Chapter 16 - Scott
I text Chelsea to let her know I’m on the way. She texts me back a thumbs up and a fingers crossed. I head out the door and look over the railing. She’s locking up.
“Good morning,” she calls.
“Good—”
I can’t finish because a huge yawn overcomes me. She laughs as I head down the stairs.
“I guess this is positively late for you,” I say. She nods. “How did it go?”
We start down the street together.
“Go?”
“At the coffee shop.”
“Oh. That.” Something in her voice makes me stop and grab her arm. She turns towards me.
“What?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
I can tell something is bothering her and I don’t like it. Whatever it is, I want to fix it right away. Bring the smile back to her face and the light back to her eyes.
She sighs, shakes my arm off and continues walking down the street. I catch up with her in two steps.
“We can’t go into filming with you all…”
“What? What am I all?”
The tension in her voice makes me cringe.
“I don’t know but something isn’t right. So, tell me what it is. We have a job to do.”
“I know that.”
Is this about a guy? Was she dating someone? Did they break up? That would be good. But not today. It’s our first day filming, demolition day. We spent yesterday mapping out what we would personally demo for the camera before the team comes in.
The director, Vivien, wants cute shots of us being happy to start the project. And Chelsea does not look happy.
“Just tell me what’s going on. You’ll feel better.”
She looks at me for a second and keeps marching down the street.
“Chels?”
“If you must know it’s about our engagement.”
“What about it?”
“Everyone at the shop was really happy for me.”
“And that’s bad?”
She stops again.
“I don’t feel good about it. It just feels wrong. It’s just so…dishonest.”
I start walking again, hoping she’ll follow me. I’m quite relieved when she does. I wait until we are waiting on the subway platform to talk again.
“I get it,” I blurt out.
“You do?”
Yes, no, sort of. I’m not worried about pretending to be engaged. But even I didn’t realize just how fake the show was going to be. I tried to explain to the producers and director that I don’t usually trash anything that is salvageable in the house. We carefully remove anything that is usable and take it to the storage unit. When there is enough for a truckload, and we have a break in the schedule, I pay my guys to take it to Restore, wherever they can use it.
We’ve gone as far as Wallingford, Connecticut. That’s pretty far, but on the plus side, we discovered a great barbeque joint up there, called the PigRig. Now I call that Restore first just to see if I can justify the trip.
I explain all of this to Chelsea. In what I’ve come to think of as ‘Typical Chels’ she thinks about it before responding.
“It just doesn’t seem like the same thing to me,” she says. “I mean, you did talk them into just doing a couple of destruction shots and saving everything else.”
“Well, what would make you feel better about the whole.” I lower my voice. “Fake engagement thing?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was going to end up like this.”
“I didn’t either,” she says miserably. “I feel so guilty.”
“Don’t. I don’t want you to feel bad.”
Ever,I add in my head.
She stops and I watch her take a deep breath.
“We’re going to do this. It’s going to be good, no, great, for our careers. Someday, we’ll laugh about it, right?”
She seems a little happier. I agree. I think I’d agree with anything to cheer her up, even calling the whole thing off. I’m not even sure that would be possible, at this point. I am sure the network’s wrath if we bailed now would be biblical.
When we walk into the house the film crew is already setting up. Satisfaction flows through me as we weave our way through the maze of cables, lights, and other equipment. My body hums with excitement. Chelsea is looking around. She looks part curious and part nervous.
“This is it,” I say, wrapping my arm around her.
She grins. A real smile that lights up the room. We are whisked off to hair and makeup. She gets that uncomfortable look again, but I promise her she’ll get used to it. While my makeup is being applied I can’t see her. All I can do is hope her cold feet don’t come back. I overhear a short discussion about which fake eyelashes would look best on her.
When my makeup is done—Chelsea’s is far more elaborate—I go to the kitchen. Vivien, the director, is waiting for me. We talk in front of a wall I spraypainted a giant X on last week. Working on the preproduction was a new experience for me. When I did the movie I just showed up and they told me what to do.
Vivien didn’t like the wall I showed her. She wanted a different one, said it would be more dramatic. I saw her point, but unfortunately that wall was also load bearing.
“Is that a big deal?” she asked. “Could we, you know, just whack a few holes in it? Without bringing the whole building down?”
That was when I realized that the network didn’t give a rat’s ass about the integrity of the reno. And that I was going to have to walk a very fine line for the entire shoot. On one side would be pissing the network off and on the other would be compromising my usual—admittedly high—standards for workmanship.
“Well?” I look over. Chelsea is in the doorway. “What do you think? Be honest.”
“You look great.”
She does, but she doesn’t really look like herself. I’m not sure I would recognize her if I passed her on the street. The makeup will look natural under the harsh lights, but up close it seems caked on. And the very thick fake eyelashes seem to compete with her eyes, rather than enhance them. But the point is the overall effect, from farther away. Viewers aren’t going to get the closeup look of her that I will have. And they haven’t memorized her face like I did.
“I don’t even look like me.”
“Um…”
I agree and I prefer her with no makeup at all. I just have no idea how to say that and make it sound good. While I’m struggling to find the words, we are ordered into place, thank god.
Per the script—there’s no dialog, just instructions—I hand Chelsea the sledgehammer.
“You first.”
“I’ve been looking forward to this.”
She swings it as hard as she can, but it just taps the wall and bounces off.
“Here, I’ll show you.” I stand behind her and wrap my arms around her. “One, two, three.”
I brace my hips so the force comes from my whole body and not just my arms. Chelsea twists and sort of grinds against me, just a little bit. I try to ignore it, I have to. But having her in my arms, so close, her hair brushing against my cheek as I bend down closer to her, is maddening. Extremely nice but even more frustrating.
“Try to hold your lower body still. Then, at the last second, put your hips into it.”
“Okay.”
She smiles and I’m close enough to see the flecks of gold in her eyes. I want to count them, stare into her eyes the rest of the day. But I step back, out of the camera shot, and let her have at it. This time she breaks through the wall.
“And cut. That was great.”
“Thanks.”
Vivien waves at Chelsea in what is unmistakably a ‘Be Quiet’ motion. I have to suppress a snort of annoyance. I know the director is always focused on the big picture, and even a small production like this has a ton of moving parts that have to be coordinated. But something inside me is rising up, protective and fierce. I clear my throat to keep from saying anything.
Chelsea is looking at me. I smile in what I hope is a reassuring manner. She steps next to me.
“What are we doing?” she whispers.
“Waiting.”
“For?”
“The director. They’ll be a lot of that.” I give her a little nudge. “Go back to your spot.”
“Oh, sorry. Thanks.”
She hurries back to her position.
We do several more takes. Then we are motioned off.
“Should I send the crew in now?”
“Not yet, we may need some additional shots after lunch.”
Not the answer I wanted to hear. I’m going to have to reevaluate the schedule. My guys have been standing around all morning. They could have all been working on other jobs. No one minds pitching in for demo, but paying them to do nothing is going to affect my bottom line very quickly.
We move into the kitchen. On the way I stick my head out the door. The crew is hanging out on the stoop. George gets up but I shake my head. He sits back down. I offered him the chance to be on the show, but he thinks the whole thing is ridiculous.
In the kitchen I give the little speech Chelsea helped me write about salvaging and donating the cabinets.
“Do it again,” Vivien says. “And you.” She points to Chelsea. “We need a shot of you looking at him like you think this is really noble or something.”
“Well, I don’t know about noble, but it is nice.”
“Pretend it’s noble. I need that adoring look. Action.”
I run the lines again. Out of the corner of my eye I see Chelsea making a face. I wouldn’t call it adoring, more like—
“Cut. No not that.”
“Sorry.”
Chels looks positively stricken.
“We got this.”
I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince; Chelsea, myself or Vivien. Maybe all three. The director isn’t mollified in the least. She looks really pissed off, although I’m starting to believe she always looks like that.
“Stand here.” I grab Chelsea gently by the arm and guide her into position. “Now think about puppies. Like a whole litter of golden retriever puppies.”
Her face changes immediately. Out of the corner of my eye I see Vivien nodding. Not smiling and nodding, but good enough.
We do several more takes and then someone yells lunch is ready.
“Can my crew start removing the cabinets?” I ask Vivien, but she shakes her head.
“I’ll review the footage over lunch. Then I’ll let you know.”
The TV crew quickly files outside where Vivien gets in line first. I motion for Chelsea to hang back until we are sure of the hierarchy.
“Demo time?”
George mimes swinging a hammer. I shake my head.
“Maybe after lunch.”
He looks at the crew, lounging in the sun. I’m literally paying my guys to get a tan. George pats me on the shoulder. For a second, I think he’s consoling me but then he clears his throat.
“Um, according to the schedule, we have to get the demo done today.”
“Yep.”
“But we’ve already lost several hours.”
“I know.”
“You want them to stay late?”
Want? No. But I don’t have a choice. I budgeted for overtime, but this much overtime, on day one? It’s going to hurt.
“It has to be done tonight. Stay as long as it takes.”
“You’re the boss.”
Indeed.