“Yeah, I’ll talk to them.” I hesitate and then push forward. “I’m going to tell them Neevah needs a kidney in case there’s anyone who wants to be tested. You okay with that?”
“We can give them the info. No pressure to do anything with it. That’s what they said you should do, right? Put the call out to everyone you know so we can get Neevah a new kidney as soon as possible.”
“Yeah.” I drum my fingers on the table, the restlessness due only in part to not shooting the last few days. “She still needs to talk to her family about it.”
Surprise raises Evan’s brows. “They don’t already know?”
“It’s… awkward. They haven’t been close in years, and… anyway. She can’t put it off much longer.”
“Speaking of awkward,” Evan says, standing from the table. “Let’s go ask for a kidney.”
We walk across the hall to the large ballroom where the cast and crew are assembled, waiting. Their expressions range from curious to concerned. When you lose the star of a movie, depending on what stage, it could mean in the worst-case scenarios, the movie never sees the light of day and a production falls apart. Or it could mean reshooting. Or making do and cobbling together whatever you can without the actor. This project has put a lot of people to work, and I know they’re glad to get paid, but I believe they all share my passion for the stories and contributions that slipped through history’s cracks. The Black people who deserved better from this country. They’re not sure what will become ofDessi Blue. My job, right now, is to reassure them.
“Hey, guys,” I say, sitting on the lip of the small stage at the front of the room. “Hope you enjoyed your day off. You’re welcome, and don’t get used to it.”
Their faint laughter breaks some of the tension.
“So, you all know Neevah was sick on set a few days ago and has been in the hospital. We have a little more information now, so I wanted to update you on her condition and how that will affect production.”
Jill, Kenneth, and Monk are seated at a table up front, only a few feet away, and Jill meets my eyes with a sad smile.
“Neevah has lupus,” I say, cutting to the heart of it.
A few people in the room gasp. Sounds of dismay and concern drift through the crowd.
“I know everyone has different ideas about what lupus is, what it can do, and what it means, but Neevah is a fighter and is getting the best care we could ask for. Her doctor is working hard to get her back on set as soon as possible.”
“Thank God,” someone says.
“As you know,” I say, “we’ve only got about three weeks left in production. Most of you will be done shooting once we leave Santa Barbara. A few scenes on the back lots, and we’ll be done. The majority of what’s left only affects Neevah, Trey, and the musicians from the cast. We’ll do the musical numbers back in LA. Neevah should be returning in the next day or so to wrap up our Riviera shots.”
“Such good news,” Livvie says, relief evident in her smile.
“Getting Neevah well enough to return to workisn’tenough,” I say. “She needs a kidney.”
The room goes completely silent. Disbelief and horror mark their faces as I scan the room.
“She’s talking to her family, because that’s her best…” I squeeze the bridge of my nose and clench my teeth, holding on to my composure. “… her best shot, but the medical team encouraged her to put the call out as far as possible. Family, friends, the community. There is absolutely no pressure to do this, but if anyone wants to check if they’re a match, Graham has the information. I already tried.” I heave a sigh and spread a rueful grin around the room. “Unfortunately, I’m not the right blood type, but we’ll keep looking.”
Evan stands and comes to sit on the edge of the stage beside me. “Are there any questions, concerns, anything, about how we move forward and finish this movie strong?”
“I have a question,” Livvie says. “Um, will we have notice before Neevah comes back?”
“Like a day, probably,” I say. “Plenty of time to prepare to shoot.”
“I wasn’t thinking about shooting,” she says. “I mean, of course that, but I thought it might be kinda cool to have a cake or something. Just to welcome her back and let her know we love her.”
The image of Neevah’s bright smile, her stuttering explanation when she gave me gingerbread cookies for Christmas, pounces my heart in my chest. She baked cookies for the whole cast and crew.
God, she’s sweet, and if anything happens to her…
“That’s a great idea, Livvie,” Jill adds, her eyes bright with tears and eagerness.
“She loves red velvet.” Takira, who’s been quiet the whole time, swipes at the corner of one eye. “And I think she’d really appreciate that.”
Seeing how this team has bonded around this story, and now how they’re rallying around Neevah, moves something in me. Emotion climbs up my throat, and I don’t know if it’s the cumulative effect of all Neevah is facing and the emotional roller coaster of the last few days, or what. The compassion, the concern, the love they have for her, it washes over me, and I just want to get out of here before I lose it.
The group disperses, some clustering around Evan a few feet away, probably to ask questions they didn’t want to ask me. Jill takes the spot where Evan sat beside me onstage.
