“Enough for myself.” I confirm.
“And fuck the rest.”
I give her a watery smile.
“Nope. You’re going to have to repeat that one out loud.”
“Fuck the rest,” I say with a smile as the burden of an invisible weight on my shoulders begins to lift ever so slightly.
The acrid smell of smoke fills the kitchen.
“Shit!” Jill shoots up, grabbing the burnt cookies from the oven.
“Sorry my crash out interrupted the baking.”
“There’s no one I’d rather burn my cookies for. Come on, no reason we can’t remake them.” She pulls out the flour again, undoubtedly ready to square up with another ball of dough.
An hour later, we’re painting the buttercream icing on the cookies. I wasn’t aware this was something one could do, but Jill makes it look easy. Her cookies look like perfect vibrant sunflowers, whereas mine are more in line with Audrey the Plant. But my cheeks hurt from smiling, and tossing those pills in the garbage has filled me with a joy I haven’t felt in a long time. For the first time in a while, I’m optimistic.
My palms shouldn’t be sweating, and it shouldn’t feel like I’m about to be sick. I’m just calling my agent. Having a quick, and hopefully easy conversation. I’ve rehearsed it countless times in my head. But it doesn’t matter when Anita picks up on the second ring and she already sounds annoyed.
“Yes, Clover?” She asks.
“Anita, hi.” I backpedal, trying to force some pleasantries.
“What do you need?”
Alright, straight into it then…
“Um,” I kick myself mentally for sounding so unsure already. Taking a deep breath, I shake my head and start again. “I was wondering if you had any recommendations for someone I could talk to, like a therapist or something? I’d normally just Google it or something but I want to be cautious with the paparazzi following me more closely now.”
“Why would you want to talk to a therapist?” She sounds taken aback.
“There are a few things I’m having a hard time with, and I was hoping that talking to someone could help?” I’m confused as to howshe’s confused.
“Clover, I don’t think that’s necessary.”
My mouth pops open and I have a hard time forming words for a few seconds. Of all the ways I anticipated this conversation would go, this simply wasn’t one of them. “I just really think that–”
“I’ve got to take another call. Let’s try to nail the stunt tomorrow.” She hangs up without another word, and I see red.
Oh rest assured, Anita. I’ll make sure to nail that stunt tomorrow purely out of spite and determination.
I feel more than ready to get back to filming. I’m itching to show everyone that I can do the stunt and make up for the trouble with an incredible performance. After Tanya hands me my ass, that is.
Hand my ass to me Tanya does. Luckily, she does me the courtesy of doing it in private.
After what has to be the longest lecture about on-set stunt safety, she waits for me to answer. Her shoulders are up, and she is ready to argue.
“You’re right. I fucked up, and I’m sorry,” I admit.
Instantly her shoulders lower, and her expression softens.
“I put everyone in a bad position, and I should’ve called it off before the jump.”
Tanya fights a small smile. “Thanks, kid.” Stepping forward, she pulls me into a quick, tight hug. A rare display of affection from the otherwise unflappable Tanya. It’s a bit of anawkward hug, but it feels nice to know she’s not mad at me before we resume filming.
The cast and crew circle up before we shoot for the day. No doubt people are nervous about the stunt today. That’s fine, they’re allowed to be. What matters is how I feel about it. And I feel strong and ready to do what I need to do .
