Aaron’s eyes are widening more with each new instruction, but he nods along as I talk.
“ . . . and the vertigo shouldn’t be a problem, as long as he takes his pills three times a day,” I say, pulling Costanza’s pill bottle out of my purse and handing it to Aaron. “I’ve given him his morning pill, and I’ll give him one at night, but you’ll need to give him one at noon. If he won’t take it from you, you can wrap it in some meat—he loves bologna. If you haven’t given him the pill by about one, you’ll notice he’s starting to get dizzy and—Costanza, no!”
Aaron swears and drops the pill bottle, jumping back—but not soon enough—as Costanza lifts his leg and pisses right down the leg of Aaron’s jeans and onto his Vans.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, cringing. “I just had him out, and he usually doesn’t—”
“It’s fine, Ms. Watterson,” Aaron says, clearly trying to stifle a grimace as he shakes excess urine from his pant leg. “Really, it’s—I’ll take him out and then come back and clean this up.”
“No, Aaron, I’ll get this.” I give him an apologetic smile. “Cleaning up piss is something I do more often than you’d imagine.”
Aaron laughs at this, but I can tell by the way he runs his hand through his hair that he’s realizing Costanza duty may be more than he bargained for.
I take a deep breath. Costanza will get used to Aaron, and the two will be best buddies by the end of this shoot. I’ll buy the kid new pants.
It’ll all be okay.
“Oh,” Aaron says, as he heads to the door with Costanza’s leash in hand. “There’s a new call sheet on the vanity. You’ll want to look it over.They switched the order of your first two scenes since the email last night.”
Great. My first scene initially didn’t involve Blake. I’d been glad I could get through that always nerve-wracking “first scene” without adding him to the mix.
But I keep my expression even. “Sounds good. And my M&Ms?”
“All taken care of.”
It’s a stupid thing, and probably comes across as a diva move—maybe it is, a little—but on my first day filmingSpy Highat fifteen, the caterer left me a bowl filled with a mix of regular and peanut M&Ms. Ever since, I’ve considered that snack to be a good luck charm on the first day of any new project. I always have a little baggie or bowl right before I run my first scene.Two-to-one regular to peanut, exactly.
I’d had a coffee mug full of them in hand the day I met Blake, right before our first scene. He looked so nervous, sitting on the edge of the dilapidated rowboat in which we were about to make out. Flipping through his script, chewing at his lower lip.
He’d only been in two other films before that, both of them smaller roles. He’d never done a kissing scene before, I was pretty sure—though a guy as hot as him surely had plenty of real-world experience.
I introduced myself and offered him some M&Ms. “It’s the perfect mix,” I said, explaining the ratio.
He paused, like he was considering, and then said, “It can’t be the perfect mix without peanut butter.”
“In your extensive experience with perfect candy mixes.”
He smiled, and my heart did a backflip in my chest. “Because I have a sense of taste, Watterson. You should try it.”
I told him I’d never dilute my perfect mix by adding a lesser M&M.
“We’ll see about that,” he said, that mischievous gleam in his eyes I grew so quickly to love.
From then on, every film we were in together, he’d find some way to sneak a handful of peanut butter M&Ms into my bowl. And every time, he’d deny being the one who did it, those gorgeous blue-green eyes flashing at me.
Will he do that again, for old times’ sake? Or won’t he?
I feel a hollow ache at either thought.
“Thanks, Aaron,” I say, feeling tears starting to well up.Tears. Over stupid candy mix. I clear my throat, forcing the emotion back down. “If Costanza gets to be too much—”
“It’ll be okay, Ms. Watterson,” he says, and tugs the leash to guide Costanza forward and out the door, leaving a urine-lined footprint in his wake. Costanza whines at being pulled away from me, and Aaron has to all but haul him out. “I’ve got this,” Aaron says, just before he closes the door.
His words sound much more assured than his tone.
I’ve got this, I tell myself. But I’m even less convincing than Aaron.
Four
