The knock at his trailer door had him sitting straight up. It wasn’t his call time yet, but perhaps the writers wanted to speak to him about some of his notes. Unlikely, given how quickly they’d dismissed him, but one could dream. The script was fine but it was also incredibly... boring. And so was his character.
He opened the door and took a step back, he was so startled.
Was he a wizard? How had he conjured this? “Jia.”
“Hi.” She gave him a little wave.
He’d always thought American accents to be flat and boring, but her voice was anything but. She had a slightly different cadence when she spoke in person. Online, there were more peaks and valleys, and it felt like there was an inflated quality, like a bright and bubbly glass of champagne. Offline, it was more natural, throatier, but no less vibrant. No, he wasn’t watching her videos any longer... but he may have fallen asleep to one last night.
Do not tell her that you fell asleep to a video of her explaining the differences between fake eyelashes. Actually, don’t tell anyone that.
She stood with one foot on the step up to his trailer. He would be perpetually surprised at how small she was. Herpersonality made her seem bigger. She wore wide-legged black slacks and a cream sweater today, her hair covered by a light gray scarf. Her makeup was equally muted.
He wasn’t a man who had ever understood or paid attention to makeup, but after watching so many of her videos, he wondered what had made her choose that coral lipstick and light blush. Online, at least, she seemed to choose each color and brand deliberately.
What on earth was she doing here? He glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying them attention. As he’d learned, though, one could never predict where a photographer was hiding or who on set may have seen the photo and gossip floating around today. “Would you like to come in?”
“Yes, please.”
He backed up so she could come inside. Dev quickly checked himself out in the mirror hanging behind the door. Yes, tie straight, jacket lint-free, glasses clear.
She glanced around the trailer curiously, but it was a standard set trailer. He’d put nothing of himself in it. “Have a seat.” He gestured at the table, since the couch had his script spread out all over it. “Would you like a drink?”
She sat down. “I don’t want to put you through any trouble—”
“Not trouble. I was about to have some iced tea.” He wasn’t, but it was hot out and there was a tiny trickle of sweat at her temple.
“I’d like some as well, then.”
He grabbed two bottles of iced tea from the stocked fridgehe barely touched and brought them to the table, sitting across from her. This felt oddly intimate, but it shouldn’t. People took business meetings in their trailers all the time. It’s not like this was his bedroom or anything.
She took a long sip and set the bottle down. “I’m sorry to bother you here.”
It wasn’t only her makeup. There was something more subdued about her today, like her anger and indignation had been calmed, though he wasn’t sure by what. “How did you get on the set?”
“Eh. It’s easy enough to know somebody who knows somebody in this city.”
“I... assume you saw the photo of us.”
“I did.”
“And you saw what they implied?” He tried to keep his tone matter-of-fact, but wasn’t sure if he succeeded.
She nodded.
He winced. “I apologize. I truly was trying to shield us from a photographer. I didn’t think there would be someone else.”
“Who would?” She gave a halfhearted smile. “Everyone’s paparazzi these days.”
“Indeed.”
She placed her purse on the table. “My family saw it.”
He grimaced. “They recognized you? I’m sorry, I told myself the only good thing was that your face was obscured.”By my body.He took a sip of his iced tea to get the word out of his head. No need to go thinking about bodies around thiswoman. “Are they particularly conservative?”
“Not terribly conservative, but they worry.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I am usually careful about paparazzi. I became too relaxed here.”
