Chapitre 59: Before the film festival

January wrapped its icy fingers around Los Angeles, the promise of a new year already eclipsed by Lucas's relentless schedule. Celebrating on December 31st was a fleeting dream, replaced by the familiar hum of film sets and the constant buzz of his phone. Brief phone calls with Liza, Paul, and Samantha - their voices tinged with festive warmth that felt distant through the crackle of the receiver - were the closest he got to New Year's revelry.

Los Angeles beckoned, a brief pit stop before the Sundance whirlwind. His "Modern Family" cameo was a blink-and-you-miss-it affair - Dylan, perched in front of a laptop, delivering lines that felt more like a voiceover than a physical performance.

The scene, a glimpse into Dylan's digital connection with Haley, didn't necessitate Lucas's presence on set. A few hours, a handful of takes, and the cameo was wrapped.

No need to mingle with the cast, no lingering on the familiar soundstage. Lucas, his schedule a tightly packed puzzle, simply boarded the next plane, the excitement of Sundance already tugging at his focus.

Flight arrangements? Logistics? Lucas could blissfully ignore them. His agency handled the machinery behind the scenes, leaving him free to focus on the exhilarating anticipation of Sundance. This time, his destination wasn't the familiar bustle of New York, but the crisp mountain air and burgeoning energy of Park City, Utah.

The Sundance Film Festival loomed large on the horizon, and Vincent, ever the resourceful agent, awaited his arrival. He'd even orchestrated a surprise – a collaboration with a designer from Dolce & Gabbana to outfit Lucas for the festival's glamorous nights. The news sent a thrill through Lucas.

Lucas couldn't help but be impressed by Vincent's industry finesse.

---

The wheels of the plane kissed the tarmac at Salt Lake City Airport, a gentle sigh escaping Lucas as the engines whined down. He unbuckled, excitement bubbling in his chest as the scent of anticipation hung heavy in the air. The Sundance Film Festival was a mere breath away, and even the sterile airport buzzed with a creative energy. Movie posters plastered the walls, whispers of upcoming premieres danced on the wind, and a palpable sense of artistic camaraderie thrummed beneath the fluorescent lights.

Emerging from the terminal, Lucas hailed a taxi, the crisp mountain air replacing the stale air of the cabin. The drive to Park City was a scenic journey, winding through snow-dusted valleys and revealing glimpses of the town nestled amidst the majestic peaks. Finally arriving at the restaurant, Lucas spotted Vincent at a corner table, a warm smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. A hug, a flurry of greetings, and the air crackled with the promise of the festival's exhilarating chaos.

"Good to see you, champ," Vincent said, his voice tinged with excitement. "Settled in alright?"

Lucas nodded, taking a seat as the menu clattered softly behind them. "As well as one can be in this pre-festival frenzy," he chuckled, glancing around at the energetic murmur of filmmakers and journalists. "So, about the schedule," he began, "we meet the cast and directors closer to the opening, right?"

"Exactly," Vincent replied, stroking his chin. "They'll be trickling in over the next few days. Speaking of directors, I just got off the phone with Boyle. Let me tell you, he's singing your praises! 'Raw talent,' he called you, 'infused the screen with authenticity.' Pretty high expectations, wouldn't you say?"

Lucas couldn't help but grin, a touch of nervousness bubbling beneath the pride. "Sounds like I'd better bring my A-game," he said, then paused, a question bubbling up. "And the whole… fashion designer thing? Really necessary for a newcomer like me?"

Vincent chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "First Sundance? Gotta make a good impression, wouldn't you say? Besides, with Boyle's name attached, you're bound to attract some press eyes. Gotta look the part, eh?"

A wave of heat flooded Lucas's cheeks, a mixture of anticipation and self-consciousness. "Alright, alright," he mumbled, unable to hide a smile. "You win. Let's see what magic my wardrobe team can work."

Vincent's smile widened. "Remember your fashion designer? Big name, Dolce & Gabbana. Get ready to be pampered, champ."

Lucas raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "D&G, huh? When do we meet the designer?"

"Later, after we've fueled up," Vincent replied, gesturing to the half-eaten plates on the table. "You'll need to get used to the clothes over the next few days, fittings and whatnot. But hey, consider it a perk. Now, you look like you could use a rest before diving into designer fittings. Let's grab some dessert and talk about the real work tomorrow."

The meal lingered pleasantly, leaving Lucas feeling satiated and ready for the next step. Vincent, ever the efficient agent, led him to a quiet corner of the hotel lobby. After a brief knock on a specific door, a moment of silence stretched between them. A flicker of doubt crossed Lucas's face. "Are you sure the designer's here?" he inquired, brow furrowed.

Vincent, a picture of calm, simply nodded. Just as he was about to reply, the door creaked open, revealing a woman in her thirties, the assistant to the designer Cary Porter. Her voice, crisp and professional, greeted Vincent with a polite, "Oh, Mr. Smith! I wasn't expecting you this soon."

Vincent chuckled. "We thought we'd catch Mr. Porter early," he winked. "Is he in?"

Before the assistant could reply, a voice like velvet flowed from behind her.

"It's Ms. Porter, Mr. Smith," it purred, undeniably male yet imbued with a theatrical lilt. Lucas watched as a figure emerged from the shadows, a man impeccably tailored and adorned with light makeup.

Lucas watched as a figure emerged from the shadows, a man impeccably tailored and adorned with light makeup.

"Cary Porter, at your service," the figure announced, extending a hand with perfectly-manicured nails. Lucas cautiously shook it, his gaze flickering to Vincent, who offered a quiet, "That's your designer, Cary."

Cary scanned Lucas with the practiced eye of a hawk, his smile tight. "Well, Mr. Smith, I have to say, on the phone I envisioned a celebrity of a slightly... higher profile."

Vincent's smile flickered, but he remained unfazed. "Perhaps I didn't specify. My client is indeed the lead in a Sundance film premiere, quite a promising talent."

Cary's frown deepened. "A lead, yes, but I had pictured some established starlet, not… whoever this is," he huffed, gesturing dismissively towards Lucas.

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Chapitre 60: Arrogance

Park City, Utah, January 2010. Crisp mountain air stung the cheeks of visitors as they hurried through snow-dusted streets, anticipation for the Sundance Film Festival buzzing in the air. Tucked inside a cozy hotel lobby, Lucas, a young actor with nervous excitement thrumming in his veins, stood face-to-face with Cary Porter, a designer from the hallowed halls of Dolce & Gabbana. The tension in the room was palpable.

Cary, impeccably dressed in sleek black, barely concealed a flicker of disdain. Vincent, Lucas's ever-optimistic agent, cleared his throat and offered a conciliatory smile. "Ms. Porter, no need to judge a book by its cover. Lucas might seem like a newcomer, but trust me, he's destined to be superstar." He patted Lucas's shoulder in a silent gesture of encouragement.

In response, Cary and her assistant exchanged a knowing smirk. "A future superstar?" Cary drawled, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Mr. Smith, you have quite the imagination."

Lucas's cheeks flushed crimson, and even Vincent faltered under the icy sarcasm.

Both Lucas and Vincent felt a prickle of discomfort. But Vincent, ever the diplomat, simply smiled. "Humiliation isn't on the agenda, Ms. Porter. We're here for your expertise. Lucas needs a wardrobe worthy of the festival."

Cary's lips curved into a predatory smile. "Of course, Mr. Smith. Let's see if your 'unknown actor' face can carry off D&G."

Cary's private room overflowed with racks of tailored suits, each a testament to sartorial luxury.

Lucas' eyes flickered across the diverse array of men's clothing, hoping to find something fitting for the festival. Then, Cary, a figure cut from ice and velvet, finally deigned to notice Lucas. With a flick of his immaculately manicured wrist, he pulled out a garment. It shimmered, a cascade of sequins catching the light like falling snow. It was an audacious creation, a shimmering fabric woven with threads of gold, more suited to a disco ball than a mountain festival. "Well, how about this?" Cary drawled, his voice sharp as a stiletto. "This one's sure to make you sparkle."

Lucas' smile faltered. Vincent, his agent, a man with a perpetual twinkle in his eye, frowned. "Are you serious, Ms. Porter?" he asked, his voice polite but firm. "A sequined suit in Park City? In January? It seems...impractical for Park City weather, to say the least."

Cary's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Mr. Smith, dressing an unknown face has its challenges. Sometimes, a statement piece is the only way to get noticed."

Lucas felt a prickle of discomfort. "Unknown face, huh?" he said, his voice surprisingly steady. "Every star you dress was once an unknown face, you know."

Cary's smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of irritation. "Quite the philosopher, aren't we?"

Vincent stepped forward, his voice tight. "Ms. Porter, this isn't what we agreed upon. Lucas deserves respect, whether he's on the A-list or not."

Cary threw back his head and laughed, a harsh, discordant sound that grated against the elegant setting. "Respect? Mr. Smith, I entertain stars, not hopefuls. If you brought me at least a C-lister, I might have even bothered. But him? He is yesterday's news before he even made it to the front page." he drawled. "But I haven't the time for existential debates, Mr. Smith. If you need clothes for a D-List actor, there are other designers in town."

Vincent stepped forward, his diplomatic smile now strained. "Ms. Porter, I think we can-"

"I'm afraid my generosity has its limits, Mr. Smith," Cary interrupted, his voice cold as the mountain air. He then turned to Lucas, "We only dress stars, darling. Perhaps try your local thrift store next time."

Lucas and Vincent exchanged a silent glance, a language of shared frustration and simmering defiance. Without a word, they turned and walked out, leaving the designer alone in his glittering, cold world. Lucas knew Cary had tried to break him, to reduce him to a footnote in the grand story of Sundance. But in the face of the designer's disdain, a fire had ignited within him. He might be an unknown face, but he wouldn't let anyone dim his light. This Sundance, he vowed, would be his first step out of the shadows, and he wouldn't need sequins to make him shine.

***

Leaving Cary's icy domain, Vincent cast a concerned glance at Lucas. "I'm so sorry, Lucas," he said, his voice laced with regret. "I didn't expect such...harshness from D&G. Truly disappointing."

Lucas, however, offered a reassuring smile. "No need to apologize, Vincent. Actually, his little tirade made me realize something." He paused, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Maybe I don't need a designer at all."

Vincent raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Lucas, armed with his future knowledge, felt a surge of confidence. He knew about vintage trends making a comeback, about sustainable fashion rising, and about the cool factor of curated thrift store finds. "There's a vintage clothing store in Park City I have in mind. We'll find something unique, something with soul, that fits me better than anything Cary's clothes."

Vincent chuckled, a hint of surprise lingering in his eyes. "A thrift store? You're really taking that designer's advice to heart, aren't you?" he teased, attempting to lighten the mood.

Lucas laughed, the memory of Cary's shimmering monstrosity still fresh. "Oh, I wouldn't be caught dead in anything from his cold, sparkly clutches! Trust me, Vincent, a well-chosen thrift store find will have a hundred times more personality than any overpriced D&G designer Cary's suit." He added, "those sequins Cary was pushing could blind someone in this blizzard."

The memory of the shimmery monstrosity brought a snort out of Vincent. "Right, right," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Blind us and send chills down our spines. Who knew fashion could be so terrifying?"

***

The crisp mountain air swirled around Lucas and Vincent as they navigated the bustling Main Street.

Vintage shops and cozy cafes lined the street, their windows adorned with twinkling fairy lights and quirky mannequins. The scent of roasted coffee and freshly baked pastries mingled with the tang of winter air, creating a sensory feast.

Lucas paused, his gaze drawn to a tucked-away corner storefront.

Stepping through the creaky door, they were greeted by a symphony of scent and texture. Vintage leather jackets hung alongside racks of patterned shirts, faded denim mingled with chunky knit sweaters, and a hatbox.

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