“And your kid’s nanny,” Christopher reminds me none-too-subtly.
I nod to him so he knows the message has been received, then make my way over to the pool. Sunny is correcting Imogen’s dive form on the pool deck when I reach them.
“Hi, girls.”
“Dad! Sunny is teaching me how to dive like her! Did you see me? Watch!” She bends her knees and puts her arms in a little V-shape in front of her. The plastic splint on her injured wrist looks like it’s hanging on for dear life.
“Just a sec, kiddo,” I put a hand on her shoulder. “So…”Man, I hate being the bad guy. I know this about myself. Why did I volunteer for this, again? I should’ve sent the random dude from craft services to be the killjoy. I look at Sunny. “The noise is messing up the shots,” I say with a cringe, hoping she’ll fill in the blanks.
I can’t tell if her face is red from all the sun, or if I made her blush, but she stammers, “I-I’m so sorry! We’ll go! Come on, Im.”
“I was just getting the hang of it,” she whines, tugging her little swimsuit back in place on her backside. This kid has a constant wedgie at the pool. Strangely enough, this makes me wish I was swimming with my kid today instead of arguing with Micah Watson in front of a camera. And behind a camera.
“Tell you what. Let me finish working and maybe we can sneak into the pool tonight.” Immy’s eyes brighten at my words. “As longas no one tells the owner of the resort what we’re doing,” I say in a mock-whisper for Sunny’s benefit.
Sunny does a zipper motion with her fingers over her lips and makes her way to the chaise where they stashed their towels. I can’t help but follow her.
“I’m sorry we messed you guys up. I had no idea—”
“No worries. Most of the afternoon was action shots and stuff. Sound wasn’t an issue. But right now it’s all dialogue. I’m arguing with Micah’s character.”
“Sounds like a party.” She wraps a towel around her torso and tucks the corner into the top to hold it in place. How does she make something so innocent look so provocative?
It’s a towel, you animal.
Meanwhile, Imogen is doing her best to imitate Sunny’s towel trick, but it keeps falling apart. Sunny leans down to tighten my daughter’s towel and tuck the end.
Once she’s all put together, Immy’s watery blue eyes find mine. “Can we come watch you, Dad?”
Sunny shakes her head. “We should go home. We’re not dressed for it, and it’s about time for dinner, anyway.” She takes my daughter’s hand and my eyes are fixed on her.
I can’t let them leave, and I love the idea of having them on set, as distracting as they are. “It’s no biggie. Come watch for just a minute.” I crouch down so I’m eye level with my daughter. “You remember the rules on set?”
Immy grins and bobs her head up and down. “No talking, no touching, and make faces at Micah when he isn’t looking,” she repeats from memory with a sober expression.
“Good—”
“BECK!” Christopher’s voice booms through the air, from a megaphone that I have never seen before. He must have bought it especially for me. I’m flattered. The entire cast and crew is watchingus, including Oliver, whose stern eyes are shooting Death Star-like lasers at us.
I take Immy’s hand and we stroll back to set, despite Sunny’s protests. I’m annoyed with Christopher and his megaphone, so I take my time.
19. Sunny Considers Adopting Cats
This isn’t happening. I have to wake up from this nightmare. But I’m starting to think I’m awake and this is really happening. I am having my first real in-person interaction with Micah Watson and my hair is dripping down my back. I also likely have mascara under my eyes, and I’m wearing a soggy, somewhat saggy swimsuit left over from last summer. My only hope is to blend into the background like a sagebrush.
I lead Immy to a low rock wall to sit, as still as shrubbery, far away from Christopher Marchant, who is glaring at me, and Micah Watson, whose gaze hasn’t left his phone since we got here. Some guy shoves a tablet in my face and has me sign away half of my First Amendment rights under threat of execution if I reveal any footage or even descriptions of what I witness on set. Or something like that. I read no part of the legal document—I am too busy wondering if Micah sees me, while also not caring if he does, while also observing how scrumptious Anders looks in his costume. Those costume designers know exactly what they’re doing with that slightly torn, fitted t-shirt.
The set has a lot more going on than I imagined. There’s just a lot ofstuff—contraptions I can’t name, lights, cameras, and some smalltracks on the ground for moving the cameras. And there are so many people standing around. There are costumers, make-up artists, people with walkie-talkies, some moving the unnamed apparatuses around, some standing at a table covered with food.
A guy touches up Anders’ make-up. The men take their places. The director says, “Go.” And Micah and Anders start going at it. An asteroid could rip through the sky and land in my lap, and it wouldn’t pull my attention away from this scene. On screen, these men capture attention. In person, they are riveting.
They spar for a few minutes before a voice interrupts them. “Cut.” The director’s voice is firm, and I don’t know the guy, but he sounds kind of peeved.
They reset, return to their marks, and start again. I wish I had some popcorn and a Coke Icee. I could watch this for hours. They’re a few lines of dialog past the first take when Christopher barks, “Cut!” He waves Micah and Anders over and they exchange words. The expression on Micah’s face is… haughty. It’s not a look I’ve seen on him before. It’s not an attractive look, which I didn’t think was possible. He has plenty of angry words for Anders. I can’t hear much from here, but as the conversation gets more heated, I hear Micah snark, “... that girl needs to go.”
Is Micah talking about me? Or Imogen?
One thing I am certain of—no matter who he’s talking about—is I don’t like the way he’s talking to anyone. It’s like he’s the sun at the center of this movie set and everyone else is orbiting him. His needs trump everyone else’s. Between takes, Frankie holds a small fan up to his face and he rolls his eyes, batting it away.
