way, I'm Anne. Anne Hathaway."
Harry blinked and the name sparked a memory in him. She she was not yet a star, but he vaguely recognized the name and can remember the arc: The Princess Diaries had only just been released a few months ago, and she was still the process of establishing her career.
He shook her hand, trying to suppress the smile that might have been creeping to his lips. "Harry Jackson."
Her eyes brightened. "Jackson? Jackson Multimedia?"
Harry nodded. "And various other things."
"Wow. No kidding," she exclaimed, and then stared at him saying nothing for just a beat too long. "I've heard of you. Well, I've heard of your company. My talent agency is associated with Jackson Multimedia. I didn't realize you were… well you."
Harry chuckled softly. "That happens sometimes."
"But wait—" Her brow scrunched in thought as the pieces began to click in her mind. "You're also that young director people have been whispering about, aren't you? The one who created that film, Providence? I think I read something about that in Variety."
Harry raised one eyebrow and nodded slightly, looking wry. "That would be I. Though whispering may be generous."
Anne released another laugh-light, above the drone of the cabin. "I cannot believe this. Wouldn't that be like, a 1 in a million chance? A director with a reputation in the industry, and I end up sitting right next to him on a random plane ride."
"Stranger things have happened." said Harry, who like other people found her laugh to be contagious, and took a breath deeper into his chest than he had since last night.
They spoke as the plane glided over the Atlantic. She told him stories about the agonizing auditions in New York, how The Princess Diaries was her dream but also a curse-casting directors simply saw her as the quirk teenager and never anything beyond. She talked about wanting to showcase complex characters, something beyond the "quirky friend," but she wasn't convinced someone would grant her the pass to obtain more complex characters.
"I feel like people are waiting for me to grow up a bit on screen for them to take me seriously." She moved her lips to chew on the corner.
Harry watched her for a moment, recalling what the original timeline had in store for her: her meteoric rise, her Oscar wins, and the societal acceptance she'd worked a decade to achieve. And he thought, well, maybe this was yet another opportunity to change something.
"Anne," he said slowly, "I'm working on a script now. There's a character—a young woman in a key role. If you'd like, I can call you in for an audition once the script is written."
She tilted her head and the skepticism returned to her face. "Really? Just like that? After two hours of conversation, you just want to throw a role at me?"
Harry smiled. "I said an audition. Nothing more. You'll still do everything the same as anyone else. But I can give you some inside information about the script if that interests you."
Anne sat back, and crossed her arms, half amused and half suspicious. "You're not saying this to just… you know… hit on me, right?"
Harry did not deny that. Instead, he chuckled slightly in a soft laugh, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. "Would it help if I told you I'm a terrible flirt? If I was trying to hit on you, I would be doing a much worse job."
Her lips curled into a smile against her will. "Fine. I'll think about it."
"Great. That's all I'm asking," said Harry. He pulled his magazine back in front of him but wasn't really reading it; his mind was already racing ahead, about how this chance encounter could reshape the direction of a career.
Hours later, the plane began its descent. The captain's voice crackled over the speaker, telling the passengers to put their seatbelts on. London was below them, smothered in clouds.
Anne glanced at him as she secured her seatbelt. "Well, Harry Jackson… I'll hold you to that audition suggestion. Don't fall off the radar and forget about me."
Harry laughed. "I'm not easy to forget. You'll hear from me."
As the wheels touched down on the runway, the cabin jolted him upright. His eyes never left the window as he contained his excitement. He was already so far out of his previous pattern, what was one more ripple in the river?
As the plane taxied into the gate, Anne adjusted her scarf and flashed him a smile again.
Well, he thought, we've already made history together. So, might as well see how far we can take it.