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- [00:01]
Dylan Mulvaney
Hi, is this an okay time? It's your girl, Dylan Mulvaney and I am inviting you to my weekly cocktail party and my brand new podcast, the Dylan Hour, brought to you by Lemonada Media. Life is stressful and there is so much darkness in the world. I think we could all use a little bit of trans joy. So join me every week as I interview some of my favorite A list, celebrity friends and gurus, and of course the dolls. While we sip and split, spill the scalding hot tea. So put your worries aside and join me at the Dylan Hour. Listen to the Dylan Hour making its debut March 19. You can listen on Apple, YouTube or wherever you get your podcasts. Love ya.
- [00:41]
Sash Bischoff
Lemonade It's a long standing joke in Hollywood that they love to make movies about the movies, and those movies about the movies often win the big movie awards. Think of the artist singing in the Rain, Sunset Boulevard, the Player, La La Land. I could go on as it turns out, this trend extends to the literary world. From the Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo to Siren Queen to the Three Lives of Kate K and a ton of girl meets movie star rom coms, the glamour of Hollywood is just a creatively rich setting, and sometimes these stories offer a look at the darker side of fame. Sweet Fury, the new thriller by Sash Bischoff, definitely comes with a heavy dose of both Hollywood glamour and shocking darkness. It tells the story of actress Lila Crane, a beloved movie star who teams up with filmmaker fiance to adapt F. Scott Fitzgerald's Tender as the Night with a modern feminist twist. As the project progresses, Lila sees a therapist to help her dig into the trauma of her past, and before long, things spill over into her work in unexpected ways. With references to the MeToo movement and the commercial side of filmmaking, the book dives deep not only into Lila's character, but Hollywood's character as a whole. When most people think of F. Scott Fitzgerald, they immediately think of the Great Gatsby, and that classic certainly gets plenty of attention here. However, the focus on Tender is the Night provides for all these interesting parallels between the onstage and off screen action, as well as providing some initial bonding moments between Lila and her therapist Jonah, who's also a fan of the work. The first chapter of the book is structured as notes from Jonah's therapy session with Lila, an interesting literary device that recurs occasionally throughout the novel. Bischoff is a fan of Fitzgerald's work, but she also recognizes its shortcomings and potential misogyny, and she said that Sweet Fury is a way to interrogate his body of work as well as understanding how it was a product of its time. This audiobook is read by the author, an award winning actress and stage director who knows the ins and outs of the acting world. This is her first novel, which she began writing at the beginning of the COVID pandemic, when theaters went dark. Today we'll be sharing with you the Prologue, Chapter one, also known as Session one Between Lila and Jonah and Chapter two.
- [02:56]
Lila Crane
Prologue. She stands there in the aftermath, trapped behind a wall of glass in a silent, seismic horror. Outside, dawn is just beginning its pearl, the sky over the Hudson a blooming bruise, skin of the water slate to silver, fingers of fog curling in the world, a milky calm still unmarred by the carnage within. But she knows nothing will ever be the same again. Her stunned gaze travels down to her dress, stippled darkly with red, her innocent hands somehow sticky with blood. So much blood everywhere, so terribly bright. Her stomach swills, she can't think of it. She takes in the surviving remnants of the devastated room, the black book, the apocalyptic painting, the gold mask with its unseeing eyes, the knife beyond the glass. The clouds shift and the blade flashes, blinding. She won't look at the slump of flesh on the floor, puddles still spreading, the sick within her rising. No, she must put a stop to it, once and for all. He's turned towards the balcony, backlit against the horizon's slow swell, one foot lunging before the other in a runner's stance as though it might be any other morning, as though he might simply go for a jog, return with a coffee steaming in the early chill. In the distance. One by one, the green lights of the shore beyond begin to blink out. She must act quickly. Time is running out and she's still in mortal danger. She presses her palms to her ears, forces her focus to the sound of that soothing inner swirl, draws within herself a plucked chord, singing to stillness. Breathes. She opens her eyes, unlocks her phone, and then she places the call. Please help me, she whispers, and the tears begin to stream. Someone's been stabbed. He's. Oh God, I think he's dead. Act 1 Intimate Revelations Private Notes of Jay Gabriel Patient L. Crane Date Time June 10 10:30am Session 1 New Blood Today famous film actress Lila Crane almost didn't accept intake. Nearly a year since I've had space for new patients, it wasn't familiar with Elle's work. But when I learned of her current project and that our time together likely brief, my interest piqued. First session, Elle entered office, eagerly extending her hand was initially taken aback. Had expected withheld sophisticated star from her open guileless manner. Would never have guessed Elle an American icon. I offered tea. She accepted mentioned I had come highly recommended from Brielle, close friend of hers. Elle quick to establish presence in space, slipped off shoes tucked into couch corner. Presented as relaxed, self assured seemed almost unaware of therapeutic frame. As I prepared kettle, Elle said she'd noticed diplomas in hall. She too went to Princeton for undergrad. We calculated I was 3 years her senior so must have overlapped a year though neither had known the other surprise I hadn't heard famous actress in attendance but Elle explained hadn't acted professionally till after college. Seemed important to Elle to connect over our shared background eating clubs, etc. I asked if comfortable working together despite commonality. Elle said she was Elle embarking on new film feminist adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald's Tender as the Night directed by Elle's long term boyfriend Kurt Royal, his name I knew Elle, also a producer and will play leading role Nicole Diver. Here I confessed personal interest. Fitzgerald, not only fellow Princetonian, also my favorite author, pointed out bookshelves dedicated to his work and at this Elle lit up Told Elle Fitzgerald had written film treatment for Tender but his version never made it sounds like you're a real expert. I'm embarrassed to admit I'm still such a neophyte. Before this I'd only read Gatsby said while Gatsby overexposed. Nevertheless my favorite. Read it every year. I can't believe my luck. It'll be so wonderful to have your guidance as I dig into his work. Interested in Elle's response to my knowledge of Fitzgerald. Does Elle need me to be an authority figure? To feel a sense of security? How will Elle respond in moments when I let her down or get it wrong? Something disarming about Elle. Relationally I was engaging in self disclosure more than usual. Wondered at Elle's subtle lack of awareness of boundaries, an adaptive coping strategy, sense of entitlement or need for control or simply good initial rapport and sign of strong therapeutic alliance. Curious what drew Elle to adaptation? What personal resonance Elle felt in Tender specifically. All quoted conversation transcribed directly from pre authorized session recordings. I think my answer lies in the thesis of our film. What makes our adaptation different from the novel? Spoke carefully as I'm sure you know, Tender is typically read as Dick Diver's tragic downfall due in large part to his patient Nicole. Nicole is considered vampiric in Fitzgerald's early outlines. Her schizophrenia even triggered her to murder men. The popular read is that Dr. Diver, crippled by his savior complex, sacrifices his own needs when he marries Nicole and assumes all her problems as his own. She leeches on, and over time, she becomes stronger, slowly draining him dry. In the end, she's healed, and she leaves her husband behind a broken madman. But our adaptation reframes the story as Nicole's liberation paused. Let me see if I can get it right from the start. She's an innocent, isn't she? Her schizophrenia is the result of terrible trauma. After her mother died, her father raped her repeatedly, so her illness is reactionary. She's suspicious of all men and feels trapped and desperately wants to escape. But when she's hospitalized, she's forbidden to discuss or process the abuse. Her father abandons her, and his reputation remains spotless. Then she meets and falls in love with her Dr. Dick. I added textbook case transference. Nicole immediately transfers her feelings of dependence onto Dick, seeing him as both lover and protector, a conflation of the romantic partner and paternal caretaker she'd found in her father. And against the guidance of the other doctors, Dick decides to marry her. Their relationship begins with an unstable foundation. I noted. From the start, the power balance is skewed, and Nicole is dependent upon Dick for her own mental stability. So by believing himself capable of being both her lover and her doctor, Dick himself is responsible for creating the toxic relationship he ultimately blames Nicole for. And instead of helping her work through her trauma, he refuses to broach the subject of her past. He silences her. And then, of course, there's Rosemary. Right? Rosemary? Elle said. Dick's chronic wandering eye. His pursuit of these younger, vulnerable women is intensely triggering for Nicole, given her past with her father. At the beginning, Rosemary's an impressionable underage actress with complicated paternal baggage. And like Nicole, Rosemary falls for Dick, this much older man. And once again, rather than acting responsibly, Dick succumbs to Rosemary's desire for him to play lover and father both. When Nicole discovers their affair and has a schizophrenic episode, in that moment, her hero has become her ultimate betrayer. Our eyes locked. You get it. I can tell, El Said. Our version of Tender isn't another tragedy of the tortured white man. It's a feminist story of healing, of reparations. From the very beginning, Nicole's mental illness was never her fault. It was due to the trauma she endured from her father and from Dick himself. By the end of the story, she's only 29, and yet she's managed to become firmly grounded in reality and can finally stand on her own two feet. Dick has turned unstable and self destructive and is headed towards his own demise. But Nicole has overcome her trauma and reclaimed herself. She's free. Had to admit film's thesis impressive if done well, adaptation would be sensational. Asked why with upcoming role in Tender, Elle sought therapy. Now blushing, Elle explained reputation for being chameleon of an actor. Disappearing so deeply into character she becomes almost unrecognizable. Further, given character's backstory, Elle felt it important to examine trauma in her own childhood. Sought out me in particular because of my specialization in trauma surrounding domestic violence. Asked if she'd had therapy and passed, Elle said I was her first. Had always led busy life. Hadn't seen it as priority. Which probably meant I wasn't ready to look my trauma in the face. But I am now. That's brave of you. Is it? I don't think of it as brave. It's necessary. Elle display's high level of self awareness is astute, articulate, earnest. An entire time Elle's unwavering focus fixed upon me on doing the work trying to be the good patient. Asked Elle to tell me about her own childhood trauma. Curious how Tender might help narrate Elle's understanding of her own experience, Elle told me father died in car accident almost 25 years ago when El was 8. He was drunk, she said. But then Daddy always was. I can hardly remember him sober. He was driving. Nodded. Can you tell me what happened that night? I don't remember. I waited. I can't remember any of that night. Elle explained And I was there in the car. Mother and I both were blue on tea gathered herself. I mean, I know the facts. I know what's in the report. It was late. There weren't many cars out. Daddy was weaving all over the road and apparently he went onto the wrong side and collided with the truck. Mother broke an arm and a few ribs. I lost a tooth and had a ton of stitches on my forehead, my cheek, my chin. I still have a scar, see? We both got concussions. But daddy lost too much blood waiting for the ambulance to arrive. They couldn't revive him. And you don't remember any of this? Shook head. Maybe it was the concussion, but I can't remember that night at all. We landed on central event of severe childhood trauma. Uncovering repressed memory of father's death could be crucial to her healing. I hope in our time together to help Elle reconstruct this memory, bring it to light. Before we ended, I returned to Elle's phrase looking trauma in the face Asked what that meant. Elle studied me a moment. At last, quietly she spoke. I want your honest opinion. If someone has done something terrible to you, can you ever truly heal? Or will you always have a scar? Is there a way to erase the scar itself? And more importantly, erase that person's power to hurt again? What do you think? Elle smiled a little. I don't know. That's why I've come to you. Well, I certainly believe in healing. I wouldn't be a therapist if I didn't. El seemed unconvinced. Scars fade, Lila. They get less noticeable, and in time you forget they're even there. They become a part of you eventually. You can't remember what you look like without them. My professional opinion, since you asked, is that when someone has undergone a trauma, the best thing she can do is examine it. Get curious about it. As you said, look it right in the face. Only by doing so will it lose its power over you, Jonah. Elle watched me intently. Do you think you can help me do that, Lila? I smiled. I do.
- [17:52]
Sash Bischoff
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- [19:04]
Jackie Danziger
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- [20:11]
Lila Crane
Fuck. You look good. If I could eat you, I would. He considered, then leaned down and licked her neck. She laughed. Don't tell me after all these years, I'm finally turning you straight. Freddy grinned. If anyone could do it, it'd be you. She turned to her reflection in the infinity mirror. Before her, an endless number of Lila Cranes radiated as far as the eye could see from her central solar hold. She shifted slightly to take in her image, and around her, thousands of Lilas shifted too. Her best friend wrapped his arms around her from behind. I'm loving this, he murmured. Very All About Eve. She gazed at their image together in the low glow of the ensuite bath. For all its sharp angles, its endless glass, this room was where she felt safest. Look at them, she said, smiling softly at their reflection. Just look. She'd first met Freddie James years ago in la, on the set of her breakout Kurt Royal film Waiting Game. Back then, Kurt had already established himself as an industry tycoon, while Lila had still been a babe in the celluloid woods. Freddie, meanwhile, had had a couple films under his belt and a couple accompanying cautionary tales. It was love at first sight. In no time flat, they were joined at the hip and ready for the U haul. Lila had loved how attuned Freddy was, how keenly he observed, how sharply he listened, and she felt she understood him from the start. Most people were quick to put Freddy in a box, assuming a certain callous condescension in his sharp, dry wit. But Lila quickly saw past all that and recognized Freddy to be someone loyal and kind hearted. And in their industry, those qualities were near impossible to find. When Waiting Game became a box office hit, Lila had immediately shot to stardom and earned the title of America's Sweetheart. Suddenly, everyone around her seemed to be trying so hard to please her to catch her attention, to lure her into liking them. Freddy was the one person who didn't change a wit. With him, there would never be any bullshitting. She would always simply be Lila. An equal, a friend. While her career was exploding, Freddie was falling in love with a man who owned the most respected PR firm in the business. The warning signs were textbook, and from the beginning, Lila had seen the situation for what it was. She herself understood toxic relationships all too well, and she would do anything to save Freddy from his. After three painful years of enduring the boyfriend's abuse, Freddy was finally ready to admit she was right. And so patiently, carefully, Lila had crafted a plan to help her friend escape. Six months ago, tender as the night was greenlit, and at Lila's request, Kurt had offered Freddy the role of Tommy Barbon. The film would put 3,000 miles between him and his ex and, Lila hoped would distract Freddy out of his terrible relationship for good. He'd packed up his life in la, then flown across the country to New York and into Lila's open arms. Don't be sad, he told her softly now. We knew this day would come. I can't crash with the two of you forever. She shrugged. You know Kurt loves you. Of course he does. Freddy grinned and snapped into performance. Honey, I'm the prototypical gay best friend. My very existence makes Kurt feel so. He raised a brow. Hetero. Much as she hated to admit it, she knew this was true. In Kurt's presence, Freddy always assumed the role of the fabulous queen, and in the face of this pageantry, Kurt inevitably relaxed, reassured Freddie harbored no illicit underhand desire. He nuzzled her neck. Chin up. I'm moving to Soho, not Siberia. And besides, tonight the birthday boy deserves to have you all to himself. I want you two swinging from the goddamn chandelier. She smiled. We don't have a chandelier. I expect acrobatics, pyrotechnics. And in the meantime, he smoothed his shirt, his hair. I've got a job to do. She picked a speck of lint from his collar. You're heading there now? I am. Your overeager assistant has been texting me ad nauseam. If it weren't for you, I'd block the bitch. But don't worry, I'll play the part. He preened, examining his reflection. I'll be golden and boisterous and perfectly coiffed, with equal amounts charm and snark. I'll win them over instantly, plying their patients, lubricating them with alcohol, getting them all good and ready for Kurt's enormous red blooded, gasp worthy. Lila swatted him. Arrival. He grinned. Get that mind out of the gutter. Thank you, Freddy. She touched his cheek. What would I do without you, Lila? He took her palm, kissed its heart. I literally owe you my life. This was the least I could do. She pressed upon one of the reflected walls and the invisible jib door swung open, releasing them from their sanctuary and into the waiting world. And as she and Freddy descended the stairs into the great room, she marveled all over again at her good fortune. When she and Kurt had moved to the city, she'd found them aloft on the southern fringe of the West Village, glorious in its luxurious yawning space, more Tribeca than village in its Gothic height, its long stretched floor plan, its gleaming naked design. The floors poured concrete, the walls a thick glossed white, the pipes artfully exposed, blood red glint of silver. The apartment was located on West Street, a stone's throw from the Hudson. She and Kurt owned the whole crown of the building, their ceilings 20ft tall, encased almost entirely in shining slabs of soundproof glass. These transcendent windows, which looked down upon the city like enormous all seeing eyes, seemed almost as though they might float off like divine clouds into the sky. But alas, the eyes remained earthbound, anchored to the ground by the piece de resistance, the stunning private deck which wrapped around the building's length in a single, satisfied grin. The very bones of the home seemed to throw open to the easy reach of piers below, to the glittering water with its buoyed bobbing boats, to the early morning joggers flitting by. After kissing Freddy farewell, Lila turned her attention to the birthday boy himself waiting for her on the balcony. Kurt was leaning forward onto the rail, frosted martini in hand. A runner, Kurt, blood hot and humming, always hungry to race ahead, to win. Tonight he wore a starched white button down, open at the collar, fitted navy slacks, creamy leather loafers, strong frame, thick shock of silvery hair, sun soaked skin, the quiet shush of glass as she eased open the balcony door. Freddy just left, she said. He asked me to thank you again. He turned, rested his elbows on the rail behind and gazed at her standing before him. She'd picked a dress to make him wild, a backless champagne slip that clung delicately to the slender ribbon of her body, A naked dress, the type you'd glimpse from afar and do a double take, thinking she was traipsing about in the nude, the only bolt of color the bright slash of her lips. You look gorgeous, Crane. Happy birthday, she said. Boy, have I got a treat in store for you. I can see that, he said, sipping his martini. Later, stallion, she said, and he grinned. What's the surprise? She took the martini from his hand. It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now would it? His fingers moved to her hips. Patience, Mr. Royal, she said and popped an olive into her mouth. A quiet groan. A few minutes. I can be quick. You? Never. He laughed. You're gonna drive me crazy, you know that? She leaned in, whispered, my plan exactly. They took the keyed elevator down to the street where Daniel was already waiting in the car, then drove through the leafy blocks of the Village, their security team following in their wake. When Kurt was momentarily distracted by a call from one of Tender's producers, Lila texted Freddy, ETA less than 5. Assemble the boozy troops. He responded immediately. Copy that, Captain. Sloshed and sluiced as they turned down a cobblestone street. Daniel slowed before a restaurant tucked into the base of a brownstone. Kurt looked up from his phone. That new French place? She kissed his cheek. No shit, Sherlock. Are you sure it's open? He asked as they stepped out of the car. Looks pretty dark. They don't officially open till next week, she said. I called the owner tonight. They're making dinner for just the two of us. How sweet, kurt murmured. Thank you, baby. She turned away, smiling. Modesty just wasn't Kurt Royal's style. He craved the heady warmth of the spotlight, the roiling rush of crowds. They opened the door, stepped inside. I wonder why it's so dark, lila said, slipping her hand into his. Hello? Kirk called. Is anyone here? A stifled titter, and then at once the lights poured, bathing the space in a golden glow. Their friends leapt from their hiding spots, smiles bursting alight as they cried out to him, rushed to him, threw their arms around Kurt and Lila both. Happy birthday, Kurt darling, they said, and yes, it was happy. Of course it was, for Lila had dreamed it into being and it had happened without a hitch. She beamed at Freddy, sleek as a panther against the door frame, all but licking his paws with satisfaction, and he nodded back, blew her a kiss. She'd done it yet again, knew Kurt Royal better than he knew himself, and the games had just begun. The waitstaff waltzed in with fizzing flutes of champagne. Candles were lit, the room dimming and dancing in the shadows of the flames, the raw silk walls soaking in their glow. In the corner, a cluster of musicians spun satin into the air while a jazz vocalist crooned in French. Beyond, arched windows opened to a dark garden dressed with fairy lights that twinkled like pinprick stars against the velvety night. The pressed linen tables had been arranged in a fat rectangle, a banquet fit for a king, for Mr. Royall himself, and the feast was exquisite, sauteed moules swimming in a shallow soup of lemon, butter, sage, robust and portly cheeses placed plump atop beds of sharp grassy greens, crusts splitting at the seams with their own luscious ooze, baguettes piping hot flowers sugaring the air hiss of the dough as it stretched and pulled apart, Soft slabs of unsalted butter swabbed generously on les escargots simmering in individual pockets, parsley salt and oil swirling, the thick whip of it so light and lush the guests dolloped it directly to their tongues. Enfin les stec, still sizzling, glistening and tender with her own blood. Tout d'etait parfait. When the main course had been served, Lila excused herself to the washroom to prime herself for the final coup de foudre. She gazed into the mirror, jostled her hair at the scalp so that it bounced thickly about her, lifted her erect nipples beneath the sheath of fabric, slicked on more lipstick. It was time before she rejoined her guests. She paused at the entryway, allowed herself to take them all in, the whole gorgeous gaggle of them. There were Bobby and Greta, star in their predictable matching black. Bobbi Starr was head of Olympus Pictures, the distributor tentatively attached to Tender is the Night. Lila knew Starr would use the evening's festivities to cajole Kurt into signing onto another unremarkable action flick. Meanwhile, Greta, the executive editor at Vogue, had her own agenda. She'd begged Lila and Kurt to pose for their August cover, and Lila had graciously agreed. Greta was a riot, especially when she was buzzed on cocaine, as she obviously was tonight. To her right, Dean, the billionaire hedge fund mogul who invested religiously in Kurt's films, his contributions to Tinder a record high, and his girlfriend, Yuliana, the model who posed for the occasional spread but in reality spent more time enjoying her influencer status, frolicking and posing for her 300,000 fans. A few drinks from now she'd be grinding her bony little ass up on Dean and Kurt, begging Lila to make out with her. Lila, as always, would demur then Kaylee, the movie starlet. Kurt had wanted to play the part of Rosemary until Lila had finally convinced him otherwise. She was sure he and Kaylee had slept together at some indeterminate point in the past, and tonight Kaylee seemed to fancy herself subtle as she angled to be fucked by him again. To distract her, Lila had dispatched Freddie as diversion, and despite the fact that Freddie's sexuality had never been a secret, Kaylee was already teasing, her fingers high up his thigh. Zev Winters, wunderkind, actor and consummate skirt chaser, gracing almost all of Kurt's films, including an upcoming role in Tender and his new third wife, Sarah, a lawyer of all healthy callings. The fact that he'd gone plebeian was a likely sign, Lila suspected, that his Lothario act was still going strong. But Sara was pretty and seemed wickedly clever, and because of that she most certainly wouldn't stick around for long. While Zev was charming as hell, he'd never been able to keep his dick in his pants. The rest all the same. Stunning, the lot of them with their delicately threaded couture, their finely tuned bodies dizzying wealth nearly shimmering on their skin, some sharper, others more distinguished, others more charismatic. But despite these slight aberrations, they all pulled breathlessly in, prowling around one another's magnetic glow, purring with pride for the company in which they now found themselves, and ravenous all the same, to climb to the very top. Eyes wet and gleaming, laughter peeling, hands alight, teeth glistening. They were rabid, every last one. Yet tonight, as ever, Kurt and Lila were set apart, revered, for in the eyes of the world they were silver screen royalty. As Lila made her way back, a hand wrapped around her waist and with a cry of delight she was pulled into Freddy's lap. My hero, freddy said, kissing her plum on the lips. She grinned. And you, my heroine. Oh my God, Lila, this party is too cute. She looked over at Kaylee, smiling painfully. The sweet things seemed to be angling to take Freddy home tonight, and Lila clearly was the killjoy. It was too tempting. You know who's cute? Lila said, and kissed Freddy again, long and slow. Excuse me, miss, that's my boy toy you're groping. Kurt called from the far end of the table. She threw back her head with a throaty laugh and the rest of the table joined in, their eyes ping ponging between the prized couple. At last the crowning match had begun. And what, pray tell, does that make me? Mr. Royal? His mouth twitched into a smile. Why, my muse, of course. Hear, hear. Someone cried sloppily. I'd like to make a toast, kurt said and pushed his chair back to stand. Lila Crane. My temptress, my beauty, my darling, my undoing. My life was so very different before you, my love. And because of you, it'll never be the same. This was the perfect birthday. A room full of the people I love and cherish most. As you all well know, in prepping for this next film of mine, I've been living and breathing Fitzgerald, and in my current F. Scott absorption, I can't help but feel tonight as though I've stumbled into my very own Gatsby soiree. Such a gorgeous crowd. So much style and celebrity and glamour. He paused, winked. So much fucking alcohol. The proudly accused hooted, cheered. I like large parties, don't you? Freddy whispered into her ear, and Lila grinned at the reference. At small parties, there isn't any privacy, kurt continued. Thank you all for celebrating with me tonight. And thank you, baby, for bringing us together. He lifted his glass to Lila. To Lila. The room echoed. Lila stood and nodded at Freddy, who subtly pulled out his phone. She plucked up his glass, then turned to address the room. Isn't it just like Mr. Royal to make a toast to someone else on his own goddamn birthday? The room laughed. But I'm not going to let him get away with it tonight. Kurt knows I don't let him get away with anything. She doesn't. He shook his head ruefully. Beside her, Kaylee sniffed and Lila made amends, reaching down to caress her tawny head. Despite herself, Kaylee beamed. Kurt, my love, don't you know that tonight should be all about you? In fact, I have one more surprise in store. Well, one more that can happen in public. A woman whooped. A few men laughed wetly. She began to walk down the length of the table, her fingers touching the shoulders of the guests. She passed. Kurt, the whole world knows you as a genius, a savant, groundbreaker, and earth shatterer in the world of film. You forever altered the landscape, created countless masterpieces, and with each film you make, your work only grows richer. You are a champion of projects you love. Projects that really matter. Projects like Tender Is the Night. She caught Star's eye. Thank you again, Bobby, for letting Kurt twist your arm a bit with this one. Star bowed his head and the room chuckled in support. You are revered and will continue to be recognized time and again for your incredible prowess. What the world doesn't necessarily know, however, is what a fucking man you are. And more than anyone else, I do. You bet she does, zevin toned drunkenly. You've been so good to me, lila said as she reached Kurt and placed her hand in his. You've cared for me and loved me deeply. But as you know, nothing is more important to me than absolute, unequivocal respect. She squeezed his hand. I can honestly say that Kurt Royal is the world's model for what it means to be a man today. And what a lucky girl am I to have captured him. Am I right? The table cheered. Lila reached back to the nape of her neck, unclasped her gold necklace, her eyes never leaving Kurt's. But don't be fooled by this silly little dress, because tonight I want to play the gentleman's part. She pulled the long chain from where it had dipped below her loosely scooped neckline and suspended it, glimmering in the candlelight. Slowly she released one end into an upturned palm, revealing a thin gold band. When Fitzgerald described his love for Zelda, he said it was the beginning and end of everything. I've had that phrase inscribed here inside this ring because no words could more accurately capture our love. Kurt Royal. She kicked off her heels, knelt down on both knees. Will you marry me? She smiled up at him, and in the low glow of the candles his blue eyes seemed black, the reflected flames dancing in their wetness. The subjects fell hush. At last he spoke as if it were even a question. Lila, baby, of course I'll marry you. The room screamed in celebration, and beyond the windows, the lightning flash of cameras. The press had arrived. Kurt scooped her into his arms, the musk of him warming her stomach, her loins. She ran her fingers through his hair, and when he leaned in to kiss her spreading smile, her teeth pressed into the soft plush of his lips. Still grinning, she bit.
- [43:07]
Sash Bischoff
Ready to hear the rest of the story, visit YourNextListen.com Copyright 2025 by Sash Bischoff, LLC. Audio courtesy of Simon Schuster Audio from the audiobook Sweet Fury by Sash Bischoff read by Sash Bischoff Published by Simon and Schuster Audio, a division of Simon and Schuster, Inc. Used with permission from Simon and Schuster, Inc. Your next listen is a production of Lemonada Media in Simon and Schuster Audio. I'm your host, Jackie Danziger. I produce this series with Lizzie Breyer Bowman. Isara Acevez is our associate producer. Bobby Woody is our audio engineer. Music by APM Executive producers are Jessica Cordova Kramer and Stephanie Whittles. Wax production support from Lara Blackman, Tom Spain, Sarah Lieberman, and Lauren Pierce. Help others find our show by leaving us a rating and writing a review. Thanks for listening. See you next time.
- [44:08]
Chris Guillebeau
Hey there. I'm Chris Guillebeau. I'm an author of books including Time anxiety and the $100 startup, and I'm also the host of side Hustle School, a daily podcast that's been running for more than 2,900 days and counting, with real stories of people creating new sources of income without going into debt and without quitting their job. Each episode is short, actionable, and designed to get you started today, whether you have an idea or you're just looking for inspiration. So if you're ready to create financial freedom and build something for yourself, or even if you're just curious, hit, follow or subscribe wherever you listen. New episodes every day.
- [44:39]
Sash Bischoff
Does your office have an evil donut bringer?
- [44:42]
Jackie Danziger
Do you have a personal canary in a coal mine? Are you guilty of over apologizing?
- [44:46]
Lila Crane
I'm Liz Craft.
- [44:47]
Jackie Danziger
And I'm Sarah Fane. We're television writers and showrunners and the hosts of Happier in Hollywood, a podcast where we share all the juicy details of our career in television and offer tips and strategies that will help you and us have an even more successful, satisfying and fun career.
- [45:02]
Sash Bischoff
Whether you're in Hollywood, Dollywood, or somewhere in between, Check out Happier in Hollywood every Thursday from Lemonada Media.