A wrap...

"No pain, just gains," he muttered under his breath staring through a glass window at the pool side just downstairs where models in bikinis lounge about in all sizes, colours and shapes. 

The penthouse apartment stood across the top floor of one of Manhattan's most exclusive high-rises. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, the lights twinkling like earthbound stars against the night sky.

Jason Rivers stood by one of these windows, a glass of champagne in hand, observing the party in full swing around him. At 6'4" with broad shoulders and a trim waist, he cut an imposing figure even in a room full of beautiful people.

His god-like, chiseled jawline and piercing blue eyes had graced magazine covers and movie posters for over a decade, earning him the unofficial title of Hollywood's golden boy, well if one looked at it from a naked perspective. 

Running a hand through his perfectly styled dark hair – just a hint of distinguished gray at the temples – Jason put on his most charming smile as another guest approached.

This was the same smile that had launched a thousand fan clubs, boyish and mischievous with just a touch of danger. It was the smile that had made him millions.

"Jason! Darling!" The woman air-kissed both his cheeks, her jewelry catching the light as she moved. "This party is simply divine. You always know how to throw the best soirées!"

"Glad you're enjoying yourself, Melissa," Jason replied, his voice a rich baritone that seemed to caress each word. "Although I can't take all the credit. My team does most of the hard work."

"Oh, don't be modest," Melissa laughed, touching his arm. "We all know a Jason Rivers party is something special."

As they chatted, Jason felt the familiar hollowness creeping in. He'd had this same conversation a hundred times before, with a hundred different people. Each one wanting a piece of him, each one seeing only what they wanted to see – the suave movie star, the charming host, the unattainable object of desire.

"If you'll excuse me," he said smoothly, extricating himself from the conversation. "I need to check on something with the caterers."

Making his way through the crowd, Jason nodded and smiled at the other guests. Here was a producer he'd worked with on his last film, there a model he'd briefly dated last year. Everyone wanted his attention, everyone had an angle.

Finally reaching the relative quiet of the kitchen, Jason leaned against a counter and closed his eyes for a moment. The mask slipped, revealing the exhaustion underneath. When had it all become so tiresome? The parties, the premieres, the endless parade of people all wanting something from him?

"Mr. Rivers?" A voice interrupted his thoughts. "Is everything alright?"

Jason opened his eyes to see Sarah, his personal assistant, looking at him with concern. In her early thirties, with sensible glasses and an always-present tablet in hand, Sarah was one of the few people in his life who saw him as a person rather than a commodity.

"I'm fine, Sarah," he said, straightening up and slipping the mask back on. "Just needed a breather. How much longer do we have to keep this circus going?"

Sarah checked her tablet. "The last guests should be leaving within the hour. Do you want me to start wrapping things up?"

Jason nodded. "Please. And after everyone's gone, could you bring the contracts for that new project to my study? Might as well get some work done tonight."

"Of course, Mr. Rivers. I'll take care of it."

As Sarah left to oversee the party's conclusion, Jason made one last round through the guests. He laughed at the right moments, made promises to catch up soon that he had no intention of keeping, and played the role of the gracious host to perfection.

An hour later, the last guest had finally departed. Jason loosened his tie as he walked to his study, a spacious room lined with bookshelves and dominated by a large mahogany desk. He poured himself a generous measure of scotch from a crystal decanter and sank into the leather chair behind the desk.

Taking a long sip of the amber liquid, Jason savored the burn as it slid down his throat. He stared at the contracts Sarah had left on his desk – another movie, another typecasted role, the hot adult movie star that every woman would crawl on their knees to be with. The walking thirst trap himself.

Fortunately, it was another multi-million dollar payday as well.

Another few months of his life dedicated to maintaining the image of Jason Rivers, adult film superstar.

"Is this really all there is?" he muttered to himself, swirling the scotch in his glass. The man who seemed to have everything was suddenly struck by how empty it all felt.

As he contemplated the hollowness of his existence, Jason began to feel... odd. He raised his glass to the light to have a better look at the content but couldn't even hold it up for much longer. 

"The fuck?..." He breath. 

A wave of dizziness washed over him, followed by a sharp pain in his chest. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. The room started to spin.

"What the hell?" he gasped, his breath coming in short, painful bursts. He tried to call out for help, but his voice was barely a whisper.

The glass slipped from his fingers, shattering on the hardwood floor. Jason clutched at his chest, his vision blurring. He slumped back in the chair, feeling his consciousness slipping away. A trickle of blood escaped from the corner of his mouth.

His last thought before the darkness took him was a bitter realization – in a life full of people, he was dying alone.

Minutes later, Sarah knocked on the study door. "Mr. Rivers? I have those additional documents you asked for." When there was no response, she pushed the door open.

..

.."..."

The scream that followed would haunt her for years to come.

------------

Across town, in a nondescript office building, Alex Turner stifled a yawn as he peered out the rain-streaked window. The clock on the wall showed it was well past normal working hours, but the glow of Alex's computer screen indicated the day was far from over.

At 5'7" with mousy brown hair often slightly disheveled, Alex was the kind of person who tended to blend into the background.

Twenty eight years old but often mistaken for younger, he had a face more kind than handsome, with warm brown eyes hidden behind practical glasses.

Alex's desk was a battlefield of scattered papers and empty coffee cups, just a glimpse of how chaotic it had been that week at work.

As an accountant at a mid-sized firm, Alex was used to long hours, especially during tax season. But this project had been particularly grueling.

Stretching his arms above his head to work out the kinks from hours of hunching over a keyboard, Alex let out a deep sigh. "Just a few more spreadsheets," he muttered, more to break the silence than anything else.

The office was empty save for Alex, the other cubicles standing dark and silent.

Outside, the patter of rain against the windows had steadily increased throughout the evening, punctuated now by the occasional rumble of thunder.

As Alex turned back to the computer, a notification popped up on the screen. It was a news alert – "Breaking: Hollywood Star Jason Rivers in Critical Condition after collapse at NYC Penthouse."

"No way," Alex breathed, clicking on the link. A grainy photo of police cars outside a fancy apartment building filled the screen, along with a headshot of Jason Rivers flashing his famous smile.

Alex had never been much for celebrity gossip, but even he knew who Jason Rivers was. Who didn't? His face was everywhere – movies, magazines, billboards. To think that he was dead... it seemed impossible. The man was a legend!

Shaking his head, Alex closed the browser. Celebrity news, no matter how shocking, didn't change the fact that these spreadsheets needed to be finished tonight.

An hour later, Alex finally hit 'send' on the last email. Leaning back in his chair, he allowed himself a moment of victory. The project was done, the client would be happy, and with any luck, this would lead to the promotion Alex had been angling for.

Standing up, Alex began to gather his things, shoving papers haphazardly into a worn messenger bag. A flash of lightning illuminated the office, followed almost immediately by a crack of thunder that made him jump.

"Great," Alex muttered, looking out at the deluge. "Just what I needed."

The drive home was usually about thirty minutes, but in this weather, it would likely take twice that. Alex briefly considered calling a cab but quickly dismissed the idea. His budget was tight enough as it was, without splurging on unnecessary expenses.

Pulling on a rain jacket that had seen better days, Alex made a dash for the parking garage. Even that short distance left him soaked, water dripping from his hair as he climbed into his old Honda Civic.

The car protested as Alex turned the key, engine sputtering before finally catching. "Come on, old girl," Alex said, patting the dashboard. "Just get me home."

As he pulled out onto the street, the full force of the storm became apparent. Rain lashed against the windshield, the wipers barely keeping up. Wind buffeted the small car, making it drift in its lane.

Alex leaned forward, squinting to see through the rain. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, body tense with the effort of maintaining control.

A flash of lightning lit up the sky, accompanied by a boom of thunder so loud it seemed to shake the car. Alex flinched, the car swerving slightly before he corrected.

"Easy," Alex said out loud, trying to calm his nerves. "Almost there. Just a few more miles."

But fate had other plans. As Alex approached an intersection, the traffic light ahead suddenly went dark. In the split second it took to process this, a pair of headlights appeared to the right, coming fast.

Alex's eyes widened in horror. Time seemed to slow down as he realized what was about to happen. He slammed on the brakes, but on the wet road, it made little difference.

The impact, when it came, was deafening. Metal crunched, glass shattered. Alex felt the car spin, helpless to stop it. There was a moment of weightlessness as the car flipped, then a sickening crunch as it came to rest on its roof.

Hanging upside down, held in place by the seatbelt, Alex struggled to remain conscious. The taste of blood filled his mouth, and a sharp pain in his side made it hard to breathe.

As darkness began to creep in at the edges of his vision, Alex had a strangely detached thought: "I'm going to miss that promotion."

Then, mercifully, everything went black.

In the span of a few hours, two lives had been irrevocably changed. One ended, one hanging by a thread.