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stating that Caius was a
control-freak diva who needed the set to himself for a day before
production started. He learned the sets, the blocking, learned to
listen to every tiny audio cue, aim his head in the right
direction, just as he had done in school. Together, with Phil at
his back and Emily at his side, his career began to take
off.
    Of
course, he couldn’t hide it forever. However, by the time the cast
and crew figured it out, they were all too overjoyed to work with
him; his talent was soaring and his personality drawing them in.
Confidentially agreements were signed, extra assistants were hired,
and the secret was kept. Caius had no interest in having his
eye-sight define him, and swore that the public must never know his
secret, or he would gain only the pity vote. After twelve years in
the industry, the only people who knew were the people he
frequently worked with: the same director for two films, the same
crew for his TV series and a film. And they all swore on their
lives to protect him, wanting him to succeed.
    And
then there was Emily; kind, gentle Emily who had left acting after
school to work in finance. Their friendship, now separated by many
miles, continued to exist through phone calls, and occasional
visits. Still, she would come when he needed her, and this was one
of those times.
    “But
what if you don’t get the Oscar?” she asked, dressed in sweatpants
and curled up on her couch, the phone pressed to her ear. She had
called him twice before he picked up, eager to catch up after a
week of silence. “I better not use the last of my vacation time to
help you for nothing!”
    “So,
you want me to rig it or something?” he asked, with a grin, sitting
on his own couch, three thousand miles away. His schedule had been
insane lately, and it was good to hear her voice. “Look, it’s held
in the same place every year. So all you have to do is watch a
million years of Oscar to memorize it.”
    “Wait,
we can’t get into the theatre beforehand? (This made her sit up
straight) For a walk through?”
    “This
is the whole problem, Em,” he replied, “have you been
listening?”
    She
sighed, glancing at the tabloid magazine she had bought earlier
that day. There he was, grinning up at her from the glossy page. In
a way, he seemed so different than the boy she had befriended at
school. However, ten seconds of his banter made her realize nothing
had changed.
    “Alright, have your minions send me tapes of the ceremonies
from the last 5 years. I’ll book some flights and call you
back.”
    “Thank
you, doll,” he replied, and said goodnight.
    There
was no-one in the world he loved quite like Emily, especially at
moments like this. However, love was quite different than lust, and
lust was what he was thinking about right now. He hung up the phone
and wandered back to the bedroom, picking up a beer as he
went.
    “Do
you think I’m pretty?” said the random bar-find of the night as he
came back in. He laughed at this, sliding back to the sheets in the
darkness. He had his contacts in, and he felt half drunk, but it
was still a good enough act to fool the star struck
girl.
    “Sure,
babe,” he replied, throwing an arm around her, and kissing her
hard, eager to pick up where they had left off earlier. His hand
drifted down her naked torso, down her taunt stomach and onto her
thighs. She gave a little whimper, curling closer to
him.
    “Prettier than the girl on the phone? Was that your
girlfriend?” she asked, and Caius winced at that.
    “I
don’t know,” he said, truthfully, but she took it as a tease and
kissed him back.
    His
mind flickered back to Emily, her soft skin and long hair. Whenever
he hugged her, he felt as if they matched, their bodies fitting
together perfectly. He missed her terribly, being so far away all
the time, sending her trinkets often.
    What
she didn’t know was the words that were unsaid on the phone; the
stilted goodbyes that he wanted to end with ‘I love you’,