“I thought he was great,” I say.
“You guys had amazing chemistry,” Evan interjects.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Canon says. “But I want to see the tape.”
“It was so weird interacting with him as an adult,” I admit, giggling a little. “I remember watching him on TV when he was like twelve years old.”
“So do I!” Arietta laughs, widening her eyes. “They used to pour goop all over him every episode of that show.”
“And he had that thing where he always rang the doorbell that made the goose-honk sound,” I add.
“I didn’t watch this show,” Canon says. “But it sounds pathetic.”
“First of all,” Arietta teases breezily. “You’re older than we are.”
“How much older?” I ask before I can stop myself, and then regret it when his dark, assessing gaze lands on me.
“You’re what?” he asks. “Thirty?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Same as me,” Arietta squeals, giving me a high five across the table.
“I’m thirty-seven,” Canon offers.
“Same as me.” Evan imitates Arietta’s squeal and goes for a high five, which Canon deflects with an eye roll. We all laugh and Canon allows a small twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“You were probably in college or something by the time that show was popular,” Arietta continues. “So that’s first of all. AndBof all, your mother wouldn’t have let you watch it anyway.”
“Now that’s true,” Evan says. “I’ve heard you say Mama Holt was strict about that stuff.”
“You didn’t watch television growing up?” I ask him.
“Some on the weekends.” Canon signals for a waiter before looking back to me. “She wasn’t a big fan of TV.”
“And I thought our television was a relative until I was like five years old.” I laugh. “I don’t remember a babysitter, but I remember our TV.”
“Movies were different,” Canon says. “She’d take me out of school so we could see a new movie together. She took me to seeForrest Gumpthe day it released. That movie still gets me.”
The Magic Hour,Canon’s highly personal documentary about his mother’s journey with MS, was the first work of his I ever saw. It’s surreal that I’m sitting here with him now.
“That’s when you knew you wanted to be a director?” Arietta asks.
“It was a hundred movies that probably showed me that.” Canon tips his chin in thanks when the server sets a drink down in front of him. “The Godfather,Glory,Taxi Driver,Do the Right Thing. The list is endless, but I definitely knew very early on.”
“Did your mother ever want you to be a photographer like her?” I ask.
He doesn’t seem surprised that I already know this much about his background, his family, and I’m struck anew by fame and how it cracks open the book of your life for people to read before they’ve even met you or know anything about the person behind the stories they’ve heard.
“Never.” Canon shakes his head, affection softening the line of his mouth. “She wanted me to be whatever I decided—to be true to that.”
“What we doing?”
I turn at the deep voice, delighted to see Monk standing by our table. Without thinking, I stand and give him a tight hug. He rocks me a little and kisses my cheek.
“Hey, superstar,” he says, taking the empty seat by Canon. “How you liking LA?”
“It’s great,” I reply, sitting back down. “I’m glad I got to see you before I leave tomorrow.”
