[Morning] [Hotel] [Day Off from shoot]
Jack woke at exactly five in the morning, despite having absolutely nowhere he needed to be.
His eyes opened before the alarm could ring, and for several seconds, he remained completely still beneath the blankets while staring into the darkness with quiet resentment. His body felt rested enough to run several miles, film an action sequence, and probably survive another zombie attack before breakfast.
His mind felt like somebody had stuffed it with wet laundry.
Jack slowly reached toward the nightstand, grabbed his phone, and checked the time through half-open eyes.
5:01 AM.
"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered as he dropped the phone beside his pillow.
He closed his eyes again and tried to force himself back to sleep. His thoughts immediately started moving through everything he had done during the previous week. The apartment scenes, Penny's zombie sequence, the grocery store shoot, the location changes, the late-night script revisions, and the final chapter of Fantastic Beasts all began replaying inside his head without permission.
After five minutes of unsuccessful negotiation with his own brain, Jack pushed the blankets aside and dragged himself toward the bathroom.
He brushed his teeth while leaning one hand against the counter, staring at his reflection as if the exhausted person in the mirror had personally offended him. His hair stood in several directions, and his eyes didn't even look reddish despite the fact that he had slept for six hours or so after a long day's shoot.
The hot shower helped his muscles relax, though it did very little for the mental fog pressing behind his forehead. He stayed beneath the water longer than necessary, letting the steam fill the bathroom while he considered spending his entire day off without speaking to another human being.
That plan lasted until he remembered Haley.
Jack finished his shower, dried himself, and pulled on a clean, fluffy robe before walking back into the bedroom. He reached the bed, fell face-first across it, and buried his face in the pillow.
"Ohhhhh, my habit of waking up at five. Fuck!" he groaned into the fabric while his arms stretched uselessly across the bed.
His mind begged for another five minutes of sleep, though his body had apparently decided that sleep was an outdated concept meant for weaker people.
Jack remained sprawled across the mattress for another ten minutes, shifting occasionally as he searched for a position that might trick his brain into shutting down. Every attempt failed, and the silence eventually became more irritating than restful.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
"If I can't sleep, there's no point staying cooped up inside," he said as he pushed himself upright with visible reluctance. "Fucking super stamina."
Jack changed into dark sweatpants, a soft gray shirt, and a lightweight jacket before slipping his phone, wallet, and room key into his pockets. He left the room and took the elevator downstairs.
The hotel lobby was almost empty at that hour. A receptionist quietly worked behind the front desk, while two crew members crossed the lobby carrying coffee cups and speaking in tired whispers. Jack gave them a small wave before following the smell of fresh bread toward the hotel restaurant.
The restaurant had only recently opened, and the room remained quiet except for the low sound of silverware being arranged behind the counter. Early sunlight entered through the large windows, stretching across the empty tables and polished floor.
Jack chose a table near the window, far enough from the entrance that passing guests were less likely to notice him. He sat down heavily, rested his arms against the table, and stared outside while his mind continued moving through unfinished thoughts he didn't have the energy to follow.
A server approached with a menu and placed it in front of him.
"Good morning, sir. Would you like coffee or juice while you decide?"
"Coffee and orange juice, please," Jack answered quietly as he opened the menu. "I'll also have scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes with strawberries, hash browns, and a bowl of fruit."
The server wrote down the order without commenting on its size. "I'll bring the drinks out first."
"Thank you," Jack replied before returning his attention to the window.
Once she walked away, he placed his phone face down beside the menu. There were already notifications waiting for him, though he didn't feel ready to read production updates, entertainment headlines, fan reactions, or messages about the final Fantastic Beasts chapter.
He wanted silence, warm food, and enough time for his thoughts to stop tripping over each other.
The coffee arrived first. Jack wrapped both hands around the cup and took a slow sip, letting the heat settle through him while the restaurant gradually came to life around him. A few guests entered and chose tables near the buffet. Two members of the lighting crew sat near the opposite wall, though they offered Jack nothing more than a tired nod.
He appreciated that.
His breakfast arrived several minutes later, filling most of the table. Jack thanked the server and began eating slowly. He wasn't rushing toward a call time, a wardrobe fitting, a rehearsal, or another production meeting. For the first time in more than a week, nobody was waiting for him to finish.
...
By the time Jack finished breakfast, the sky outside had brightened into a pale blue, and the quiet streets around the hotel had started coming alive. He returned to his room, changed into running shoes, and stepped outside at 5:55 with the intention of taking a short jog before spending the rest of the morning doing absolutely nothing.
As he reached the edge of the hotel entrance, he noticed someone stretching near the walkway.
Richard stood beside one of the stone planters in a dark tracksuit, pulling one arm across his chest while shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His hair was slightly disheveled, and he looked far less formal without the expensive suit and watch.
Jack slowed as he approached him. "Hey, Dad. I never knew you jogged."
Richard glanced over and continued stretching his shoulder. "I started a few weeks ago. I've put on a little weight, and I don't have enough time to go to the gym regularly, so I try to squeeze in as much running as I can before my day starts."
Jack looked him over with mild disbelief. "You don't look like you've gained any weight."
"That's because I own expensive suits and know how to stand properly," Richard replied as he bent forward and touched his shoes. "Your mother noticed, which means the situation has already reached the point where denial is useless."
Jack smiled slightly and began stretching beside him. "Guess you're dieting too?"
"I'm trying," Richard said as he straightened. "Less bread, fewer late-night meals, and no desserts during the week... no beer. Your mother created an entire schedule for me."
"That sounds hard."
"It's unbearable," Richard admitted as he checked the time on his watch. "Yesterday, I watched Christopher eat cheesecake during a meeting and briefly considered ending our professional relationship."
Jack shook his head with a quiet smile, then stepped toward the pavement. "Mind if I join you?"
Richard gave him a careful look. "I thought you were planning to sleep until noon."
"So did I, but my body woke me up at five, and I can't sleep."
"You were working past midnight," Richard said as they started jogging at an easy pace. "I saw the light under your room's door when I returned from the production office."
Jack adjusted his breathing as they passed the first row of trees beside the hotel. "I was finishing the last chapter of Fantastic Beasts. The release was already delayed, and I didn't want my editor waiting any longer."
Richard's expression tightened with concern. "You spent the entire day filming, came back to the hotel, and wrote until midnight?"
"I finished around one."
"That doesn't improve the situation."
"I slept," Jack said as they turned onto the wider sidewalk leading away from the hotel. "Six hours is enough for me."
Richard glanced toward him while maintaining the same steady pace. "Enough to function and enough to stay healthy aren't always the same thing."
Jack looked ahead at the nearly empty street. A delivery truck moved slowly through the intersection while the city continued waking around them. "I feel fine physically. My brain's a little tired, though."
"That's exactly what concerns me."
They jogged in silence for a short distance. Richard's breathing remained controlled, although Jack noticed that he was pacing himself carefully. The morning air still carried a little coolness, and the trees along the sidewalk cast long shadows across the pavement.
Richard finally spoke again as they crossed a quiet side street. "You've been doing too much lately."
Jack kept his eyes forward. "The film's on schedule."
"I'm not talking only about the film," Richard said. "You're acting, producing, finishing a novel, reviewing edits, and keeping track of your other commitments. You barely stop moving."
"I've handled worse schedules."
"That doesn't mean you should keep testing how much you can endure."
Jack breathed out slowly as they passed a small park. "I'm not trying to prove anything. I just don't like leaving things unfinished."
Richard nodded, though his concern remained visible. "That quality has helped you build an extraordinary career. It can also become dangerous when you start treating rest like something you need to earn."
Jack glanced at him. "I do rest."
"You rest when everything else is finished," Richard replied. "Your work is never going to be completely finished. There will always be another chapter, another film, another meeting, or another idea waiting for your attention."
Jack didn't answer immediately.
Richard's words stayed with him as they continued down the path. He knew his father wasn't exaggerating. Even during his free time, his mind rarely stopped working. A quiet afternoon could become a writing session. A day off could disappear beneath notes, revisions, and plans before he realized it had started.
"I like working," Jack said eventually. "It doesn't always feel exhausting while I'm doing it."
"I know," Richard replied. "That makes it harder to realize when you've reached your limit."
Jack looked toward the road as a few cars passed them. "You think I'm overworking myself."
"I think you're nineteen and carrying the responsibilities of someone twice your age," Richard said. "You're capable of handling them, but capability doesn't make you indestructible."
Jack gave a small nod as they reached the park entrance. Richard slowed slightly, and Jack matched his pace without commenting.
Richard continued after taking a deeper breath. "Your mother and I are proud of everything you're doing. I hope you understand that. We don't need you to keep succeeding every single day to justify that pride."
"I know you don't."
"Do you really believe that?"
Jack looked at him, caught off guard by the question.
Richard kept jogging as he waited for an answer. There was no accusation in his voice, only the careful concern of a father who had been watching his son climb higher without knowing where the climb might end.
Jack looked down at the pavement for a moment. "Most of the time."
Richard nodded slowly. "What about the rest of the time?"
Jack took a breath and considered lying. The answer would've been easy. He could say everything was fine, smile, and move the conversation toward the production schedule. Richard would probably recognize the avoidance, but he wouldn't force the issue.
Instead, Jack answered honestly. "Sometimes I worry that everything could disappear if I slow down."
Richard's expression softened.
Jack continued before he could reconsider. "Life feels strange sometimes. The movies, the books, the money, the opportunities, all of it happened so quickly. I know I worked for it, but part of me keeps expecting someone to tell me the whole thing was just an illusion."
Richard slowed to a walk, and Jack followed beside him. They moved along the outer path of the park while the early sunlight filtered through the trees.
"You think stopping for a few days will make people forget you?" Richard said.
"Maybe," Jack admitted. "Or I'll lose momentum. Someone else will take the opportunity, the audience will move on, or I'll make one bad decision and everything I built will start falling apart."
Richard remained quiet for several seconds. "Success can make you feel safe and terrified at the same time. You finally have everything you wanted, so you start treating every quiet moment like an opening for someone to take it away."
Jack looked toward him. "You've felt that way?"
"Many times," Richard answered. "When the company started growing, I worked constantly because I believed every missed call could cost us something. I told myself I was protecting the family, but I was also afraid that slowing down would expose how little control I actually had."
Jack remembered what Richard had said in Miami about the years when work had created distance between them. The regret still appeared in his father's expression whenever he discussed that part of their lives.
"What changed?" Jack asked.
"I realized the company could survive without my attention for a few hours," Richard replied. "My family shouldn't have been expected to do the same."
Jack looked ahead as they continued walking. The path curved around a small pond where two ducks moved quietly through the water.
Richard placed a hand briefly on Jack's shoulder. "You're building a career, Jack. Don't let it consume the life the career is supposed to support."
Jack nodded. "Haley says something similar sometimes."
"She's smart."
"She'll enjoy hearing you say that."
"She's always been smart," Richard said. "She simply spent years surrounded by people who noticed her mistakes more often than her strengths. Except for her dad..." He gave a little nod. "Phil was the only one who trusted her and noticed her strength."
Jack smiled faintly. "She's doing well at the boutique."
"I know. I've seen the sales reports."
Jack turned toward him. "You check her sales reports?"
"It's one of our stores, and she's important to you," Richard replied. "Of course I check."
Jack looked genuinely pleased. "She sold a dress last month that had been sitting there for almost a year."
"The silver gown," Richard said. "Her manager wrote an entire note about how she handled the client. She didn't sell the fabric. She sold confidence."
"That sounds like Haley."
"It does," Richard agreed. "She has good instincts with people, which is something you can't teach easily."
They reached the far side of the pond and started jogging again, keeping the pace lighter than before. Jack felt some of the pressure in his head begin to loosen. The conversation hadn't solved everything, though the thoughts no longer felt as tangled.
After several minutes, Richard looked toward him again. "What are you planning to do today?"
"Nothing important."
"Try again."
Jack chuckled. "I said to myself that I'll be lazing around... But I was going to review the revised shooting schedule, look over the Fantastic Beasts edits when they come back, and maybe start outlining another project."
Richard gave him a flat look.
Jack sighed. "Or, I could follow the original plan and take the day off."
"You should take the day off."
"Alright, Dad."
They took a seat on a nearby bench.
Just then, Jack's phone rang twice. It's a text. He took out his phone and checked.
...
Dear Mr. Preston,
I hope this message finds you well.
On behalf of everyone at GQ, I would like to extend an invitation for you to appear as the cover star of our September 2012 issue.
Over the past few years, your performances have established you as one of Hollywood's most exciting young actors. Your work has resonated with audiences worldwide, and your growing influence both on and off the screen makes you an ideal choice for a feature celebrating the next generation of leading men.
The feature would include:
A cover shoot photographed by Selina Lance
An exclusive 8-page fashion editorial
An in-depth interview discussing your career, upcoming projects, and life in Hollywood
Digital promotion across GQ's online and social media platforms
We understand you are currently in production on your latest film. To accommodate your schedule, we would be happy to arrange the shoot on one of the following dates:
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Monday, September 10, 2012
The shoot will take place at Milk Studios, Los Angeles, and is expected to last approximately eight hours, including wardrobe fittings and interview sessions. Our fashion team will coordinate directly with your representatives regarding styling, transportation, and any production requirements.
We believe this feature will introduce readers to the person behind the performances while celebrating your remarkable rise in Hollywood. We are excited about the opportunity to work with you and hope your schedule allows you to join us.
Please let us know your availability at your earliest convenience. Our editorial and production teams will gladly coordinate with your management to finalize all details.
Thank you for your time and consideration. We look forward to hearing from you.
Warm regards,
Emily CarterSenior Features EditorGQ Magazine750 Third AvenueNew York, NY 10017[email protected](212) 555-0187
...