“Can I stop you?”
“You say your main goal in life is to getGreen Lightmade. So get it made.”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t know how to.
He disappeared. Finally.
But no. There he was, back again. Would this maneverleave? “One more thing.”
“You already said your one more thing.”
“I’m here if you need me, Blair.”
Part 2
North Country Blues
Chapter 20
The End
Three months later
“Green Lightback on; Blair Kellermoon’s once and future project secures new funding”
The Hollywood Reporter, March 12, 2025
Green Light, Blair Kellermoon’s adaptation of the novel of the same name by the late Angela Laredo, is back from the dead as sources close to Kellermoon report the producer has secured financial backing from Silicon Valley mogul Bjorn Ekberg. The retelling ofThe Great Gatsbyis set to begin production next summer.
When Jack read that Blair had broughtGreen Lightback from the dead, he performed a literal fist pump in his living room. Had Jack taken to browsingThe Hollywood ReporterandVariety? So what if he had? It wasn’t like he had a Google alert set up for her name.
OK, he had a Google alert set up for her name.
Not that he could do anything with the information it gave him.
He had gone over and over it in his head, but he still didn’t really understand what had happened between them that night in LA. Well, he understood the plot: she’d been freaking out, he had tried to help but had instead called her out in a way she didn’t appreciate. They’d essentially had sex, which was a scum move on his part. He’d just been so overcome.
He picked up his phone and opened their text chain and read the last several he’d sent her.
Jack:I’ve booked a flight home for tomorrow. I’m going to fuck off and write my book, like you said.
Jack:Which I would not be in a position to do without you, so thank you.
She hadn’t written back. So he’d tried again, a few days later.
Jack:I meant what I said: I’m here if you need me.
Jack:Also, I’m sorry.
He was aware that “I’m sorry” was not great, as apologies went. It was too vague. The problem was, he stood by everything he’d said that night. With the benefit of hindsight, though, he could see that he hadn’t helped. He’d beentryingto. It had hurt him to see her like that, struggling and suffering, her life largely made up of coping mechanisms and watching TV with him. He was no prize. That was no life.
But people weren’t always ready to hear the truth. He knew that. That was why he didn’t review books. That was why he hadn’t been a very good teacher. He’d just gotten himself all muddled up because normally, in a situation where someone was being obstinate andunreasonable, he would simply remove himself, and happily so. So why had he pushed Blair so hard?
There was a lot to think about, but he’d been pushing thinking aside in favor of finishing his book. And he had.
He had finished his book.
He had come back to his cold, empty condo and sat down and finished it. As if it were easy. As if he were sitting by a pool with a black bird and a blond woman and the sun shining on him.
