Emma

14

(Author apologizes for the extremely uncomfortable format)

For The Win

The sun rose and everything fell.
Haiden swore loudly and slammed his fist on the table, causing the entire display to slump farther to the side, leaning unsteadily, He rubbed his eyes, wanting nothing more but to make up for the sleep he had sacrificed to the delicate project. To Haiden, a tall, skinny, brown-haired 27-year-old, every job was as unstable as his eating habits, and this failure was sure to get him fired.
Again.
The first time, it was an incredibly tragic hummus incident in the women’s bathroom. Not only did he violate the break room refrigerator rules, but he also lost the trust of the entirety of his office’s female population.
Haiden’s next job ended at a particularly festive office holiday party, during which he found an unattended purse. He thought he was doing the right thing when he stumbled onto the small stage with the bag, and rummaged around in it for items that might identify the owner. It was only after he had read into the microphone the contents of a grocery store receipt, including items such as four packages of Depends and Extra-Strength Dulcolax, that the boss’s wife, red-faced, quickly walked up to the stage and snatched the bag out of Haiden’s hands. It was not long afterwards that his fuming boss took him outside and, told him to find another job.
As a result of these unfortunate events, Haiden’s jobs became more and more desperate. He had majored in film direction in college, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to actually begin a career in the field. By good fortune, an old friend’s girlfriend ran a small advertising agency with a vacant position. Although Haiden’s art skills were equivalent to that of a drunken toddler, he was taken in to fill the position. He had already botched three chalkboard designs that week, and Andrea, his boss, was getting impatient with him.
That display was his only hope.

Haiden squinted in the bright sunlight after stepping out of his car, holding what he had managed to patch up of the structurally unsound display. Luckily enough, clients of the company expected him to be a legitimate artist, which meant no one asked any questions when he arrived at the small business in sweatpants, flip flops, and a ketchup-stained “Tattoine or Bust” T-shirt.
He tried to disguise his amazement when the talkative middle-aged shopowner loved his scrappy-looking display. She told him that it was just the right “feel” her store was about, and how he was “an incredible craftsman,” Haiden personally doubted her thoughts about his handiwork as he watched her set it on a table, where it promptly collapsed.
It was at this point that a bell chimed right above Haiden. Before he could realize he was standing directly in front of the entrance, the metal door swung and hit him straight in the spine, knocking him flat on the floor.
He opened his eyes after a few seconds of pain to see a petite woman about his age with short black hair and dark brown eyes drop to her knees to examine him.
“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” She knelt over him, her lined eyes wide with worry.
“No, no, I’m fine, thanks,” groaned Haiden as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. The young woman glanced at his shirt.
“Oh my gosh! I love Star Wars. The filmography is just amazing, and the casting was just perfect,” she gushed, holding out her hand to Haiden. He grabbed it firmly and she pulled him up.
“Alexa,” she introduced herself. “But I just go by Alex.”
“I’m Haiden,” Haiden awkwardly replied, now extremely aware of the large ketchup blotches on his shirt.
Over Alex’s shoulder, Haiden saw the shopowner turning the corner. Knowing that he would have to face her middle-aged conversational clutches if he didn’t escape, he released Alex’s hand and spoke hurriedly.
“Well,” Haiden started, trying to make it clear to his client that he was going to leave, “I have to run. I hope you like the display, ma’am. Nice to meet you, Alex.” Despite his attempts, it seemed like the shopowner didn’t get the message. She began to open her mouth, and Haiden used his last resort before it was too late. “Here’smycardifyouhaveanyproblemspleasecallgoodbye!” He tossed his business card behind him and made a break for it. Outside the shop, Haiden faintly overheard Alex become the woman’s next victim.
“Such a lovely young man,” he heard the lady said kindly. “He’s an artist, you know. So is my niece. Look at this gorgeous display over here…”
Haiden was too far away to hear Alex’s reply as he swung his keys around his index finger and walked back to his car. Sliding into the seat, he started the engine and began to drive back to his apartment.
An artist, he thought. Hardly.

That night, while Haiden sat in front of his television playing video games and shoveling chips into his mouth, he faintly heard his phone ring. Pausing the game, he sighed and stood, causing an avalanche of chip crumbs. Stepping over small mountains of dirty clothes, he made his way to his disheveled bed. Haiden looked at the unidentified number on the screen and answered the call.
“Hello?” he asked tentatively, praying it wasn’t another prank call from his terrifying nephew.
“Hi. Is Haiden Mallone there?”
Surprised at hearing Alex’s distinct voice, Haiden stepped backwards, slipping on a puddle of week-old wing sauce and hitting his head on his bedside table on the way down.
“Um… Is this a bad time? I can call later-“
“No, no, it’s fine,” said Haiden through gritted teeth. “This is Haiden, yeah. Wait, how did you get my number?”
“Oh, I asked Andrea. We’re actually roommates. I thought it was cool, you know, that she’s your boss. Anyway, when I told her about the run-in today; she told me about how you got your job, and what you actually went to school for. Long story short, I guess, is that I need some money for future films, so I was thinking about making a full-length film to enter in next year’s Independent Film Festival. The only reason I can’t do it by myself is because a film of that magnitude would be way too hard to write, cast, direct, film, and edit myself. So I guess I’m asking you to team up with me. Andrea said she would try to be patient with you if you do decide to do it.”
Haiden rubbed his eyes, struggling to keep up. Alex seemed a little desperate as she continued.
“The award-winners get 25 grand… If the film was good enough, I mean… we could split it?”
Haiden let out all of his breath in one long exhale.
“So let me get this straight,” he said, squinting his eyes as if mapping out everything she had just said on an imaginary whiteboard. “You’re a film director. Some kind of weird serendipity. Cool. Okay. But I need to focus on my own career. I’m already struggling with rent, and my mother is beginning to doubt my financial capability. You seem great, I would love to help you out, but I-I can’t.”
Haiden sighed, and tried to ignore the hairball-like lump that seemed to be lodged in his lungs.
Alex sighed, and there was a moment of disappointed silence.
“Thanks for bearing with me,” she spoke softly. “Sorry for calling so late.”
Haiden scratched his stubbly chin and looked around his disgusting, trash-laden bachelor pad.
“Well, hope you have a good night,” Alex said with an obvious downcast tone.
Haiden absently responded with a “you too”. Then memories flashed back… Holding a camera in his hand, making the only film in his class that his professor liked. Feeling like a success until getting out into the real world again, where he realized that he couldn’t just be the movie guy again. There was actual stuff he had to do. But he realized in that split second that what he really wanted to do was be the movie geek again, the one who quoted Monty Python’s Holy Grail ad nauseam and couldn’t decide whom he liked better: Kirk or Picard.
“WAIT!!!!!” Haiden yelled, and he could faintly hear a startled cry from Alex, who he could tell was about to hang up.
“What?” she asked.
“I’ll do it,” he announced, then went to get some ice for his head.

Working with Alex was nothing like Haiden expected it to be. Unlike his former impressions of her, she, like every woman Haiden knew, was assured that she was always right and he was always very, very wrong. It didn’t matter what the situation was, Alex insisted that it would be her way.
The plot of the film was about a group of four children that wake up one day as adults. It was initially Haiden’s idea, but Alex wrote it. Her reasoning against Haiden writing the script was that he would ruin their chance at winning by inserting unnecessary expletives into the dialogue. It had never been formally prohibited, but Alex said that it would be too risky; she wanted it to be media-friendly. An indignant Haiden protested. “How can it be funny if no one swears?”
Casting the children’s roles was Haiden’s least favorite part. Alex had advertised the auditions, and since she was working on the storyboard, Haiden alone was to select the young actors to play the four main characters’ child selves. The job would have been easy if only Haiden wasn’t generally bad with children. What made him even more uncomfortable was the parents. They came in with their kids, and the entire time they would stare Haiden down like they would do something incredibly violent to him if their precious little angel didn’t make the part. Not to mention that their children were almost never good actors. The entire experience made Haiden absolutely positive that he would never have children of his own.
What surprised Haiden most was that the indoor scenes in the script were actually filmed on a makeshift set Alex had constructed, in an abandoned parking garage in which she had stashed an odd assortment of furniture items that were used to stage the scenes. Some of the furniture she chose to use in their film made Haiden intensely uncomfortable, such as the loveseat that appeared to be woven out of some kind of cat hair and the old locked wardrobe made of very thick oak. Haiden swore that he could hear noises coming from the suspicious closet, which he avoided like the plague.
The closer they got to finishing the film, the more Haiden remembered why he chose to pursue work in other fields. Working on both a full-time job in an ad agency and creating a full feature film was extremely tiring. So tiring, in fact, that on one occasion Haiden woke up and was mortified to find himself on the dreaded cat-hair sofa. Another time, Haiden was awakened by Alex’s laughs. In between her giggling fits she informed him that he was talking in his sleep, then showed him the video she had taken on her phone of him arguing with an invisible adversary about the Lord of the Rings. Throughout the editing process, his power naps became more and more frequent, earning him a few Sharpie tattoos.
The huge independent film festival arrived sooner than either of them expected. Haiden’s nerves soon got the best of him, and on the drive there he vented his anxious energy on Alex by ranting about selfie sticks and former realtors with ludicrous hair running for president. Luckily, by the time they pulled into a parking space at their hotel, Haiden had returned to his normal state and Alex had been enlightened on what Haiden saw as the nation’s impurities. They had a schedule, a map, two VIP passes, two fanny packs, and three bags of Doritos.
They were prepared.

After two days of touring the festival, watching the other films on display, attending interviews, and co-hosting a panel about writing a movie, Alex and Haiden were scheduled to be at the Indie Film Awards at sundown the second night of the festival.
It was only when Haiden slid into the car and saw Alex in a dress that he realized the dress code was semi-formal. She didn’t seem surprised when he sat down in cargo pants and a wrinkly polo shirt; she only gestured to the back of the car with a tired smile, where Haiden found a rented suit in a clothing bag. He ran back into the hotel to change, simultaneously embarrassed and frightened that she knew what size he wore.
They got to the theatre inside the huge performing arts center, where the awards were taking place, and took their seats in the reserved section. Before the ceremony took place, Haiden tried not to fall asleep and Alex looked over the night’s awards and nominations.
“Look at this,” she said, her voice hushed with excitement. She leaned over to Haiden and showed him the program, and he caught a whiff of her perfume, which made his mind go blank, for some reason.
“We’re nominated for Best Overall Film!”
He jumped out of his seat. “WHAT!?” he cried, then suddenly realized that most chatter in the large theater had ceased and everyone was staring at him. Alex pulled him back down by his arm.
“Best?” he asked incredulously. “How did we not know about this?”
Alex shrugged.
“I’m sure we might have missed an email or something.”
Haiden’s mind was blown. He couldn’t believe that he and Alex could win twenty-five thousand dollars from a film they had created from start to finish; especially one without expletives.
A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair stepped up to the stage and distracted Haiden from his thoughts. He adjusted the microphone attached to the podium and flashed a dazzling smile that would have made even Spock blush.
“Hello ladies, gentlemen, and other! Welcome to the twentieth annual Independent Film Festival. My name, if you didn’t know, is Kurt Anderson.” He flashed another smile, and the entire audience chuckled heartily as if he had said something absolutely hilarious.
Haiden turned to Alex, confused. “Did I miss something?” he whispered.
She looked just as clueless as he did. “They do this every year,” she answered. “I have no idea.”
Haiden returned his attention to Anderson with a newfound dislike.
“Now, we’ve had some really fantastic films this year. Superior work. So, because it’s the festival’s twentieth anniversary,” he stopped, grinning at the applause like they were clapping for him, and continued, “we’ve asked our sponsors to donate money to the winners of each category.” He proceeded to describe each category and the nominees, and Haiden struggled, like always, to keep himself awake. Finally, the presentation of the awards began, and after thirty minutes of awkward fidgeting, Kurt Anderson himself glided onto the stage for a second time to present Best Overall Film.
“It is my honor to present the award for Best Overall Film,” he said as he flashed his blinding teeth, and once again the audience lost it, roaring with laughter.
“Seriously, what is this guy’s deal?” whispered Haiden with an irritated expression.
“Maybe they have a lot of inside jokes?” Alex offered doubtfully.
Anderson continued, naming the nominees. Haiden felt a jolt of adrenaline when he heard his and Alex’s film called, and another when Alex grabbed his hand tightly. They listened with bated breath.
“And the winner is….”

With his arm around Alex, they walked up to the large building. She swung the keys around her index finger, the way Haiden always did. They had waited for this moment for a year, and now they were getting their own studio, and getting their own production company. Mallone-Robinson films.
Haiden followed her to the studio door, and watched in excitement as she turned the key in the lock. She looked back at him, and he gestured to the door, as if to say, “It’s all yours.”
Alex stared at the door handle and slowly turned the knob.