“I don’t keep track. Depends on the day and how shitty I feel. Some days, I don’t smoke at all. Other days, I might party till I can’t keep my eyes open. Who are you to judge? You party every fucking day.”
“But I never get stoned when I work. You shouldn’t either. Ever heard of studio drug tests? They’re a pain in the ass to cheat, and if you tested positive, you could lose your job.”
“Why the hell are you telling me a cautionary tale? It’s not like I depend on it or something.”
“Yet.” A wave of nausea hit him. “You don’t depend on it yet.”
“Are you for real right now? Oh my God. This is fucked up. I really didn’t need this right now.” She rose, her eyes wide. “The whole country is gonna call me a fucking bitch, a gold digger! My family and friends, who, by the way, love Kyle more than they love me, will hate me for what I did to him. Not to mention how shittyIfeel about what I did to him. And you’re doing this? Excuse me if I’m trying to loosen up a bit!”
“Vita mia—”
“Don’t Vita mia me!” she yelled. “You’re gonna wake up a happy man, parading your triumph, while your friends commend and congratulate you for getting the young ass.”
He stood. “Che cazzo? You think you’re some conquest to me? Some trophy?”
“You know what I mean. You have nothing to lose here. I do. Andrea is gonna givemeshit. My crew will fake smiles to my face while callingmea heartless bitch behind my back. And I won’t be able to say a thing to either of them. I’m the one whose heart will be torn with guilt every time I see Kyle’s name on my phone. I’m sure as hell I didn’t need a lecture about drugs from Mike Gennaro.”
He chewed on his lip, not knowing whether to yell back or hug her now. Despite how agitated her words made him feel, it was all true. He was too selfish, too happy, to see the situation from her perspective. Regardless of how many times he or she would deny it, people would believe what they wanted to believe. As a man, he’d be commended for tapping The Kid. As a woman, she’d be called names.
His heart dented at the thought alone. He stepped forward and kissed her hard. She resisted at first, but her tongue softened in the end, accepting. Then both of her hands were on his chest as she pulled away. “You can’t win an argument like that. It’s not fair.”
“I wasn’t trying to win.” His fingers tangled in her hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I overreacted, I know, but now that you’re my girlfriend, I feel even more protective of you. I was worried, that’s all. I’ll die if something ever happens to you.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Nothing will happen to me, Superstar. But I need your support, not your judgment.”
“Always.”
The doorbell chimed, and she flinched in his arms.
“That must be James,” he said.
“Let the war begin,” she mumbled.
Scene41
Maggie
“It’s a wrap for today,” Erisha, the AD, yelled out and instantly turned to me, handing me a piece of paper. “Your call sheet.”
I nodded, stretching my arms and rose from my chair. A wave of vertigo slammed into me, and I fell back.
“Maggie?” Erisha crouched next to me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” My head spun as I remembered I hadn’t eaten a thing all day. “I’ll go screen dailies. Can you please get me a sandwich or something and meet me in the screening room?”
“Sure. Anything?”
“Anything but chicken will be fine.” I trudged past wires and equipment and into the screening room.
It was almost empty of people, except for the DP. He was around fifty years old and his eyes reminded me of Dad. I sat, my sneakers propped against the edge of the board, rubbing my eyes as I watched the clips playing.
“What happened to you?” he asked, hunched over an array of buttons and sliders underneath the three television screens, his words slow as he always talked. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit.”
You don’t say?Between an exhausting and unsatisfactory conversation with the managers last night—they couldn’t come up with a good cover up story yet—and knowing that Mike wasn’t going to be with me for an entire week, I couldn’t sleep or eat at all. And sneaking out of his house and not being able to see him off to the airport hurt more than I expected. “Just a little dizzy. I forgot to eat.” My stomach growled, as if on cue.
“You need to take care of yourself, Kid.” He pressed a button, and the clip changed to a close-up of Chester Monroe. “If you’re not careful, this business will get the best of you.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” I ignored the Kid word and focused on the screens. Everybody called me that now. From Don Robello himself to the PAs. Perhaps it was better to embrace the stupid nickname until it faded with time.
