But I also haven’t gotten over the void she left in my life when she was no longer there.
“Look, I’m not just trying to make her a villain. Maybe on the surface, yes, but it’s deeper than that. I’m trying to help craft a story and a character that audiences can relate to. Someone they can see themselves in and, ultimately, someone they can forgive—for all the same flaws they have. Reality TV is cathartic for some people, Chloe. It’s not just trash, as much as you might think it is.”
I glance at Demi, taking in her expression, her eyes bright and oddly earnest for a change. She’s being frank with me, but not in an unkind way, and while I know her end goal is to create great TV, it doesn’t feel like she’s trying to push me into doing anything wrong. It’s more like she’s opened up to me, sharing something that she’s passionate about, the same way my cousin would talk my ear off about his rock collection when we were kids.
Incidentally, he did end up becoming a geologist.
“So, your plan is to get Molly to doubt that maybe Duncan isn’t as into her as he appears?” I say, finally.
“Exactly. It’ll cause a rift, and she’ll have to either work harder, or abandon ship—no pun intended.”
I’m still not warming up to the idea, but I can admit Demi’s plan seems fairly sound—for the show. Her instincts as a storyteller are on point, and if her job was less about manipulating people in a vulnerable setting, I’d probably be anxious to work with her again.
Still, I just don’t see how gossip on Molly from her college days would be especially useful in this context. When I mention this to Demi, she sighs.
“Come on, Chloe, this is Producing 101. I need to understand her as a person. Molly isn’t giving me jack shit. She’s completely closed off. I need to figure out what I can say to her, or to Duncan, to cause some tension.”
Something clicks for me in that instant. It’s not that Demi wants to understandallof Molly. I mean, I doubt she really wants to know that Molly was so obsessed with Audrey Hepburn that she would watchBreakfast at Tiffany’sandRoman Holidayevery year on her birthday. Or that I once held her all night as she cried over a bird that had hit a window and died a few hours later.
Those aren’t the facets of Molly she wants to understand.
She wants to understand her core wounds.
That’s what it is, right? Pull from Molly’s trauma, figure out her pain points—tell her she’s not worth loving, or that she doesn’t have the capacity for real empathy—in an attempt to make her lash out against Duncan, acting out of the belief that those awful things are true?
It just goes to show that Demi doesn’t know Molly. That kind of tactic might work on someone else, but when Molly feels threatened, she doesn’t lose control.
She gets mean, and then she runs.
I notice Molly’s attention has zeroed in on us. Her smile falters momentarily before she turns her attention back to the DOP and continues speaking to him. The look on his face becomes sombre for a moment as he leans in closer, listening intently to what she’s saying with a seriousness that feels out-of-place for a tiki-themed bar.
Her gaze slides to me again, and this time,hisfollows. Without another beat, the DOP takes one look at me, throws his head back, and laughs. A cruel smirk blossoms across Molly’s face as she stares haughtily at me.
Look, this isn’t the first time I’ve caught someone talking about me. I’ve been on the receiving end of every clichéd mean-girl tactic popular in the ’90s and 2000s, and I sort of stopped caring around the time I hit my mid-twenties.
People talk. Sometimes they’re not exactly discreet.
But this?Thiswas deliberate.
She knew I was watching, and she knew I would see the entire thing play out.
See?Mean. And why? For what?
I haven’t evendoneanything to her.
Heat rises in me, and my whole body suddenly feels like it’s been set on fire. The tips of my ears are hot—a weird sensation I’ve always experienced when I’m angry—and I can’t help but wonder what she said about me to make him laugh like that. I didn’t even think he knew who I was.
The DOP is still trying to contain his laughter while stealing furtive glances our way, and now Molly is giggling, too. Demi hasn’t caught the exchange, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever Molly said will be crew gossip by this time tomorrow, and I won’t exactly be the under-the-radar B-cam operator anymore.
Hatred consumes me in a monstrous wave, swallowing me whole.
I turn back to Demi. “To be honest, I don’t think you’ll be able to get a good redemption arc from that one.”
Her brows shoot up as curiosity flares behind her eyes. “Why not?”
“Because she’s beyond redemption,” I hiss. I start to pack up my camera as my head spins, a hurricane of thoughts running through my mind—all the things I want to say about the woman I used to love like a sister. The woman who was there for me whenever grief from my mom’s death crept into my daily life, who punched a boy in the face without hesitation when he referred to me as “the weird tall girl” in English class.
Molly was my heart for so long. I don’t even know how I would have survived college without her there to remind me of who I was and where I was going.
