Leaning against the cold warehouse wall, Zoey's emotions were a tangled mess.
Anger? A little—she felt for Tracy and Rachel.
Contempt? Of course; Leon really was scum.
But beneath that, a more shameful feeling was quietly taking root.
A curiosity so intense it made her cheeks burn, and a strange, restless physical reaction stirred by the faint, heart-fluttering sounds.
At first it was muffled grunts and whispers.
Then Eliza's choked, broken praise and pleas.
Later the pitch rose into uncontrolled, near-climaxing sobs and cries.
Mixed with scalp-tingling, half-religious, half-sensual babble.
"God… save me…"
"I'm dying… it's beautiful…"
"Leon… darling… my king…"
Zoey bit her lip hard, fingers scratching unconsciously at the rough wall.
Her cheeks blazed; her legs felt weak.
This forced eavesdropping—anger, scorn, curiosity and an arousal she refused to admit—drove her almost crazy.
She wanted to rush in and drag the shameless pair out, yet stayed rooted, ears greedily catching every pulse-quickening sound.
After an eternity the warehouse door finally creaked open.
Eliza stepped out first.
Her face glowed, strands of gold hair sweat-plastered to forehead and neck.
Her dazed, glistening eyes looked boneless yet reborn, radiating a dazzling afterglow.
Seeing Zoey, a flicker of shame crossed her face, quickly replaced by languid contentment and warmth.
Leon followed.
He looked refreshed, only two shirt buttons undone.
Spotting Zoey, he flushed briefly, then regained composure.
Eliza slipped to Zoey's side, casually looping an arm through hers and leaning close, voice husky and sweet: "Zoey, thank you… sorry to trouble you again."
Her warm, honeyed breath brushed Zoey's ear.
Zoey stiffened; the whole side Eliza touched went numb.
She managed an "Mm," not pushing her away.
Under Leon's surprised gaze, Eliza half-leaned on Zoey and, arms entwined, the two girls drifted toward the restroom to tidy up.
And why did Zoey look unsteady too?
Leon watched them go, rubbing his chin, a strange feeling rising.
Director Stephen Hopkins shouted "Cut!" and the set relaxed into applause.
The director shook Leon's hand; crew members hugged and high-fived him.
Two months of teamwork turned into heartfelt farewells that evening.
After good-byes, a dozen of them headed to the booked West Hollywood bar.
Director Stephen and the older producers skipped it; the mood stayed easy.
Kiefer Sutherland, Sarah Clarke, Leslie Hope, Elisha Cuthbert and a few other young regulars pulled chairs into a circle.
They drank freely as music played.
Talk soon turned to Leon's next film.
"I hear you're doing Ron Howard's picture?" Sarah Clarke asked, envious. "Acting opposite Russell Crowe?"
Leon nodded. "A Beautiful Mind, based on Nobel laureate John Forbes Nash Jr.'s biography. I'm just supporting."
Kiefer Sutherland raised his glass in salute.
Everyone toasted the rare chance to spar with Russell Crowe—something even leading man Kiefer envied.
Though Kiefer had acted since '83 and directed a few B-horror flicks, they were mostly thrillers—not an Oscar-targeted film like A Beautiful Mind, and certainly not opposite Russell Crowe.
Leon smiled, accepting their cheers, knowing if they learned he would headline fast & furious afterward, envy would deepen.
But until contracts were locked and press releases out, he and Tracy would stay silent.
They shared set stories and NG bloopers, laughter all around.
Eliza stayed pressed to Leon's side, quietly refilling his glass or tracing his hand while he spoke.
Just past eight, Kiefer and Sarah stood to leave, hugging Leon and wishing him luck.
Last to go, Leslie even winked at Eliza, earning a faint blush.
Only Leon and Eliza remained in the booth.
Music still played, but the hush made parting sharp.
Eliza turned, clasping his hands.
Seeing her expectant eyes, Leon surrendered again.
She stood, pulling him outside.
The night air cool, she flagged a cab and gave a hotel address.
"Not your apartment?" Leon asked.
Eliza nestled against him, tipped a mysterious smile and whispered, "I want to give you a surprise."
Curious and intrigued, Leon followed her to the suite.
The door clicked shut, sealing out corridor silence.
Eliza nudged him toward the bathroom.
"Go Shower," she murmured, voice trembling with nerves or excitement. "I need to prepare."
Leon chuckled at her mystery and obeyed.
Inside, he turned on the Shower; warm water enveloped him, steam clouding the mirror.
As he relaxed under the spray, the door quietly opened.
Eliza stood wrapped in a towel, cheeks flushed, hair loosely pinned to bare her graceful neck.
Wordless, she stepped in and closed the door behind her.
The space shrank, suddenly intimate.
Leon slipped an arm around her waist; the towel fell. They kissed under the drumming water, urgent and deep, parting sorrow forgotten.
Eliza soon pulled back, breathless. "Don't take too long,"
she whispered, eyes shimmering with water or feeling. "I can't wait."
Leon's anticipation for her surprise soared.