He stared at his phone, then looked at the two women in front of him, who were still deep in conversation and getting along great.
He abruptly stood up, the speed of his movement causing his chair to wobble.
"Excuse me," he grabbed his jacket, his voice low but urgent. "Something's come up. I have to get to Princeton immediately."
Cameron's smile froze mid-frame, like someone had hit the pause button.
"Now?" she asked, the budding sun in her blue eyes suddenly obscured by a cloud.
Jennifer didn't say anything. She simply put down her coffee cup and looked up at him.
"It's an emergency," Link offered no more details. His mind was in a whirl, and all he wanted was to get out of this damn coffee shop.
He pulled out his wallet, slapped a few bills on the table, and turned to leave.
"What is it, exactly?" Jennifer pressed.
Link stopped dead in his tracks.
He had planned to just wave it off, but seeing the hurt in Cameron's eyes, and the "don't-treat-me-like-an-idiot" look in Jennifer's, he sighed.
"It's Russell," he said. "He might be... a little out of control."
He repeated the hotel manager's words, using the shortest version possible.
The coffee shop fell unnaturally quiet.
Cameron's mouth formed a slight "O." Her mind was filled with the image of Russell Crowe, that bear of a man, frantically scribbling on the glass with a marker.
"He... just wrote on the window?" she asked instinctively, sounding a little dumbfounded.
Jennifer, however, frowned.
"No," she shook her head, looking at Cameron. "That's not just writing."
"That's a man whose mind is trapped, using the only way he knows how to call for help."
Link was stunned.
He hadn't expected Jennifer to nail the very core of his deepest worry with a single sentence.
"The hotel is going to call the police," Link said. "If this hits the papers, Russell is finished. A Beautiful Mind is finished."
He looked at them after saying his piece.
"So, I have to go handle it."
He turned, ready to go.
"We're coming with you."
Link stopped again. He turned back to see Cameron already standing up. The hurt was gone from her face, replaced by a kind of eager, almost competitive excitement.
"You're going to go argue with that Indian manager all by yourself?" she raised an eyebrow. "Trust me, when you're dealing with guys like that, a smile works better than a check."
Jennifer also rose. She didn't look at Link, but picked up the phone on the table and dialed a number.
"Hello, Mrs. Alicia? It's Jennifer."
"Yes, I'm sorry to bother you. We have a... situation here. Regarding Russell, he seems to be... getting a little too into character."
Link looked at the two women in front of him.
He suddenly had the feeling that he wasn't... fighting this battle alone.
---
On the drive to Princeton, the atmosphere was a little strange.
Link was driving, Cameron was in the passenger seat touching up her lipstick with a small mirror, and Jennifer was in the back, arms crossed, eyes closed, seemingly contemplating the universe.
"So," Cameron said, looking at Jennifer in the rearview mirror, as if making casual small talk, "Are you and Russell... close?"
"No," Jennifer opened her eyes, her voice calm. "I was just wondering what I would do if I were Alicia, seeing my husband make such a mess of the house."
"Call the cops?" Cameron suggested.
"No," Jennifer shook her head. "I'd clean up the mess for him first. Then, I'd make him a hot cup of tea."
Cameron paused while applying her lipstick. She looked intently at Jennifer through the mirror.
Link gripped the steering wheel, pretending to focus completely on driving.
The rest of the trip was silent.
The car pulled up to the Princeton hotel.
In the lobby, the Indian manager was pacing back and forth anxiously. When he saw Link, he pounced like he'd spotted a lifeboat.
"Mr. Link! You're finally here! We've got reporters outside!" he pointed at the door, his voice shaking. "I have to call the police right now!"
Link frowned, about to speak.
A hand gently rested on his arm.
It was Cameron.
She gave him a quick wink, then put on a smile that could melt the North Pole and walked up to the manager.
"Hello, Mr. Manager," her voice was like honeyed milk. "I'm Cameron Diaz. I am so incredibly sorry for all this trouble we've caused you."
The manager froze. Seeing the golden-haired sweetheart who usually only graced movie posters, he was momentarily speechless.
"Our friend, Russell, he's an artist," Cameron's tone was as soft as if she were consoling a child. "Sometimes... he can't tell the difference between reality and acting. He didn't mean to do this; he's just... sick."
She lowered her eyes and sighed, like a sunflower about to wilt.
The manager's heart instantly softened.
"How about this," Cameron pulled a checkbook from her bag, signed a check, tore it off, and slipped it into the manager's hand. "This is to cover the hotel's damage. And I'll personally add another thousand dollars for everyone to get some late-night takeout, just to... apologize on Russell's behalf."
She looked up, her blue eyes glistening.
"Could you... give us a little more time? We'd like to talk to him first."
The manager looked at the check in his hand, then at the sincere face in front of him.
He nodded, as if under a spell.
"...Alright. But only half an hour."
Link watched the whole thing with a single thought:
The honey trap really does work better!
Just then, Jennifer walked over.
"Mrs. Alicia's on the phone," she handed the cell phone to Link. "She wants to talk to Russell herself."
Link took the phone, looking at Cameron, who had successfully calmed the manager, and then at Jennifer, who had secured the crucial backup.
For the first time, he realized that Pangu Pictures' true fighting force wasn't its money or its scripts.
It was this squad of uniquely talented women—the Ladies' Rescue Squad.
The three of them reached the hotel room door.
There was no sound from inside.
Link raised his hand, about to knock.
"Thump—thump—thump."
A dull but rhythmic pounding sound came from inside.
The air suddenly grew taut.