~ ❀ ✿ ~

𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇 ― ☀ ☁ ― 𝖑𝖆𝖇𝖞𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖍

\\ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 //

"SO?" THE QUESTION ESCAPES TAYLOR'S MOUTH THE SECOND THE DOOR IS CLOSED SHUT AND MILES WAS OUT OF THE ROOM.

"You tell us, hon." Tom and Joe share a nod looking at her.

Taylor has a... a smile on her face. Her thumb is stuck between her lips as she bites on the rim of her nail gently, eyes off to the side, upper body shaking from side to side, "I think.."

She looks at her father, hand falling back to her side as she gives a single nod with a pleasant smile on her face, "I think we found our Bradley."

Tom and Joe look at each other with broad smiles, it seems things were finally going on their course.

The director and superior actor open their opposite arms, and Taylor runs towards them, before they're all jumping up and down in utter happiness.

And then, it hits her.

What about Powell?

Her excited-ness is replaced by concern as she stops jumping, a sheepish look on her face as both Tom and Joe look at her confusedly.

She meets their gaze, brows furrowed, "What are we gonna do about Powell?"

Tom and Joe share a look, before her and Joe are immediately announcing loudly, "Not it!"

Her father announces his disagreement to break it to Powell a bit too late, groaning when he realizes he was going to be the lamb in the crossfire.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

HER FATHER WAS A WUSS, TAYLOR HAD CONCLUDED.

Currently, they were at a bar not five minutes away from the studio, and there he was.

The blonde who'd auditioned for the role of Rooster, slump in his chair by the bar, head in his hands as he leant against the counter, glass of Tennessee Whiskey in front of him.

Taylor throws out a dejected sigh, about to take a step in the blonde's direction, when she's pushed forward from behind, having no doubt the culprit was her father.

She did not mean to stumble into the Powell man's back.

Her hands crash against his back, pushing him further into the table as he smacks his head against it, groaning as he looks over his shoulder to see Taylor holding her hands out in an apologetic manner, sheepish look on her face.

"What the actual-" Glen stumbles onto his feet, standing in front of her, a questioning look on his face.

His pupils were dilated, brows furrowed, as he looked down at her, "Ms. Cruise, what're you doing here?"

Taylor looks over her shoulder at her father, who was before extremely interested in their conversation, turn around 180 degrees, doing some sort of weird walk away from the two of them. 

It reminded her of Mickey Mouse.

She narrows her eyes at his leaving back, shaking her head the slightest before she looks back at Glen.

"Dude, please don't call me Ms. Cruise. Makes me feel way older than I am." Glen just nods, looking down.

"I was gonna get a drink with my nowhere-to-be-found father, but he's a scaredy-cat." Taylor nods in confirmation, brows raising and eyes widening as she takes a seat beside Glen's seat by the bar.

He gives her a smile as he takes his own seat, and the bartender asks her what she's going to take.

With a kind smile and nod, she jerks her head towards Glen, "I'll have what he's having, also, put it on my tab, yeah, Jay?"

Jay nods, returning the smile, "You got it, lil' Cruise!" He points his index at her, moving away from the counter with his back towards them.

Taylor turns towards Glen who was watching their conversation with a small smile, taking another sip of his Whiskey.

She follows, taking a gulp herself. She feels pride at the fact that she'd gotten used to whiskey so much that she could let it down her throat without making an expression.

Glen looks at her surprised, brows raised higher than she'd ever seen before, lips pulling upwards further, dazed look on his face, as he absentmindedly mutters out loud, "Marry me."

She chuckles, taking another sip from the glass, ignoring his mutter and placing her elbow on the counter beside the glass, leaning her head against it as she looks at him with a smile.

"What's wrong, Glen?" Her face is serious, but not too serious to intimidate him off, yet serious enough for him to understand that she was giving him a safe space to talk about his feelings instead of drinking through his defeat.

Glen sighs a dejected, looking down at his glass as he twirls his finger around the curve of the glass, "I think.."

Taylor remains quiet as he continues after a beat, listening to him, "I think I was expecting... I was expecting a confirmation that I did get the role. It was something I was looking forward to, you know? I was excited about it, I'd told literally,"

Glen takes a large gulp from his glass, face contorting as the alcohol probably burned down his throat, before he continues, " I'd told literally, fucking everyone, and the very next day, I get the call."

He sighs, and she remains quite, understanding his feelings, "I guess I feel not.. not good enough?"

There's curiosity on his face, he seemed to be waiting for Taylor to confirm that maybe he wasn't good enough.

She shakes her head, brows furrowing the slightest, as she replies, "Glen, you weren't not good enough. You just.. You just didn't fit what we had in mind."

Okay, Taylor was not the right person to console someone.

"Don't get me wrong, I had fun with your screen test, and your improv, dude, it was awesome." Glen sends her a thankful smile, which she returns.

"But Rooster.. he's very different from what you've portrayed him as. Not that cocky, but come on, every man's a bit cocky- not that smirky." Glen nods, and she understands he took her constructive criticism just the way she wanted him to.

"What you gave us, was a mixture of..." Taylor's own brows furrow as she searches for the correct words.

Her eyes lit up when she got the perfect phrase to describe him, "It was a mix of Iceman on the ground, and Maverick in the air."

This gets her thinking.

They sit in silence, and Glen lets Taylor's words sink in.

"Hey, Jay!" All of a sudden, the older woman calls for the familiar bartender, who comes back with their drinks and a friendly smile, "Yeah, Tay?"

Taylor gives him a quick smile, "D'you have a piece of paper, or just, something I can write on?" She searches her pockets for a pen, bringing it up on the counter.

Jay replies, "Uh, I don't think we have any paper, will a napkin work?"

Taylor smiles of relief, brows raising, "Perfectly fine, Jay, thanks man."

Glen questions, absolutely confused about what was exactly going on. "What the hell, are you doing?" His Texan upbringing is brought up in his voice.

Was it the whiskey, or something else?

"I think I have a way for you to get the role you want." Taylor replies, before she's writing down on the napkin lightly to not tear it apart.

Glen seems to jump up in his seat with happiness, "Rooster?!"

His yell makes the bar quiet down for a couple of seconds, as the pair look around their surroundings, people glaring at them, sorry written on their faces with sheepish smiles.

"Sorry, guys, it's the Tennessee!" With another yell from Taylor, everyone's chuckling the slightest bit, returning back to their conversations.

"No, Powell, not Rooster." Glen visibly slumps in his seat again, leaning his head against the counter with a loud groan. She pays the back of his head softly, chuckling.

"No. But, maybe, something better." His head props up the tiniest bit in curiosity, brows raised.