The next couple days become a strange blur—a nice rosy-tinged, happy one, mostly, due to the thrill of being with Blake again. Filming this movie with Blake is now an entirely different experience than it had been previous to our hookup in my trailer. It’s almost like it was back at the beginning, back when we fell in love onOver It. We’re being professional, showing up on time—which means several minutes early—for each shoot, doing our jobs, but we can barely keep our hands off each other in between.
I’d feel significantly better if the situation with Ivy were resolved, but she’s spent the last few evenings avoiding both of us, saying she’s working on her list. She’s enough my daughter that I imagine she really has been working on it—and that said list will end up being several pages long, with concerns ranked in order of importance.
But whereas before being on set was something to endure, with all the pain acting with Blake again caused, now I’m back to feeling the excitement of what I get to do for a living—I’m a frigging action hero. And I get to make a movie with the man I love, who loves me. Who is also a frigging action hero. It’s awesome, and we are so lucky in so many ways.
Being with Blake has always been good for giving me that perspective.
Today’s shoot is on a downtown Miami street, closed off by police and bustling with extras filling in for pedestrian traffic. I’m not in this particular scene, but even though it’s roughly a million degrees out, and I could be cooling off in my trailer, I love to watch Blake work.
I also love to tease him about having to wear his costume when I’ve got another hour I can spend in jean shorts and a tank top.
Troy yells out for everyone to get back to their marks.The extras shuffle around, and Blake and Bertram find their taped Xs on the sidewalk to run through it again—a scene in which Farpoint is newly arrived on Earth and looking wide-eyed at the dubious wonders of downtown Miami. He’s walking with Naked Mole Rat (wearing a regular business suit, but still looking like a hairless man who recently emerged from a flour explosion), who is trying to convince Farpoint to join forces with him against a “lawless enemy” (me), but Farpoint can’t stop staring at the weird people and clothes and yippy purse dogs.
The scene itself—choreographed with pinpoint precision for the long, continuous shot that is one ofTroy’s directorial trademarks—is fairly funny as is, but Blake’s expressions and comic timing elevate it. Even though I’ve seen it run several times through the monitor set up where I’m hanging out behindTroy, I still laugh at all the right spots. So does Sarah Paltrow, who isn’t as humorless as I assumed from that first day, and the handful of PAs who are also watching. EvenTroy chuckles when Farpoint passes the little boy wearing the Batman costume, and they both give each other wary looks.
“Aaaand cut,”Troy calls out. “That’s gold, everyone. Good job.”
The extras mill about, and the little kid in the Batman costume runs over to Blake and starts engaging him in an animated conversation, judging by the big hand motions the kid is making. His mom jogs over to him from across the street, concern on her face—the extras and bit players are under instruction not to mob Blake (or me or Bertram) between scenes—but Blake crouches down by the kid and is happily chatting with him, even though I’m sure he’s dying to get out of the sun (not to mention that leather costume).
I can’t stop smiling.
“Glad to seesomeone’senjoying themselves in this heat,” Bertram says, approaching me while dramatically patting the sweat from his face with a handkerchief.
“Well, I have been in the shade for the last two hours.” I take a nice long sip from my iced latte. “And I’m not suffocating under a layer of white body powder. You should trythat.”
“Very funny, Kimberly. Remind me to show the same sympathy when you’re back in your fishnets and stripper heels.” He slumps into the chair Sarah just evacuated next to me, then follows my gaze to where Blake is letting the kid try on his golden pinpoint visor. “I’m always skeptical about getting back together with exes, you know.”
“I do know,” I say. He’s told me a variation of this a half-dozen times over the last couple days, usually followed by some story involving yet another failed—but racy—reconciliation with Marcus. I twist the straw in the plastic cup, and it makes a low squeaky sound.
Bertram looks over at me. “I must say, though, these last few days you’ve been much more like the Kim Watterson I remember from our firstHemlockmovie.” He pauses. “Unguardedly happy.”
I smile over at him. I found out I was pregnant with Luke during the filming ofHemlock.The OCD was at a low ebb, and Blake and I were in a really good place again. I was so happy. Unguardedly so, even.
It breaks my heart to think of how little happiness I’ve had in the last six years that could be described that way. I’ve always been a guarded person, a careful one—Blake is the only man who’s ever made me feel like I could let my guard down. Before a couple days ago, I would have said that only made it all hurt more, but I’m no longer so sure.
Maybe it would have hurt just as much, anyway. And those walls I put back up toward the end of the marriage were the very things that cost me everything.
What scares me is that I’m not sure I know how to keep them from coming back.
“So you approve, then,” I say.
Bertram gives me a wry smile. “Like you’ve ever needed my approval, Kimberly.” He shrugs. “I am happy if you’re happy. And that face of his would certainly be a nice thing to wake up to in the morning.”
“Hisface, huh?” I tease. “That’s the part you’d like to wake up to?”
Bertram snickers. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to—”
“Bertram!” booms out a voice, like he’s trying to be heard from the cheap seats, even though he’s only steps behind us. We both jump, and Bertram audibly groans.
I don’t need to turn around to see that it’s Peter Dryden, Farpoint’s on-screen nemesis and quickly becoming Bertram’s off-screen one.
“There you are, you son of a gun,” Peter says, clapping Bertram on the shoulder. Bertram glares down at Peter’s hand. “I’m beginning to feel like you’re avoiding me,” Peter continues, with a chuckle that implies he couldn’t imagine anything of the sort.Then, before Bertram can reply, Peter grips my shoulder as well. His hands are clammy on my skin, and I have to stifle a grimace. “And hello to you, Kim. You are looking positively radiant today, as always.” He gives me a long look. “It’s a shame my hit show,Cuffs, was a little before your day. You would have made an incredible Sergeant Delana.”
From the way he says that—and the way his gaze dips briefly down to my breasts—I can only assume Sergeant Delana was his romantic lead. Probably off-screen, as well. Peter Dryden, while pretentious and skeezy, was probably fairly attractive in those days, though he’s been botoxed all to hell since.
“I was probably filming diaper commercials back then.” I’m not actually sure about this, since I have no idea whenCuffswas on, but I figure a reminder of our large age gap isn’t a bad idea.
Peter frowns, but unfortunately doesn’t take his hand off my shoulder. Or Bertram’s.
