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Back To Business? Actress Philomela Spotted In LA
Reports reveal that renowned actress Philomela, 37, formerly on a hiatus of two years in her homeland in Greece, was spotted at the Los Angeles International Airport on the evening of October 8th, along with a mysterious personage believed to be her celebrity son, Patroclus Menoitiades — distinguished child actor known for his roles in... Tap to read more.
@aristatos_31 shit, seriously? phil, is that you?
@simpformela why is that vile man's name still attached to my baby pat? #fuckmenoitius
@simpformela WE MISSED YOU PHILOMELA
@in_vibe YASSSS OUR KWEEN IS BACK!!
@dyingsince2003 is that fucking Patroclus? our smol child is so big now! and melaaaaaa,
@philomelasbitch welp time to melasimp again
Odysseus raised a brow at his screen. It had been a good six days since the article (and then many more) was published and Twitter had yet to find a new hot topic to dispute over. Just as Philomela and her son were yet to show their faces, even after their break. Really, he had expected the entire thing to blow over quite easily given that neither mother nor son had ever been fond of showcasing their personal lives to the world, and most of their fans had been quite understanding — even a bit uninterested due to the 'lack of content', as they preferred to call it.
That was before the scandal.
He supposed it was not that much of a wonder that people were interested in learning more about Philomela after her very messy divorce from the famous film producer Menoetius. Patroclus, he remembered, had been only sixteen or seventeen, and had not fully grown into his manhood. It took a heavy toll on them, ending with Philomela eventually migrating to Greece on a temporary basis, seeking peace and a better environment for Patroclus to pursue further education. The public was uninformed of most of this, typically. There was not a single picture, nor a word from either of the two for as long as they were away, and even in the only photograph of them at the airport, their faces were hazy and unclear.
But Odysseus was not heading to Philomela's house to draw her out. He, in fact, had business with Patroclus. His company, Ithaca Entertainment, was collaborating with Dionysian Media House, Diomedes' film corporation, to create a rendition of an upstart author's romance novel. They had already begun auditions for the two main leads, but he had taken one look at the media outlets upon Philomela's news and decided that he needed Patroclus to act in his film, especially if any of that potential he had seen in the youth all those years ago had honed during his therapeutic time-out. Besides, Patroclus needed him just as much. It was the perfect opportunity for the boy to grow out of his 'child' and 'teen' roles. If he still wished to pursue acting, that is.
So Odysseus was, all in all, confident. And anyway, could Patroclus and Philomela really deny him when he showed up at their doorstep unannounced?
Turned out, their pinnacle security actually could.
It took great persuasion for him to be let into the area where their neat little villa was located. He had to brandish all his identity proofs; it was only slightly humiliating, but he supposed it could be considered mild in comparison to the time his own wife refused to let him past their own house security because he had called her out on wearing his perfume. Well, to be exact, he had tagged her and tweeted:
@demiseofpennywise I know where my perfume has been disappearing.
She had been embarrassed. She was cute when she was embarrassed. Not when she was throwing him out of the house, though.
Traipsing through the miniature lea preceding the entrance to the villa, he fixed his cuffs and the lapels of his coat, sighing. Penelope would love the domesticity of this place. It was modern, maintained, and homey and he could not even begin to fathom how that was possible. He groomed his clipped beard for a second before ringing the sleek, wireless doorbell. A pleasant, chiming melody played out. He would never bring Penelope here.
To say he was surprised would be an understatement when the double doors opened to reveal Philomela herself. He had to hand it to her — she still looked just as striking as ever. If anything, the Greek countryside had evidently been kinder to her. She was beaming, full and bright, with a shadow of crinkles around her eyes and the soft, occasional glint of silver in her hair. He had always considered her to be effortlessly elegant. Even senescence suited her.
"Phil," he smiled, feeling once again, in her presence, like the reckless young teenager he once had been. "Hi,"
She gave a soft gasp, "Odysseus!"
"Miss me yet?" he hitched his brows, spreading out his arms.
"What a ridiculous question; of course I did." she held the door wider, "You're my favourite punk. Come on in."
Odysseus offered her a cheeky smile full of teeth, remembering one too many galas and dinner events in her prime when he and Diomedes, as a youthful pair of mischief-makers, would escape the scrutiny of their parents and bother Philomela, and try to pry her away from her morose and uninteresting husband. She always indulged them even if they were rude and imposing and wild.
As he took off his shoes and followed her to the living room, he noted that the house looked rather lived-in. It was sweet, he thought. He had never seen Philomela this relaxed. Her curly hair was pragmatically pinned back and she wore a long, loose summer dress in a soft shade of green. She was barefoot and without any sort of makeup.
"You look lovely," he commented, earning a genuine laugh that he could distinguish from those of her public appearances only now. Her voice was just as soothing as ever when she thanked him.
The living room, oddly, felt like a breath of fresh air. It was spacious and filled with muted colours. Philomela offered him to choose any seat from the plain, upholstered cabriole sofa in daring alabaster white and accent chairs to the grey cushioned seats accompanying the round coffee table on which a laptop and a couple of glossy publications sat open. The rug beneath was furry and ticked the soles of his feet pleasantly. There were potted monsteras and areca palms and a good selection of art pieces hung on the wall. They did not have the T.V. here. One wall of the room had been contributed to a set of sliding glass doors that led out into a lawn.
Philomela resumed her seat at the centre of one of the large sofas, where she had evidently been prior to his arrival. Odysseus sat on the sofa exactly opposite her.
"Will you have something to drink?" she asked.
"Oh no," he said, "none of that. I'm actually here for a bit of business. And I thought I could ask about your health while I was visiting. You look well-rested." Happier, he meant.
"I am," she nodded, "It's nice of you to visit, even though I wasn't really expecting any work-related stuff so soon after returning."
"You have been absent for a long time, Philomela. But my business today is actually not quite with you; I was hoping to see Patroclus."
"Oh!" she said. Then, with an apologetic expression, "I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit. He's in the kitchen right now — he told me there was apparently something he wanted to try. Is it urgent?"
Odysseus shook his head politely, "It can wait. I just hope I'm not interrupting anything."
She twisted and craned her neck back to check for something — probably her son. "I'm not quite sure." And then offering him another apologetic smile, "Patroclus wouldn't tell me a thing."
Curiosity bubbled in his throat, "He's twenty now, isn't he?"
"Just about."
Odysseus hummed thoughtfully. And then, before he could ask any more questions, a dashing young man: dark, caramel-eyed, and with a head full of artful curls emerged behind Philomela, holding a tray of something warm and aromatic in one mittened hand. Philomela inquisitively moved to look around, but before she could, her eyes were covered by a palm and slender fingers, and a charming grin was thrown Odysseus' way.
"Hi," said the intruder to him, voice of a deep timbre, but mellow.
Odysseus was a little starstruck.
"Don't peek, mama," said the young man, then carefully removed his hand from Philomela's eyes, rushing to put his tray on the table in the centre.
Philomela reigned in her laugh, huffing, "Patroclus,"
With his close-up view now, Odysseus could spot the finer details of Patroclus' face and all those that he recognised from the memory of a boy. The straight nose, the square cut of his jaw, the gentleness of his mouth, and the sparkling eyes. He was Philomela's son all right.
"Open them now," said Patroclus, withdrawing from the table as he pulled off his mitten.
Philomela drew a breath, "You made this? On your own?"
"Yeah," replied Patroclus, trying to contain his eagerness. "I wanted to surprise you. I cleaned up the kitchen too, so you don't have to worry about that. Try it. You too, Odysseus."
Odysseus felt very much as if he was intruding on a private moment, especially when Philomela pulled Patroclus into her embrace and planted an adoring kiss on his temple. He resisted the urge to coo at them, picking up a piece of what he now registered was spanakopita with a quiet murmur of 'thank you'.
Philomela could not stop smiling as she tasted her son's handiwork. Her eyes lit up with delight as she nodded when Patroclus asked her if it was good. Odysseus' agreement showed on his face. Patroclus had nailed the flavour balancing and had even managed the flakiness of the pie properly. It had been a long time since he had tried any Greek dishes. It felt like a homecoming.
"There is one minute issue," spoke Philomela after she was done chewing. Patroclus leaned closer with all the attentiveness of a novice as she turned the slice in her hand over and pointed at the bottom of it. "This area is just a bit soggy. Was the spinach wilted properly?"
"Yes," answered Patroclus, confused.
"Was there any moisture remaining in the skillet?" she asked again, this time with a knowing glance.
Patroclus hesitated. "Maybe," Then he drew away and cast a sheepish look at her. "But first-time errors are pardoned, right?"
Odysseus found it physically hard to look at the fondness in Philomela's eyes, so he put his gaze somewhere else as she cupped her son's cheek and exclaimed, "Of course, sweetheart!"
But Patroclus, bright-eyed, was now looking at him expectantly. "What do you think, Odysseus?"
Odysseus gave his honest review: it was incredible, especially for a first attempt. Patroclus glowed with pride as he tried a bit of it himself, seating himself next to his mother. They ate in silence for a while, before he splintered it with his inability to stop himself from asking what had been on his mind for a good few minutes now. "I don't know why, when Philomela said you would join us in a while, Patroclus, I expected a coltish teenager to come tumbling into the room. I could never presume that you would grow so big."
Patroclus flushed, scratching his neck awkwardly. He supposed it was a result of being socially cut off for such a long time that disallowed him from properly getting used to the idea of being an adult now. "It's a good thing," he remarked, reclining into the sofa fully as he propped one long leg over the other, "Perfect, actually. You see, I came with an offer for you — to act in the film industry's next blockbuster based on one latest bestseller novel. Your face is ideal. In fact, you've given me more than I bargained for when I came here. So," he abruptly changed his stance, uncrossing his legs and placing his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward with all the sobriety he could muster, "opinions?"
Patroclus paused, abandoning a moment prior's easiness for some pensive thought. Philomela did not interrupt, merely studying him and waiting for him to provide his unadulterated answer.
"It's a bit early," he said at last, "I just came back —"
"We're yet to fully begin anything," Odysseus interrupted, "There are two main leads, and we're still running auditions for them, which is why I came here early. Patroclus," he said in his gravest tone, "you have talent. An ocean of it. And I need you in this. I've thought about it since the beginning of my planning and literally the first face I could imagine was yours. This is an exclusive opportunity for both of us. The public knows you as a child actor only, and the industry will stick that role to you if you don't begin taking up adult roles. Believe me, you do not want to be stereotyped in the world of acting. It will stunt your potential. An actor should always be free of confinement and able to adapt to any and all roles. You will not gain this flexibility if you don't seize the right offer at the right time.
"You are in your prime now. And having been absent for so long, you have a chance to shatter people's expectations of your image. Right now, no one knows you. You can build a new Patroclus from scratch. You can create who you want to be seen as. I am here to give you that opportunity."
There was a beat of silence. Then,
"Mama was right when she called you a snake."
Philomela began laughing. Odysseus only raised one eyebrow at her.
"You've put forward a tempting offer, Odysseus. But you'll still have to give me a full description before I accept it." Patroclus added, diplomatically. He was learning his business well.
Odysseus allowed himself to relax. "And mama's verdict?"
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Let Patroclus come to his decision first. Only then will I."
Sighing, he reached into his office bag to retrieve the skeletal details of what had been planned for the moviemaking so far. It was a thin document, with neat, crisp pages that were yet to be marred by scrawled ideas and corrections alongside the print. He rose and handed it to Patroclus, giving a verbal explanation simultaneously.
"It's called 'Incipient'. The title is directly taken from the original book. It's a spy romance, involving one intelligence agent of a crime syndicate on an undercover mission. His cover is a regular citizen who lives in a basic, middle-class neighbourhood, minding his own business peacefully. He is secretly managing all criminal activity from this very house, but to all his neighbours, he's the ever-smiling, sweet guy who helps old ladies and buys kids treats. The real story begins when someone shifts into the empty house beside his own. This stranger later plays the role of his love interest. He falls hard and fast for the simplicity and gentleness of his neighbour, to the extent that it begins to interfere with his job. The plot focuses on their developing relationship, all the while giving little hints about the big plot twist at the end. Obviously," he appended, "I'm not going to spoil it for you."
He proceeded to pull out a copy of the book, proffering it. "But you can find out from the source itself."
Patroclus took it with great interest, eyes skimming over the glaring title and reviews printed on the cover. Philomela joined in after another glance at the drafted document.
"There's just one thing more —" began Odysseus.
"'Truly one of the best works with an outstanding inclusivity of the LGBTQ community.'" Patroclus read aloud. Philomela's neck snapped up at him, followed closely by Patroclus.
"— right." he ended.
"That's..." Patroclus stalled.
"Are you sure a homosexual character is appropriate for his first adult role, Odysseus?" Philomela interceded for him for the first time. "Because, to my knowledge, Patroclus has never been romantically attracted to any boy before. I don't think he's even had enough time to think through the prospect of his sexuality with how things were for us. And he's not exactly experienced. What if he's not able to fulfil his role as he is required to? We don't even know if he would be comfortable with it."
Patroclus, oddly enough, did not say a word. He wasn't even looking at his mother. Odysseus stored that information away for later.
"I think it's still worth a try." he shrugged confidently. "I, as well as my crew, will try our level best to find an actor for the other main lead who Patroclus will feel reassured with. If he is still willing to give this a chance, that is." He made sure Patroclus was holding the intensity of his gaze as he spoke.
"I think," started Patroclus, "that I need some more time to think this through with careful consideration. Could I get back to you in two days?"
It was better than nothing, decided Odysseus. "Sure." He stood, smoothing out the wrinkles on his clothes.
Patroclus extended the draft to him.
"Hmm?" he looked up, "Oh no, keep it. I brought a reprint, especially for you. Try reading the book. If you feel it's worth the role, call me up. Phil has my number, she can lend it to you." He knew it was worth the role.
"Thanks," said Patroclus, withdrawing his arm. He sent Odysseus one of his warm smiles.
"Well," he said, walking out and slipping on his shoes. "Until then."
Both Philomela and Patroclus stood in the doorway, waving him off as he exited it. When he was halfway across the path to the outer gates, Philomela called, "Penelope suggested the book, didn't she?"
Halting abruptly, he blushed and shouted back a mortified "Curse you, Phil!" before resuming his march at a much faster rate, Philomela's ringing laughter fading in the background. Only he was allowed to admit that he was a slut for Penelope.