Autumn Passing

Chapter One

Why bother tyring to save this world gone wrong

Tip your hat, raise your glass, and say 'so long.' 

 When I get bored at parties, I stand in the corner of the room and think of ways I could kill myself with only the objects in the room.

I’m at one of these parties right now – a boring run of the mill office party that I was going to skip out on but Eric, my best friend and co-worker practically dragged me out of my apartment to get me here. I don’t want to be here, I would much rather be at home watching the game on television than watching the fake smiles and happiness that everyone doesn’t have for each other.

Nobody cares that the boss’s wife is pregnant, but they all stand around her and coo and talk to her stomach as if the kid gives a damn that some random underling is saying how he’s going to be as wonderful as his daddy.

What a bunch of brownnosers.

One immaculately dressed woman steps into the room, all four inches of stilettos’, miles and miles of fake tan and a sparkly red dress that looks like it came straight from Satan’s Christmas tree. She’s carrying a black clutch that has sharp edges and I find myself imagining running the pointy border across my wrists. I’m sure if I bled all over her, it would make a difference. My blood would blend in with her dress and no one would be the wiser.

I’m usually not this dark, but when it comes to generic holiday music, standard niceties, and the run of the mill bullshit that occurs, I just want to run into a butter knife over and over again.

The immaculately dressed woman laughs loudly and throws her head back. Her French twist doesn’t move an inch and I wonder how long it took her to make it stay like that. A nuclear bomb could go off and I don’t think her hair would fall out of place.

A nuclear bomb…I wonder if there’s one in this room.

The mail clerk looks fat enough to conceal a weapon of mass destruction. Maybe we can nip the War on Terror in the butt right now.

“Justin, you having a good time?” Eric questions as he sidles up next to me with a beer in each hand. I grab the one he offers me and take a huge swig of the stuff. Anything to numb me so I don’t have to deal with the fake, smiling faces. I try to hide rolling my eyes as he waves hello to Sally, one of our co-workers on our floor who is currently flailing her left hand around violently so the diamond ring on her finger will catch in the light. I silently wonder if I could kill myself by poking my eyes out with the emerald cut engagement ring that’s been sparkling like the fucking New Year’s Eve Ball in Times Square.

A woman’s chain necklace glows across the dance floor. I could easily hang myself with it by tying it to the disco ball in the center of the room. How’s that for some holiday entertainment.

I’m about to give Eric some lame ass excuse to get the hell away from all the people when our boss – the elusive and yet always looming Mr. Nigel Burns glides over to stand beside us.

“Eric! Justin! I haven’t spoken to you all night! I hope things are going well?” Eric and I both know to take this as a rhetorical question since Burns isn’t going to shut the hell up for another twenty minutes. “I wanted to talk to you about the Van Hossmere contract. We really need to get them to renew with us when their contract ends…”

I immediately tune him out and look out across the room. We have one of these lame ass Christmas parties every year. Burns manages to get some nice conference room booked in a nice hotel in the nice part of Los Angeles. Nice, nice, nice.  He hires a catering service, if we’re lucky enough a good DJ, and a killer sound system so he can make drunken toasts close to the end of the party.

My eyes land on Lisa Compton, one of the new assistant agents. She’s leaning against the table where some of the appetizers and drinks are set up. This is her first Christmas party and she’ll learn not to wear those kind of low cut tops around for these parties. Even now I want to stride across the room and push my face in between her enormous cleavage. Maybe, just maybe, I can smother myself to death before anyone registers that I’m committing sexual harassment in the workplace.

“…so you need to make sure that Paramount won’t give Van Hossmere shit when it comes to landing a good deal on the picture…” Burns’s voice is getting louder and he’s drawing more people into our little three-person triangle.

It’s quickly becoming a small mob and I really don’t want to have people ask me my opinion on some of the newer clients or what I have in store for our more veteran actors and writers.

Working for Burns Agency for the past six years has been a trying task, but I’m one of the senior agents and some consider me to be Nigel’s right hand man. If I was seated at the right hand of the boss then Eric was most definitely on the left. Our grunt work helped Nigel put his fledgling agency on the map – especially after Angelina and Brad moved over after their old agencies advised against them adopting another kid from another country. We managed to tell them that we didn’t give a fuck if they adopted the whole world; their personal life was their business and we wouldn’t shove ourselves into it unless it screwed up their projects or the kids were getting abused or neglected.

If you’ve ever met Brangelina (which you probably haven’t) you know the abuse and neglect would never, ever happen.

“And I’d just like to congratulate you Justin, now that we have more ears listening, for helping Robert Downey Junior to make a stunning comeback in his career…” I closed my eyes and looked down at my feet as everyone began to applaud. Congratulatory slaps on the back knocked the wind out of me for a moment and I gave Eric a pleading look. If there’s one thing I hate more than anything else in the world it’s a shit ton of attention.

As long as I get my cut of the money when I land a client a deal, I won’t complain. The attention is something I don’t really care for. Being one of the most powerful agent’s in Hollywood – sure that’d be something to put on the resume, but I don’t want to be made partner in Nigel’s firm – that would be Eric’s gig.

I continue to throw Eric pathetic looks and he finally draws attention away from me by announcing to the whole group that he has a fantastic story about the day when one of his star clients – a teen heartthrob – called him up from jail because he had been arrested for doing something inappropriate with a Satsuma. Using this opportunity, I duck away and walk towards the far corner of the room.

The amount of people shoved into this medium sized convention room is really starting to get to me. The musky smell of perfume and cologne trying to mask body odor is permeating and making me nauseous and I suddenly wish I had turned down Eric’s offer of beer. Everything is suffocating and I can either allow myself to be smothered to death, or I can go get some fresh air.

Opting for the later, I make a beeline for the giant double doors and out into the hallway. I walk straight past the elevators and open the door for the stairs. I know if I go to the bottom floor I’ll just end up leaving the hotel and I don’t want to do that just yet. Besides, my coat is still in the coatroom and I don’t want to leave it behind – it’s very expensive.

Instead, I opt to head on up to the roof of the building. I start to climb up the two stories that will take me to the eighth and top floor of this rather ritzy hotel. I’m not going to stay up there long, I just want some fresh air and some time to clear my head.

I reach the top of the stairs and easily find the door that will take me out onto the roof. Taking a breath I let my hand fold around the handle and push it open before stepping outside.

 The night is chilly but not overly cold for a December Christmas party. At once I can see the lights from faraway buildings twinkling just at the horizon of the building’s ledge. One spot is blacked out, however, by a small figure sitting on the ledge, staring out at the landscape.

She turns around slightly to see who is behind her and I guess she doesn’t see me as a threat because she turns back to gaze out over the city. Without saying a word, I stand next to her and let my hands spread out across the ledge. Out of the corner of my eye I see her take in a breath and turn to face me. “You didn’t like the party either?”

I’ve never seen this woman in my life, and judging by her dress – black pants, white tuxedo shirt, brown hair pulled back into a ponytail – she’s a member of the catering staff. I try to ignore the goose bumps rising on her arms and I wish I had a coat or jacket to offer her; she’s on the borderline of shaking and chattering her teeth.

“It’s okay,” I start tentatively, “I don’t really like it when people over crowd me…”

“Oh you don’t have to tell me twice. I don’t care much for crowds. I keep asking myself why I keep this job.”

“I’m Justin Timberlake,” I interject and hold out a hand. She looks at my face, her brown eyes dull and calculating taking me in. Biting her lip, she looks down at my outstretched hand and shifts her weight a bit to take my hand in hers.

“Autumn Weaver,” she responds, “so are you one of those big wig agents responsible for making millions of dreams come true for the talented and overly exposed?”

I lean the upper half of my body against the ledge, my hands dangling over the side of the building. She’s making me nervous sitting on the ledge, her feet swinging back and forth in the dead space in front of us. I feel like she’s going to catapult her self off at any moment.

“I guess you could say that. I mean I’ve been with the agency a long time and I like what I do. It gets the bills paid,” I add with a shrug. I find it kind of strange that I’ve known this Autumn Weaver for all of three minutes and we’re already talking like we’ve known each other for years. But the way she’s biting her lip and looking out towards the horizon with her dark eyes scanning for something makes me want to know her better – to understand why the hell she’s up here.

“So you enjoy it then?” she questions and I look over at her to see that she’s inspecting her fingernails. I notice they’re painted black.

“Sure. I like making people happy,” I stress hoping she’ll realize that if she really wants to I can help put a smile on her face that doesn’t look tortured or forced, “I guess I like doing positive things in my life.”

“To tell you the truth I don’t know what to do with my life anymore.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask a bit shocked. I didn’t expect the conversation to turn so quickly down a somewhat dark path. A path that seems really ominous.

“I’m at a dead end there’s no way out.”

The alarm bells are going off in my head and I want to turn around and go grab someone to help me talk this girl off of the ledge. Because it’s starting to dawn on me that she could really jump and I am having a hard time knowing that right now I’m the only person who is responsible for her safety.

“You could always go into reverse,” I try hoping to lighten the mood. Maybe if she laughs she’ll come to her senses, the darkness that’s haunting her face will disperse and we can go maybe get some coffee and she can tell me about her troubles.

There’s a long pause before Autumn opens her mouth to speak, “It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is. If it’ll help I can make the beeping sounds as you back up so people can hear you coming,” I add with a small chuckle. 

“Nobody cares if I come or go.” God her voice sounds so empty – void of any emotion. Even though I don’t really know her, it’s breaking my heart.

“Do you have anyone you could call? Family?”

“I don’t know if they’d care I’m up here. They’ve got their own problems to worry about. I don’t want to be another one.” She stops dangling her legs and pulls them up against her chest. Maybe if I move fast I can grab her by the shoulders and pull her off the side of the building. Then again if I’m caught off balance she could get free and leap.

This is why I would never really work out well in hostage situations.

“But you’re family; you’re supposed to stick together,” I exclaim. If I were ever in Autumn’s situation you can bet that if someone called my Mama she’d be over here in a heartbeat holding me and telling me everything will be okay.

“You sounded like my sister just then.” I can’t tell what the emotion in her voice but it seems that her sister bears some importance to Autumn and it’s a lead I can possibly use to coerce her from the ledge.

“Why don’t you call her?”

“No,” she says forcefully.

“Why not?” I ask right back.

“Because she’s fucking annoying and perfect and everything that I’m not. She’d look at me up here and judge me. No way in hell am I calling April.”

Okay so that was a dead end. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone so vehemently push away a family member before. Then again most of my friends have really good relationships with their siblings and would probably turn to them in a pinch instead of a parent. I want to ask if her sister is the source of all these problems but I can tell that she’s closed the subject and I don’t want to push my luck.

“Well why don’t we go somewhere and get coffee? It’s cold up here and you don’t want to get sick,” I coax.

“I’m already sick. If you’re cold, you go ahead inside Mr. Agent Man. I’ll stick it out up here.” She’s closing me off and I don’t like that she’s dismissing me like this. I’ve dealt with the toughest movie studios in the world and I’m able to get my clients multi-million dollar deals. If there’s one thing I can do it’s persuade, persuade, persuade.

I don’t leave. I stay with her and hope she realizes that a curt dismissal isn’t going to get rid of me so easily.

“So I take it you’re staying?” I can feel a hint of disappointment but also a speck of gratitude in her voice, which allows me to think that I’m making some headway in this whole thing.

“Until you come back in with me.”

Autumn turns to look at me with a sad smile on her face before she lets her face rest on her knees. We don’t say anything for a really long time. I’m starting to think she’s ignoring me until I go away but suddenly she draws in a big sigh and lets her legs drop away from her and over the side of the building

“It’s funny, really. It’s almost like you’re sitting on the edge of the world up here. You can’t really fathom that just below you the world moves on and there are people breathing and walking and talking and crying, laughing, dying beneath you. All those cars have people in it going home, going to work, going somewhere. And yet we’re up here watching it all – kind of like God. I always wonder where He is, you know? I don’t mean to get all philosophical on you, Justin, but here I am…on this ledge and I’m waiting to feel something. All I feel is numb.”

“That could just be the cold…” her monologuing is making me nervous and I don’t like how serious this conversation is getting. I’m getting really uncomfortable, but I refuse to back down and there’s no way in hell I’m going to leave this woman alone.

Why the hell did I leave my cell phone in my jacket pocket? I could have called someone up here to help me and assess this situation. Right now I’m feeling just as small as Autumn is.

“No that isn’t it. I can’t even feel that right now. I don’t know…how do you explain nothing?”

“I don’t mean to sound like a smart ass, but I’ve got nothing for you.” I watch as she cracks a smile and looks down at the quivering hands in her lap.

“I have a feeling that I’d like you a lot,” she says her smile furtive and yet alluring all at the same time.

 “You could get the chance,” I implore and I want nothing more than to reach out and touch her, to let her know that she isn’t the only one feeling small. Just fifteen minutes ago I was trying to figure out how to kill myself with someone’s engagement ring. Then, I meant it as a joke – now I realize it isn’t so funny.

“I’ve taken a lot of chances, Justin. And I don’t want to take anymore.”

It seems as if the night has gone on mute as we gaze at the tiny and yet vast world of Los Angeles. I look down at the ground eight stories below trying to think of what to say to this woman to make her realize that there are things to live for and that nothing is completely hopeless.

Looking up, I move to meet her gaze but all I’m greeted with is the empty space of where Autumn had been sitting. A whisper of a breeze catches my cheek and guides my face to look back down the front façade of the hotel.

My horrified eyes never leave Autumn’s peaceful ones as she falls like a sack of golden leaves to the crisp grassy lawn below.