I satin one of those uncomfortable folding chairs they always had on set, in the corner of the studio. Crew members adjusted the lights, wrangled cables, and called out orders in that frantic, “organized chaos” that photo shoots always seemed to go. It was all background noise to me at this point. I focused on my phone, anyway, typing out a message to Jules:
What time lunch today?
We gotta do late lunch. I’m stuck redoing freaking David’s presentation.
Why?
Because it’s ridiculous, that’s why.
I mean, why are you doing it? Make him redo it.
I can do it faster.
I’m sure you can. But why would you? It’s his job.
You sound like my therapist…
Just saying. You don’t have to do everybody’s job.
Ha.
Is this the part where you open up about your eldest daughter's trauma, realize you can’t shake me from your mind, and fall in love?
Don’t steal my move.
Come on, trauma dump on me. It’s so sexy finding a fellow traumatized perfectionist.
You first.
How is that fair?
I’m already introducing you to my grandma. That’s enough for one day.
Fair.
Send me the address, btw.
I felt like a goddamn teenager,staring at the screen, waiting for those three little dots to pop up. If she continued to answer, maybe I’d let myself be a little late for the shoot. I was a world-class asshole, after all. But the dots didn’t appear. She was probably back to fixing David’s presentation.
Fine. Work it is.
Vanessa materialized out of nowhere, ready to start a full day of pissing me off.
“If someone could only pay you to drop the phone for a few hours… Oh, wait! Youarebeing paid. And very well, I might add. Can we go?”
“I’ll be right there,” I muttered, not looking up. My thumb hovered over the screen, still holding onto the hope Jules would respond. I felt a mix of hope and fear. Yesterday, I had laid it all out for her—words I hadn’t even said to my ex of two years, but I had told Jules. Now, I was dealing with the anxiety of her not sending me the address for our lunch date.
Vanessa let out a loud sigh. “I’d like to have dinner at home tonight, so if you could hurry up, I’d appreciate it.”
“I have to be out by lunch.” My tone was firm. Non-negotiable.
Her eyes widened like I’d said I planned to set the studio on fire.
“Are you kidding me? I don’t think we’ll be done by then. Itoldyou to clear your schedule for the day.”
I met her gaze without blinking. “I have to meet a friend. I didn’t think a photo shoot would take so long.” The words came out calmer than I felt. I hated these things. I always had. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate what I had. I knew how lucky I was. Still, this wasn’t why I became an actor. I was a theater kid. I lovedacting. The photo shoots, the interviews, the endless parade of appearances—it was the price of admission, and I’d accepted it.
I owed it to a lot of people to suck it up. My younger self, for one. The awkward, weird kid who dreamed big enough to get here in the first place. And my mom. She’d fought for me many times, especially against my dad, who thought my dreams were ridiculous and embarrassing. So yeah, I’d do the shoot. But today? I wasn’t staying longer than I had to. Not when Jules was waiting.
