Back To You ?River Phoenix?

(The last chapter on River's 48th B-day. We'll all miss this misguided angel.)

// It had to be some stupid little crush. //

"Hello and welcome to Talent Scout: Chicago, Illinois. How can we be of help."

"I'm looking for a manager?"

The man peered quizzically at me through his glasses lenses, eyes squinted. He wasn't saying anything. The room was quiet except for the other lady at reception who was constantly answering phone calls.

It seemed like he had been staring at me for forever when he gasped and his green eyes got as wide as plates.

"I know you! Your from the soon-to-be iconic coming of age teen drama, Markus Rammel and the Summer Of Senior Year! Lydia Carlton, I presume."

"Y-Yeah, how'd you know?"

He lets out a high pitched chuckle. "That poster behind you."

I twist around in my seat to see the movie poster. I was on Matt's back, and we were turned to the side, smiling at the camera. Johnathan was holding onto my leg and grinning up at me, and our parents were grinning at each other.

"Oh."

"Yeah. You looking for a new agent?"

"I've only had my uncle as an agent, so I guess you could say that I'm looking for my first agent." I laughed.

"Oh, that's totally understandable." He laughed again, pushing the glasses up. "Didn't you just finish filming something?"

"Uh-huh, how'd you know that?"

"I know the director of the film personally. Ah, isn't it funny how the world of film is so large, yet so tightly knit?" He sighed, leaning back in his chair and intertwining his fingers.

"Er, yeah, I guess."

"Well, luckily for you, I'm a well known talent scout."

I raised my eyebrows. Nothing about him was familiar to me. Not his glasses, long and shiny black hair, thick mustache, squinty green eyes. I'd never seen this man in any teen magazine.

"Ever heard of... Gus Browning?"

He then ripped off his hair, mustache, and glasses. I almost screamed, and the lady who was answering phone calls glanced over at us and rolled her eyes.

"You have got to stop doing that, Gus." She muttered in a thick and nasally New York accent. Then she turned to me and said, "Gus here is an LA film agent-"

"Helping budding stars bloom!" Gus shouts, putting his hands out in front of him.

"Yes..." she growls, wrinkling her nose, "And he came here on the notion that-"

"The talents in LA are raw. Raw and ratchet."

The lady sighs, centering her silver bun. "So he decided to come over to Chicago to look for fresh stars in the film industry. Therefo—"

"And you, Miss Carlton, happen to be the perfect type person. Fresh meat- must just barely seasoned. Perfect to throw straight into the burning hellish oven of film."

I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out. I was merely sitting there with my mouth moving for the longest two seconds of my life.

"I work for free. So what do you say, C?"

"S-Sure."

And just like that, I had an agent. A spontaneous visionary of an agent.

As I left the building with his business card, he told me that he'd be on the lookout for auditions that he thought would suit me. I gave him my home phone and he gave me his, and I was off.