….
"Why?" Regal laughed as the elevator ascended smoothly. "Hierarchy is hierarchy. You're the only guy who ever had the legal authority to fire me."
"That was damn years ago, you brat!"
"Was it?"
"Please, stop."
….
Within moments, they arrived at the eighteenth floor.
Regal led Jordan straight through the double doors into his office, gesturing toward the comfortable sofas by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Burbank skyline.
"Make yourself comfortable." Regal said.
He walked over to the brewing station, prepared two fresh mugs of black coffee, and brought them over, setting one down in front of Jordan before sinking into the chair opposite him.
Jordan took a sip of the coffee, looking around at the master storyboards and screenplay binders lining the shelves.
"So?" Regal leaned back, folding his hands, his expression warm and attentive. "What brought you all the way down to Burbank, Jordan? Don't tell me you ran out of stockers for the midnight shift."
Jordan chuckled dryly, setting the coffee mug down.
He picked up the faded leather folder he had been holding against his chest all morning, opened it carefully, and slid an elegant, silver embossed envelope across the dark wooden table.
"I am getting married." Jordan said bluntly.
Regal froze.
His eyes widened, his hands dropping to the armrests as he stared at the invitation, then slowly looked up at Jordan with an exaggerated, jaw-dropped look of complete and utter shock.
"You?!" Regal gasped, pointing an accusing finger at him–
"The man whose entire philosophy on life was 'marriage is a subscription model designed to take half your pension' is getting married again?!"
Jordan let out a rough, embarrassed snort, rubbing the back of his neck. "Shut up, kid. People change."
"Who is she?" Regal leaned in, a huge, genuine smile breaking across his face. "Does she know what she's getting into? Did you warn her about your grumpy retail rants?!"
"She runs the bakery down the street." Jordan muttered, a rare warmth softening his cynical eyes. "She's stubborn enough to tolerate me, and that's enough."
"Damn!! But I still can't believe it."
Jordan grunted, taking another sip of coffee. "Watching you young couples walk in and out of the store every damn night, heads in the clouds and hanging all over each other, finally made me jealous. Sue me."
He casually pointed his finger directly at Regal's neck.
"Speaking of which, you're not exactly subtle yourself, hotshot. Looks like your lady took a bite out of you this morning before sending you off to work."
Regal's smirk instantly froze, as his hand reflexively flew up to his neck, his fingers grazing the love bite.
'Oh, God'.
Regal cleared his throat, pulling his collar up with a rare look of embarrassment that Jordan hadn't seen on the kid since he dropped a carton of milk on the stockroom floor back in 2010.
Jordan chuckled, thoroughly enjoying it before his expression softened into something more grounded.
Regal picked up the silver envelope, admiring the clean lettering.
Beneath the jokes and banter, he was genuinely, deeply happy for his old boss.
He knew how lonely Jordan's life had been after his divorce back when Regal used to work late shifts, listening to the man vent over their coffee breaks.
"I know you're busy." Jordan continued, his tone turning a little more grounded, carrying a touch of hesitation–
"And I brought the invitation because... well, it felt wrong not to give it to you. But I understand if you can't make it."
Truthfully, Jordan hadn't even been sure Regal would remember him, let alone show up.
Half the reason he brought it was sentimental, and maybe a small part of him wanted to prove it to the guys at the local bar.
Who laughed in his face whenever he claimed he used to employ Hollywood's biggest director, that he wasn't lying.
Regal looked up from the card, and it was on December 12th.
"I will be there." He promised firmly.
Jordan blinked, surprised. "Kid, you don't have to force your schedule–"
"I am coming, Jordan." Regal cut him off with a resolute nod, slipping the invitation securely into his desk organizer. "I will be in the front row. You kept me fed and paid my rent when I was nobody. I am not missing your wedding."
Regal didn't know it yet, but making that promise was going to send Simon and Samantha into another nightmarish scheduling.
But even if Regal had known it ahead, he wouldn't have cared in the slightest.
Some things in life mattered more than anything else.
Jordan looked at Regal for a moment.
Seeing that the kid hadn't lost a single ounce of his grounded soul despite climbing to the absolute peak of the world, he let out a soft breath.
"Alright." He said with a faint smirk. "Just don't wear anything that outshines the groom, hotshot."
"No promises." Regal grinned.
They sat for another half hour, catching up on old neighborhood gossip and reminiscing about the old days.
When Jordan finally stood up to leave, Regal walked him to the suite doors and called over his head of security.
"Rock." Regal instructed. "Take the company sedan and personally drive Jordan back home to his doorstep. Make sure no press follows him."
"Understood, boss." Rock nodded with a slight bow.
Jordan extended a hand, and Regal gripped it firmly, giving him another quick clap on the shoulder–
"See you in three weeks, Boss."
"Don't be late, kid." Jordan said, waving a casual hand before heading down the corridor alongside the towering security chief.
Regal watched him step into the elevator, a fond smile on his face as he walked back toward his desk.
He sat down, completely unaware that outside the studio gates, the entertainment world had already caught fire.
Online media outlets were in absolute pandemonium.
However, those discussions are now not just filled with his Golden Globes and Academy nominations, but also about the identity of the mysterious man Regal had publicly called 'Boss'.
Alas, he wouldn't have minded if it ended there, but also the paparazzi photos that clearly captured the mark Gwendolyn had left, which also became a topic of discussion.
….
Unaware, Regal walked over to his desk.
He sat back in his office chair, preparing himself to make checkup rounds for the final stage of [Train To Catch].
Knock, knock.
Samantha Cross stepped in, holding her tablet under one arm and a fresh stack of trade digests in the other.
"Jordan got out of the building safely?" Regal asked without looking up from his screen. "No press following him?"
"Rock escorted him straight to his front door in the company sedan." Samantha replied smoothly, closing the door behind her–
"Completely clean. But you, on the other hand..."
She stopped at the edge of the desk, tilting her head.
"You might want to take a look at the global entertainment feeds."
"The Oscar nominations?" Regal asked casually. "Twenty one, right? Good showing for the team. Lena and Keanu deserved it."
"Oh, the nominations are dominating the industry trades." Samantha said, tapping her tablet screen. "Celebrations everywhere, Red Pictures is popping champagne, and the trades are calling you a titan. But oddly enough... you aren't trending worldwide for the Oscars."
Regal raised an eyebrow. "Then what for?"
"I got the PR alerts twenty minutes ago." Samantha explained with a wry smile. "I held off because you actually looked relaxed catching up with Jordan for once. But now..."
She slid the tablet across the dark wood, and Regal leaned over and glanced down.
Plastered across the front page of Variety, The Hollywood Reporter, and sitting firmly at the #1 trending spot worldwide was the photograph taken outside the LIE Studios gates less than an hour ago.
The bold headline blared:
[HOLLYWOOD'S EMPEROR CAUGHT OFF-GUARD: WHO IS REGAL SERAPHSAIL'S MYSTERIOUS 'BOSS' - AND WHO LEFT THE MARK?]
The photo was a side by side split–
On the left was Regal enthusiastically waving Jordan over the barricade; on the right was an unapologetic, 200% telephoto zoom-in on Regal's collar as he had turned to hug him.
Regal stared at the high-res crop of his own neck for a couple of seconds.
Then, instead of panicking or groaning in embarrassment, a slow smirk spread across his face.
He leaned back into his chair, utterly unbothered by the tabloid frenzy.
"Hm, I have improved a lot in taking photos." Regal chuckled, casually tapping his fingers on the armrest.
"You certainly did." Samantha agreed.
Buzz–!
His phone vibrated on the desk.
Regal picked it up, and a new message from Gwendolyn popped up on the lock screen:
[Gwen ]:So... how is my punishment feeling right about now, Mr. Director? 😏
[Gwen]:Though honestly... I didn't expect you to pose so confidently for so many cameras. You really don't care, do you?
Regal's smile softened into something deeply fond.
He tapped a quick reply:
[Me]:Why should I? It's a gift from my beloved.
He locked the phone, setting it back on the desk.
Immediately, he looked up at Samantha–
"Call Simon and Darren into the conference room. It's time to lock down the casting calls for Sentinel of Time, and start filming of the Train to Catch."
.
….
[To be continued…]
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