Anthony woke up in a sweat. His breath was short and he was in a foul mood. He felt like he wanted to cry, and after minutes of trying not to he shed his tears and let them flow and didn't bother to keep track of how long he did this. After he had cried as much as he could, he stood up, walked to the bedroom and prepared to go to bed, the mundane ( Read more... )

To say that Anthony was a criminal mastermind would be to delude yourself. Anthony was just a producer, and being a producer he was quite familiar with plots. He had formed one on the way back to Los Angeles, down to the detail, and was ready to start Act One ( Read more... )

The snow fell thickly on the New Hampshire home where Anthony stopped his rental car. Hand clutched on the book in the passenger's chair, Anthony remained seated, closed his eyes, and tried to hold back uneccessary tears. There was no reason to cry, no reason to be afraid--except that he was about to act upon a decision that would change his life ( Read more... )

Tony was utterly useless for the rest of the day. His mind wandered relentlessly to ranges he could not reach; after Jack insinuated he had something to do with Teri's death, after Jack pinned him to the wall and kissed him like he was some prison bitch, how could he focus? Just how awful could this world be? Did it get any worse than this? Tony ( Read more... )

A movie producer.

He was, in this foreign world, a movie producer. He could fathom this as well as he could fathom the mechanisms of the cinematic industry. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, in layman's terms. What had made his situation most unbearable was the peculiar arrangement of his marriage. He had not seen Michelle when he awoke, ( Read more... )

It’s been a busy day on the set ( Read more... )

But where he winds up isn't the CSI: Las Vegas crime lab. It's a wide office, sort of like the one seen in Who Framed Roger Rabbit: cream colored carpet, cream colored walls, low lighting, expensive furniture and a large desk sitting at the back of the room. For starters, it sure wasn't Grissom's bug-infested domain ( Read more... )

There is a book that exists in the AU world called "Three Days in Rome." It is written by Greg House. The story is about a successful executive named Charlotte who takes a short vacation in Rome, where she encounters an old flame of hers. Yadda yadda, blah blah, they reconcile, live happily ever after, the end. The book is widely considered to be a ( Read more... )

The strange woman posing as Michelle Dessler in this world had dragged him kicking and screaming to yet another fun filled night at the club. The lights were low and the seats were red. Tony thought he would develop instant lung cancer from all the smoke hanging in the air. He took a seat at an empty booth and sighed, hoping "Chelles" wouldn't keep ( Read more... )

Far be it from him to understand why a film producer needed to be in a recording studio, but he had received enough calls that said on no uncertain terms to be at the studio. So he sat, irritably, in a chair outside the recording room, flipping through that day's newspaper.