Jack Hansen got woken up at the crack of dawn by Tom's phone call, then basically dragged out of bed and forced into some "let's talk about our feelings" brunch.
Jack was pissed. He glared at Tom (who was sitting there all chill, sipping coffee like he owned the place) and growled, "I was ten minutes into banging a blonde supermodel, and you cock-block me? How you gonna make that up to me, bro?"
Tom didn't even blink. "Ten minutes? Impressive. Didn't know you could last that long."
Jack exploded. "Oh, you've got jokes now, Cruise? You're real brave today!" He yanked out a chair in the hotel suite and plopped down. "Spit it out—what's so important you flew your ass to New York?"
Tom gave him a disgusted look. "I have nothing in common with a guy who only knows how to chase models."
Jack's face lit up with a sleazy grin. "Wait a second… no way. The legendary Tom Cruise, heartbreaker of the planet, has girl problems?"
Tom side-eyed him, then just admitted it. "You got me."
"Tell me everything. Which lucky lady finally snagged the guy who's been single since the dinosaurs?"
Tom rubbed his forehead like he had a migraine. "I kissed her yesterday."
Jack whooped. "Damn, man! One day and you're already making moves? How'd she react—did she melt?"
"She ran."
Jack's jaw dropped so hard it almost hit the marble floor. "Hold up. There's a woman on this planet immune to Tom Cruise?!"
"First time for everything," Tom muttered. "Feels like I lost before I even got in the game."
That's why he'd taken two days off (super rare for Mr. Workaholic). He needed to cool off and get his head straight.
Jack whistled. "So what's the play? Getting shot down like that has to sting."
Tom's voice went ice-cold. "Back to status quo. I stay in my lane, she stays in hers. Zero overlap."
"You're giving up? Just like that?"
Tom picked up his coffee, totally calm. "I've been testing the waters for a while. She never bites. Dragging it out would just make me feel worse. Sometimes quitting is the smart move."
Jack threw his hands up. "Fine, your love life, your call. Plus you already roasted me—said I only understand supermodels, not real women."
Tom smirked. "I take it back. You're a genius. You stick to supermodels because real women are unpredictable and might say no. Supermodels literally never say no."
Jack laughed his ass off. "Hell yeah! Wanna come join the dark side? I'll hook you up."
Tom actually chuckled. "Nah. I'm too old-school. If I'm with someone, it's gotta be headed somewhere real. Your whole 'fun only' philosophy doesn't work for me."
Two days later, Joey's back on set waiting for Tom to show back up.
The second he did, she could feel the temperature drop. This wasn't him teasing or playing around; he was straight-up cold.
It confirmed what she already suspected: that kiss was just a drunken impulse, and now he was putting the walls back up (loud and clear).
And honestly? Joey was 100% okay with that. She never asked for any of this. He's the one who started it. What was she supposed to do, chase him?
The director picked up on the weird vibe immediately. These two used to joke around nonstop; now they barely looked at each other. Whatever.
At least Joey had finally figured out how to play "smitten" in their scenes together. It wasn't Oscar-worthy, but it worked. The director wasn't complaining.
For the rest of the two-and-a-half-month shoot, Joey and Tom might as well have been on different planets. He didn't go out of his way to talk to her, and she wasn't about to look thirsty.
When the final "That's a wrap!" got called, Tom still had six months of motion-capture and pick-ups ahead of him to finish the Iron Man suit performance.
Joey? She was completely done. No reshoots, no nothing.
Still, she figured she should at least say goodbye to the crew; they'd all been cool. And the person she knew best was… yeah, Tom.
So she walked over, plastered on her friendliest smile (the one she'd been practicing in the mirror so it wouldn't look awkward), and went, "Hey, Tom! We're done! You killed it; see you at the premiere!"
He gave her the most polite, distant nod ever, lips barely moving. "Yeah. See you."
Then he just… walked off.
Joey stood there like an idiot, smile frozen on her face slowly dying.
Wait… did she do something wrong?
Because if anyone should be mad, it's her—he's the one who kissed her out of nowhere! How the hell did she end up feeling like the villain here?
Screw the wrap party. She made up some excuse, skipped it, and booked the first flight back to L.A.
Once she was home, she threw herself into the next big thing: the United Nations had officially confirmed her as a Goodwill Ambassador for the Racial Equity Commission, and they were letting her speak at the General Assembly.
This was huge. Plenty of celebs talk politics, but actually getting invited to address the UN? That's rare air.
It wasn't just fame; she had the credibility, the grassroots love, and a legit track record of fighting for minority rights. Joey checked every box.
She spent weeks writing and rewriting her speech until it felt perfect: passionate, sharp, and undeniably her.
Day of, she went full power-suit mode: tailored pantsuit, hair in a sleek low bun, barely-there makeup, bold red lip; same vibe she rocked at the White House.
When she stepped in front of the cameras, she looked like she owned the place: confident, shoulders back, zero nerves on the outside.
Every major news outlet on the planet had a live feed trained on that podium.
The internet had been buzzing for weeks: "A Hollywood director is speaking at the UN?!" A lot of people who didn't know her story were straight-up confused.
Like, what did this random filmmaker do to earn a global mic time?
But anyone who'd followed Joey's rise knew exactly why she was the perfect choice.
She's the living, breathing American Dream. An Asian-American woman who came out of nowhere and conquered Hollywood on pure talent.
She's been the loudest, most consistent voice for minority creators and stories in the industry.
And the whole world freaking loves her for it.
Now she was about to take the most visible stage on Earth and talk about racial equity to every nation at once.
She walked up to the podium, took one deep breath to settle the butterflies, looked out at the sea of cameras and delegates…
And the entire press gallery held their breath.
This woman was about to light the world on fire. Again.