She bounces out of the trailer, leaving me with the many parts of my costume to wrestle into and script changes I’ve only half memorized. I decipher the new dialogue and repeat it to myself as I dress, get wardrobe checked, and submit to makeup, which consists mostly of heavy eyeliner so my eyes don’t completely disappear under the ridiculous visor.
I run into the director,Troy, on my way to the beach where we’re shooting. We met before back in LA when he first got assigned to the project. He’s dressed casually in a t-shirt with an open button-up over it and a pair of cargo shorts—a look I’ve seen a lot from directors that clearly says “I’m the most important person on set, and you have to do what I say, no matter how I dress.”
Troy smiles and waves at me. “Blake!” he shouts. “Good to see you. You ready to go?”
“Sure am.” I’m still running through the new lines in my head like a kid expecting a pop quiz, and I hope it doesn’t show. At my level of success, no one expects nervousness, but especially with a new director, I never know if they’re going to expect me to get the lines word-perfect or if it’s okay if I say what feels natural as long as I catch the important bits. I work far better with the second kind.
“Good to hear it.” He gestures to a woman beside him. She looks pretty enough to be an actress herself, with long blond hair and chiseled features. In fact, she looks like one of the Kim-clones I’ve dated, all lined up inInTouch Weeklyto prove the point. She smiles at me, but it’s made out of plastic, and I can tell that it’s not her usual expression.
“This is Sarah Paltrow,”Troy says. “My assistant. She’ll show you to your chair while the set people finish up with the beach.”
I recognize the name—we’ve emailed about the project in depth. I’ve wondered if she’s any relation to Gwyneth.
“Right this way, Mr. Pless,” she says in a crisp British accent.
I force another smile. “Call me Blake.” I’m going to say this a hundred times today.
Sarah leads me to a chair out on the sand, covered in a pop-up canopy.The staff has set up water bottles and a makeup kit to fix my face between shots. I can see Kelsey across the way, huddling under the wardrobe tent, keeping the backup supplies from blowing away.
On the other side of the tent, Kim sits in her chair—on the exact opposite side of the crew set-up. I so rarely see her in person that I almost feel like I’m celebrity sighting.Oh my god, there’s Kim Watterson, drinking from a water bottle as she’s about to start her first scene.She’s beautiful as ever—by far the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a disproportionate number of lookers. She’s ready in her Hemlock costume—a corset over tiny green shorts, fishnet pantyhose, and knee-high boots—which I swear gets skimpier with every film. I’ve seen the first two, of course. I still watch all her movies, though I stream them instead of going to the theater. No need for the tabloids to report aboutthat.
Kim runs a hand through her loose hair beneath the crown of silver branches affixed to her head. My heart is pounding, like I’m seeing a ghost. Unlike your average celebrity watcher, I have a good idea what’s going through Kim’s head right now. She’s always nervous the first day of a shoot, because she doesn’t yet know what the set culture will be like.This is especially true with a new director and new co-stars. She and I have worked together a ton, but never since Lukas was born.
She’s probably thinking about how much she’s dreading working with the man who let her down.
I sit back in my seat and shift my gaze to the ocean.The waves roll in—not big enough for good surfing, so Ivy and I will have to find out where to find better waves when we go.
I glance back at Kim, wishing she wasn’t so far away, so I could talk to her and make it look casual.They’ve done this on purpose, of course, to give us both separate places to retreat to. I should be grateful, and I’m sure Kim probably is, but it all just makes it more awkward, like we’re not adults who can speak to one another.
We aren’t, but I wish we were, and if this film is going to work as a stepping stone to get us there, someone has to break the ice. Kim shifts in her chair, reaching for a bowl on her side table, beside her water bottle.
Her M&Ms. Kim always gets nervous on the first day of a shoot, and the M&Ms—the perfect mix—is her way of calming down. I’ve snuck peanut butter M&Ms into the mix on every project we’ve ever done together, and I bribed a staffer to do it for me on a few that I wasn’t present for, back when we were married. I catch the eye of my assistant Cassie, talking to Sarah on the other side of the sprawl of beach where we’re about to shoot. She gives me a thumbs-up.
Her secret mission is complete, which means Kim’s perfect blend of M&Ms has been spiked. I wait for her to notice and either shoot me a death glare or smile. Either would be progress from the way she’s pointedly ignoring me.
Instead she pushes the bowl across the table to the far side, her face hardening in disgust. She shivers, wraps her arms around herself, and looks down at the sand.
My stomach sinks. I debated about those damn candies for weeks. Should I sneak them in? Should I not? I only meant it as a joke, to make her smile.
She’s not smiling now. God, we’ve been on set together less than ten minutes, and I’ve already managed to screw this up.
I sit back in my chair and take a sip from my water bottle.
I need to get a grip. Kim and I are divorced. I shouldn’t care what my ex-wife thinks of me. I shouldn’t care if something I did annoys her or if she wants to ignore me. It’s been six years, and she must expect me to have moved on by now. God knows she has.
I watch a wave crash on the beach. It’s warmer here than it was on the beach where we first met, filming our first scene forOver It. We’d sat on the edge of the boat where we were about to make out, and I, newbie actor that I was, had the nerve to ask her if she wanted to rehearse.
Imeantit—damn, was I nervous, and I just wanted to run the scene and kiss her once there on the set before the cameras turned on, to get the jitters out of the way. Kim decided I was hitting on her and told me that she doesn’t get involved with co-stars, and therefore she was never, ever,evergoing to sleep with me.
We used to laugh at the memory, but now it stings.I can do this, I tell myself. I’m one of the top ten highest paid actors in Hollywood, and I’ve been pretending to be okay with my breakup with Kim to every news publication, co-star, and girlfriend I’ve had over the last six years, not to mention Kim herself.
I remember vaguely that I wanted to do this film, wanted to be around Kim and see her smile, even if it’s never directed at me anymore. I stare down at my water bottle.This morning on this beach, Farpoint is going to save Hemlock from an attack by a sea hydra, the first scene of their slow-burn romantic arc.
That’s when I realize what I really wanted. Kim’s going to look at me like she sees something in me, something that excites and attracts her.The way Hemlock has to look at Farpoint.The way Kim Watterson used to look at me.
My heart aches, because I know I’m going to get what I wanted, but it will never be real again.
Imagining that it could is just torturing myself.
