Chapter Twenty-Four
The sun had barely risen, and already Cecily, Ellis, and Reggie were pounding on the door, demanding to be let in.
“The kids were so excited to go swimming that they woke me up extra early,” Cecily said, looking as exhausted as I felt. Her arms were full of everything they needed to spend the day here, plus a bag of clothes for me.
Chris and I had stayed up late last night talking about logistics, debating whether or not Kali would make a good Laura and agreeing that Janelle would make a great DP. I ended up crashing in his guest bedroom, too tired to make the drive home, and asked Cecily to bring me a few days’ worth of outfits when I invited her and the kids over. Before he left in the morning, Chris showed me the lay of the land and suggested I start keeping a change of clothes, both casual and professional, here in case we had future late-night work sessions. I was too stunned by the suggestion to do anything but nod.
“This place is awesome!” Ellis ran from room to room, Reggie following after them.
“I can’t believe we’re in Chris Stanson’s home.” Cecily gawked as I led her to the coffee bar. “This place is surreal.”
Surreal but nice , I thought, remembering the LACMA party and my first awkward interactions with Drew in this place. Now, I was spending the night in Chris’s guest bedroom and hosting family and friends at his house. Surreal indeed.
“Would you like some tea?” I pointed to Chris’s new Breville specialty tea maker. “This thing is so fancy. You tell it what kind of tea you’re making and the kettle automatically steeps it at the exact right temperature for the exact right time.”
“That is hella bougie,” Cecily agreed, eyeing the appliance. “I need one.”
I’d been touched last night when Chris showed off the kettle and the large selection of high-end teas he’d gotten just for me, making a point to highlight that the tea was from an Asian-American queer-owned tea company out of San Diego named PARU. Apparently he’d told Bradley to stock up on options for me after finding out I didn’t drink coffee. It was a simple gesture, mostly carried out by Bradley, but combined with everything Chris had done and said these past twenty-four hours, I was beginning to feel an immense fondness for him, so much so that I hugged him tightly before he left. He told me to stop being so emotional and let him go, but I could see the smile on his lips.
“Black tea okay?” I asked my sister.
“Yes, please, caffeine.” Cecily sidled up to the coffee bar while the kids cannonballed into the pool outside. Chris’s big windows and open-floor plan made it easy to watch them from anywhere in the house. “So where are you hiding Andy?”
“What?” I asked, filling the kettle with purified water.
“Come on, late-night production meeting is totally code for ‘I’m getting laid,’” Cecily coaxed. “And I know it wasn’t Chris you were sleeping with.”
“How do you know I’m not sleeping with Chris?”
Cecily laughed in reply.
“It could happen,” I insisted.
“There is no world in which you and Chris Stanson could happen,” Cecily assured.
“Look around you,” I said. “Chris Stanson and I are happening.”
“Oh my god.” Cecily leaned in and whispered, “Are you really screwing Chris Stanson?”
“Of course not! He’s so not my type”—I laughed at the idea—“but the guy is growing on me.”
“I can see why.” Cecily motioned around the house.
“Have I finally made it up to you for missing the kids’ recital?” I asked.
“You’re getting there,” Cecily allowed. “Introduce me to Chris Stanson and we’ll forget it ever happened.”
“One day.” I handed her a mug. “Here, try this.”
Cecily took a sip and smiled. “Chris Stanson has very good taste in tea. I like him even more.”
“Chris hates tea,” I said, leading us both outside. “He bought this especially for me.”
“You sure you’re not sleeping together?” Cecily asked, sitting down by the pool.
“He wishes he could get this.” I slapped my ass before lying back dramatically on a lounge chair.
“That’s a lot of stuff you had me bring,” Cecily pointed out. “Are you planning on moving in?”
“Chris suggested I keep some clothes here, and I agree. It could be good for me to be closer to the headquarters of our film.”
“I’m sure none of your decision has to do with the fact that your headquarters are located in a movie star’s mansion in Beverly Hills.”
“It sure doesn’t hurt.” I smiled, staring out at the view.
“How long do you think you’ll be here?” Cecily asked.
“I have no idea.” I got up to push a button on the wall that opened an automatic shade for us. “Chris comes back Monday, and I’m going to stay until then.”
“Wait, if Chris comes back Monday, we’re spending the night, too!” Cecily sat up. “Gotta take advantage of this place.”
“Sorry, he said only day guests,” I lied. I loved Cecily and the kids, but I needed space to think.
“I get it.” Cecily’s tone told me she absolutely did not get it. “Us simple folk aren’t fancy enough to stay here with you.”
“I’m a guest in this place, just like you,” I reminded her. “I’ll be kicked out soon, don’t you worry.”
“Well, thanks for inviting us over while you could.” Cecily smiled.
We lay there in silence, side by side on lounge chairs, enjoying the view, watching the kids splash around playing mermaid, just like we used to do as kids. Cecily would be Ariel, the princess, and I would be Ursula, the sea witch trying to steal her voice. Ursula was my favorite, the only Disney character I related to as a kid. Sure, she was technically a villain, but she was also a fat, queer woman of color who had her throne stolen by a muscular old white man. The little feminist in me loved Ursula and wanted her to win in the end, which she did when I played her.
Sometimes Henry would be King Triton, and I would steal my throne back from him, and sometimes he would be Flounder, trying to save Cecily from me. Once he’d been Scuttle, but when he jumped in to swim with us, Cecily chided him, saying seagulls can’t swim, so he quit and became a shark, chasing us around the sunken ship instead.
We’d spent hours in the pool, our skin turning into prunes. My mother would threaten or bribe us to get out for dinner, but we’d always jump back in, continuing our games. Cecily and Henry tried out for the swim team in high school, but by then I wanted nothing to do with pools and the revealing swimsuits associated with them. I was in my twenties before I felt comfortable in a bikini again, and even then I was on edge, waiting for someone to laugh and call me Shamu.
The day Henry died, I jumped fully clothed into my parents’ pool, sinking to the bottom, never wanting to emerge again. Since then, pools had been therapy for me, the weightlessness of water relieving the burden of grief.
“You want to get in?” I asked Cecily.
“Not yet. I’m enjoying being lazy.”
“There’s a window down here!” Reggie said, popping up out of the water. “I can see into the house!”
“It’s so you can watch people swim from inside if you want,” I told her, hearing myself as I said it. “This place is a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“It’s no Arcadia.” Cecily sighed, putting her hands behind her head. “But it’ll do.”
I was about to climb into the pool when a chime in the bushes signaled someone was at the front gate. I walked inside and let Janelle in.
“Hey,” I said, opening the big black slab of wood.
“Hey.” She smiled awkwardly as she walked in.
“Thanks for coming.”
“I couldn’t pass up snooping around Chris’s house,” Janelle replied, taking in her surroundings.
“It is quite impressive,” I agreed, still feeling the tension between us. “Cecily and the kids are outside by the pool. Can we talk a bit?”
“Sure.” Janelle followed me into Chris’s living room, both of us sitting down on his white sofa.
I took a deep breath and started the apology I’d practiced many times in my head this morning. “I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you more vigorously earlier on. I tried, I really did, but I didn’t try hard enough. I got wrapped up in my own shit and was afraid I’d lose this job if I rocked the boat too much. But you’re important to me, and this dream isn’t complete without you in it.”
“Thank you for saying that,” Janelle replied.
“I’m also sorry about showing up at your place unannounced. I’ve been your best friend for over a decade. I should have known you’d have a girl hanging around on a weekend night. I’m sorry if I ruined your orgasm.”
Janelle chuckled at that. “Crystal did take some convincing that you weren’t a hookup. But don’t worry. She came around.”
“I’m sure she did.” I wiggled my eyebrows.
“A warning would have been nice, though,” Janelle admitted, “but you know I’m not mad at you for coming to my house, right?”
“I know,” I conceded.
“I’m not even mad at you about being off the film,” she continued. “Hell yes, I’m mad at the situation. It sucks, but studios pull this shit all the time. That part isn’t your fault. What is your fault, what I am pissed off about, is that you lied to me for so long. Making me think we were still in this together. Equals. It’s the fakeness that bothers me.”
“I thought I could convince Focus to change their minds,” I explained.
“You can’t change Hollywood, Diana. I’ve been telling you that for years.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t keep trying.”
“I’m not going to stop trying,” Janelle said. “I just need to be realistic in my expectations.”
“This is why we need our own production company,” I said.
“Hold up, let me go get a lottery ticket,” Janelle teased.
“Actually, I was thinking more like using this house.” I looked around me.
“What, you’re going to steal Chris’s shit now and sell it?” Janelle asked. “Because if so, I want that Warhol.”
“Good idea, but no.” I leaned forward. “It just so happens that Chris Stanson is a decent human being. Or at least he’s trying to be one.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Janelle rolled her eyes.
“I didn’t believe it, either, but I saw it with my own eyes yesterday. We went to Focus with a list of people we wanted on this film. You were on it. Focus said no to all of them. So Chris told them to fuck off.”
“I bet they did not like that.” Janelle scoffed.
“No, they did not like that at all.” I wish I had been there to see the look on Silvia’s face. “Chris has a buy-back clause in his contract. When he told Focus to go fuck themselves, he cut ties with them, initiating that clause and buying back the film rights. He had to get a second mortgage on this house to do it, but he did. And now it’s ours. Which means—”
“Which means you get to pick your team,” Janelle interrupted, realization dawning on her.
“I get to pick my team,” I confirmed.
“So let me get this straight,” Janelle continued tentatively. “We get to make this movie together after all?”
“We get to make this movie together after all,” I affirmed, a giant smile on my face.
“Damn, Diana, way to bury the lede.” Janelle fell back onto the sofa. “Being your friend is a roller-coaster.”
“In a good way?” I asked, wondering where our friendship stood.
“Depends on the day.” Janelle smiled. “But yeah, in general, I love being your friend.”
“And I love being yours.” I nudged her with my shoulder.
“Any other surprises hanging out up your sleeve?” Janelle asked, pointing to a wet bar in the corner. “Because I’m gonna be drunk off of Chris’s most expensive booze later, so get ’em all out now.”
“I…” I hesitated. Now would be a good time to tell her about Drew. “No.”
Janelle sat back up. “What? What was that? So help me god, if you tell me I’m second DP or something, I’m going to lose it.”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” I assured her. “It’s just… Okay, don’t freak out, but I kind of kissed someone the other night. Before coming to your house.”
“My girl finally got some!” Janelle cheered, doing a little dance. “Tell me all about her.”
“Him,” I corrected, looking at Janelle’s face to judge her reaction.
“A trans guy?” Janelle cocked her head. “I can get behind that.”
“Not trans,” I said.
“Genderqueer?” she asked.
“ Cis . Het .” I emphasized both words.
“Damn.” Janelle dropped back onto the sofa. “Now that’s some big news. How did that even happen?”
“It was cold outside. We cuddled under a blanket. One thing led to another… I stopped it early, but it still happened.”
“When were you even out with a dude?” Janelle asked. “You only hang out with queer people and Cecily. You don’t even know cishet men, except… Holy shit, was it Chris Stanson?”
“Absolutely not,” I replied emphatically.
“Thank god,” Janelle sighed. “I could not handle you going out with some famous bro type.”
My face cringed involuntarily, the impact of Janelle’s words rolling through me, the fear of losing my queer community if this got out turning my stomach to knots.
“Oh god, Diana.” Realization dawned on Janelle’s face. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“It just happened,” I admitted.
“This could go very badly,” Janelle said. “For you, for me, for him, for this whole film.”
“I know!” I protested. “That’s why I stopped it.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Janelle said. “The way he looks at you.”
“Wait, how does he look at me?” I asked.
“I just didn’t think you’d go for that nice-guy act,” Janelle continued without answering me.
“It’s not an act,” I responded.
“You actually like him?” Janelle was looking at me like I said I’d been abducted by aliens.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I fell back onto the sofa with an exasperated sigh. “Drew’s great, but I could never date him. If people found out about us, then that’s it. I’m forever changed in everyone’s eyes, and so is this film.”
“You know who you sound like?” Janelle asked.
“Who?”
“You, freshman year of college, when you were trying to figure out how to tell your parents that Kate was your girlfriend.”
I laughed. “I haven’t felt this closeted since college. You’d think it would be easier, saying you’re falling for a guy. That’s what women are ‘supposed’ to do, right? Fall for men like Drew Williams. But I can’t stop thinking about what my friends and family would say if they knew.”
“If you like the guy and he’s good to you, who fucking cares?” Janelle asserted.
“I care,” I said, emotion rising in me. “I wish I didn’t, but I do. I see how we treat bisexuals in society, and it’s not good. I’ve been guilty of it myself. Punishing women who end up with men because of the privilege they gain. Their queerness seemingly erased because of their relationship.”
“That’s some biphobic bullshit,” Janelle spat.
“It is bullshit, but that doesn’t mean it’s not real,” I cried. “I don’t want to give up my place in the queer community. I don’t want to be ostracized by my friends. I don’t want to be some fodder for newspapers about the has-been dyke fatty dating the famous bro dude. I just… I can’t. I want to not care, but I do.”
“Screw them!” my best friend yelled. “If you want to date Drew, you should do it. I’m not going to judge.”
“You already did,” I reminded her.
Janelle and I sat in silence a bit, letting my words sink in.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I thought it was just a silly crush.”
“I wish it were that simple.” I sighed. “Then I could just fuck him and get it out of my system.”
“Just like you tried with Kate in college.” Janelle laughed.
I laughed with her. “And we all know how well that worked out.”
“So what are you going to do about Drew?”
“I’m going to push down my feelings until either this movie is done or I explode, whichever comes first.”
“Sounds like a horrible plan”—Janelle reached out her hand and clasped mine—“but I’ll be here by your side as it inevitably fails.”
“Thank you.” I squeezed. “You know, I never would have done the film without you, right? I would have found a way to have you as my DP. I will never stop bidding on your dreams, too.”
Janelle smiled, returning my grasp. “I will never stop bidding on my dreams, either.”
I laughed. “Good.”
“Now, if you’re done being all touchy-feely”—Janelle stood—“I’ve got a house to explore.”
“Let me know if you find anything salacious,” I said, standing after her.
“I’m keeping all blackmail material to myself.” Janelle walked toward the stairs. “Mama needs her own production company.”
“Hey…” I caught her before she walked away. “Don’t tell anyone about Drew, okay? No one else knows, not even Cecily.”
Janelle pantomimed locking her lips shut as the buzzer on the wall rang. When I looked to see who was here, Shamaya smiled back at me from inside a matte-pink Porsche Roadster. She zoomed up the driveway and parked right by the front door, unloading multiple bags of food from our favorite deli, Joan’s on Third.
“Oh my god, you’re the best,” I declared, enlisting Janelle to help us unload it all. There were omelets, quiches, bacon, hash browns, and, of course, orange juice and champagne.
“Did you buy the whole menu?” Janelle joked.
“Two of everything, actually,” Shamaya said, closing her car door.
“This is why I love you.” I hugged her, then carried the food out to the pool area.
“Shamaya brought Joan’s!” I shouted, laying the containers out on the table under the shade.
“You’re my new best friend,” Cecily said, grabbing a bit of crisped prosciutto.
The food was fabulous, and even picky-eater Reggie found something she liked, hogging all of the hash browns and refusing to share.
“That was so amazing I kind of want to cry now that it’s gone.” Cecily stared down at the empty containers.
“No need for tears. I’m having Tres deliver us lunch in a few hours,” Shamaya boasted.
“Will you marry me?” Cecily asked.
“Absolutely,” Shamaya replied, “just as soon as Chris Stanson and I divorce.”
“Careful there,” I warned. “Cecily will fight you for him.”
“And I took one Tae Bo class in the nineties, so watch out.” Cecily put up her fists.
“What’s it like, working with him?” Shamaya asked.
“Most of the time he’s an entitled, egotistical prick, and I have to sit on my hands to not punch him in the face,” I said. “But sometimes, he completely surprises me and his heart shines through. Like last night, when we found out Focus pulled its funding—”
“Focus pulled out?” Cecily interrupted. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us this sooner.”
“I didn’t want to ruin our fun,” I said, explaining the situation to them.
“What’s your plan now?” Shamaya asked when I was done. “How can we help?”
“You can’t,” I said, feeling defeated. “Unless you happen to have five million dollars and a distribution company that can get our film in theaters.”
“Sorry, all out.” Janelle pretended to empty her pockets.
“Darn,” Cecily joined, snapping her fingers. “Used up my last million a week ago.”
“Actually,” Shamaya said, leaning forward and smiling mischievously.