Also seated at the table are fellow members of the docuseries’ production team. I wish now that I had pressed Dawson about the series. It feels odd to ask about it in front of everyone, yet it also feels rude not to acknowledge it. The group is obviously proud of the work they did on the project; heck, it’s up for an Emmy.
So far tonight, they’ve introduced the five, competing docuseries. I only wish they’d have introduced Dawson’s before now so I could be in the loop.
“You know,” I say, “What Marsha didn’t tell you guys, and I’m not sure she will, is that I have no idea whether Nick’s character is a half-Z or a zompire. My script doesn’t say.”
Shelly Latham gasps. “You’re kidding! So you’ll find out along with everyone else?”
“Are you saying Dawson here hasn’t told you either?” Patrick asks with a slap to Dawson’s back.
“Actually,” Dawson says, looking chagrined as he glances in my direction. He leans forward like he’s about to share a secret.
The others at the table do the same, including me.
“Not evenIknow what Nick is,” he confesses.
At first, I think he’s teasing, but then he elaborates.
“I told Brinley it was in my script, mainly because I hoped she’d try to bribe it out of me, but it didn’t work.”
“Wow,” Shelly says.
“Seriously,” someone else says with a head shake.
The table collectively straightens, responding in hushed tones.
I look Dawson in the eye as I take that in. “Are you serious? This whole time you never knew what Nick was either?”
“Nope.”
The fact doesn’t bother me, I guess. It’s just…weird that he made me think he knew. “Do you get to choose which one you are?” I ask.
“My script says they’ll tell me at the last minute.”
Hmm.
“But she hasn’t told you the best part,” Dawson says.
All eyes fall on me. I know what he’s referring to, and since it’s an interesting tidbit that Marsha hasn’t yet mentioned, I tell them. “You guys know that Libby has a big choice to make at the end, right?”
“Right,” a few say.
“To test out the Fix,” Shelly adds.
Others just nod.
“Well, the script doesn’t tell me which one to choose. I’m supposed to do that on my own.”
“One ofthose, huh?” Patrick says with a chuckle.
“Open-ended script,” Dawson confirms.
Shelly’s eyes go wide at the news. “This is a thing?” She engages the others at the table by pinning each with an expectant look. “Can you guys believe this is a thing?”
Her enthusiasm is met with nods of appreciation. “I hadn’t heard of it,” one says.
Shelly turns her gaze back on me. “How are you so calm, dear? I’d be in a panic if I were you. I have a hard enough time acting when I knowexactlywhat the other characters are going to say and do. But having to choose myself? And then not knowing what Dawson will say or do in response?”
“It’s called improv, my dear,” Patrick says with a gleam in his eye.
