Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
I winked at her. I never wink. Who does that?
Jory half listened to Cali’s opening day speech, wondering what latent misogynist energy had bubbled that wink to the surface.
Maybe it was because he’d barely made it to set—hell, barely made it out of bed—confronted with the thought of another tedious day on a show that should be fueling his drive but only engulfed him in a bleakness he couldn’t find the energy to define.
Maybe it was the cumulative stress from ignoring his test for so long, existing in the purgatorial state between health and sickness that had become his base line.
Or maybe it was because Cali Daniels’s smile had pinpricked his monochromatic existence with a stream of color. From her aura or some shit. Which was stupid. He didn’t believe in auras. He barely believed in color anymore. And he refused to believe in the electricity shooting straight from her—what color were they? Hazel? Green?—hazel-green eyes that were level with his. A strange perspective since he looked down on most people, in more ways than one.
The wink was most likely an unconscious defense to keep her away, he reasoned. His “little” health scare last year had rearranged his social life to a more hermit-like existence. Even though he was probably in the clear, the possibility of living on borrowed time had him abandoning his casual search for a life partner and pointedly avoiding any entanglements. Which might explain the attraction to someone who was off limits. Jory never dated anyone he worked with, even before the #metoo movement blew up the predators who pressured, stalked, and abused—mainly women—on set. His personal mandate was nonnegotiable, not only because it was wrong to take advantage of his position, but any whiff of harassment could destroy his career. The beginnings of a flirtation with the director had to be shut down, no matter how much color she exuded.
The Demon was his calling card to gain creative control and segue into directing himself. He was sick of watching directors who didn’t know what they were doing destroy his vision. And he certainly wouldn’t risk that vision for a newbie director who wanted to “explore” the scene in order to be “ avant-garde .” It was better she knew her place off the top: beneath him.
Not in a sexy way, obviously.
Confidence restored, he planted himself next to Dan, the first assistant director and manager of the set. “Your daughter cut your hair again?”
Dan scowled. He worked hard to appear like an asshole in order to keep the production running on time, but really he was a big teddy bear. “Excuse me, but I’m trying to listen to our new director. And I think my hair looks great.”
“Your daughter has an eye for images, not hair.”
Dan blew out a defeated breath. “I know.” He glanced at Jory. “Thanks for writing her that recommendation. She’s over the moon about film school.”
“She’s talented. I didn’t do much.” Jory wasn’t into throwing his weight around, but if he could get more women into the camera department, that was good for everybody. “What’s our day?”
“Nothing too intense.” Dan returned his attention to Cali and kept his voice low. “This sex scene, a couple in the office, a short action sequence.”
“You going soft on her isn’t going to help her game.” Jory noted Cali’s easy smile and amiable air while addressing the crew.
Dan raised his eyebrows. “Those scenes are trickier than you think. She’s going to make you work.”
“I haven’t worked for a director in years. I’m not about to start now.”
Jory left Dan to his sigh and quietly positioned himself behind Cali’s left shoulder. It was a move he pulled to unnerve directors, to let them unconsciously know who’s turf they were on.
As she broke down the scene to the crew, Jory watched the natural wave of Cali’s auburn hair skim across her back. He wondered what it would look like cascading down in slow motion after being set free from a tie. His mind skittered to another curtain of hair released from its bounds, this time blond and on a bride standing barefoot on the beach, the sun setting behind her. The wind whipped her loose tendrils, tickling the groom, making them laugh as she tried to tame it in place. Jory remembered the hot sand under his feet and how safe he felt. Then what came after—the sadness, the loss.
Cali clapped her hands, breaking him from his reverie. “So! The scene has Anna working her demon magic on a sleeping Rafe. Rafe opens his eyes, and instead of screaming bloody murder, he takes her mouth in the long-awaited kiss. We’ll do a master shot first and then dolly alongside with the second camera. Where’s sound?”
“Brandon!” Jory boomed, as much to shock himself into the present as to rattle Cali.
Cali jumped and swung around to lock eyes with him. Any delight over his petty move quickly died when her intense energy crashed against him in a wave of tsunami proportions. He fought the urge to sway.
Cali put a hand to her chest in mock dismay. “Oof. You’re stealthy.”
The golden retriever who was Brandon bounded up with a boom microphone bouncing on his shoulder. Cali withdrew her gaze from Jory, and he felt an odd deprivation, like he’d been unplugged from a socket.
“Brandon, we’re going to need some love on this. Good sex is all about the sounds,” Cali explained.
Brandon guffawed with boyish eagerness.
“A boom wasn’t in the original lighting plan. The mic will create a shadow. Dan!” Jory called over his shoulder while keeping his eyes on Cali. “How long would we need to switch the lighting?”
“An hour.”
Jory shook his head. “Seems like a lot for a few sighs and moans that will be covered with music in the end.”
“I’m not sure if I want music or not,” Cali told Brandon. “Can you mic from under the bed?”
“Yeah, for sure!”
Cali turned a sharp smile on Jory. “Work for you?”
He wasn’t sure if he felt angry or impressed. He definitely felt annoyed, because whatever it was, he felt something. He begrudgingly nodded while catching a droll smirk from Dan, à la “Told you so.”
Cali moved on to Melanie. “Where’s the intimacy coach?”
Melanie cleared her throat. “Uh … We don’t have one.”
Jory frowned. “We don’t have an intimacy coach?”
Cali’s eyes flicked to his in surprise before returning to Melanie’s. “I thought all sex scenes were required to have an intimacy coach in order to protect the actors.”
“It was deemed this scene didn’t have the level of sexuality necessary to garner one.”
That meant the higher-ups didn’t want to spend the money. Jory suspected Melanie had fought hard against the decision, but voices above hers valued profits over decency. People who felt uncomfortable around sex scenes didn’t get a vote when budget was on the line. Just another frustrating aspect of the business Jory couldn’t control, and his apathy descended like a familiar blanket.
Cali gave Melanie a troubled nod, then sank down on her haunches beside the bed to get eye-to-eye with the actors. “Paolo, I’m going to be indelicate here.”
A cloud of confusion crossed his face. “Indelicate?”
“I’m going to talk sex,” Cali clarified.
“Oh, cool.” Paolo eagerly propped himself up on his elbows, forcing Thalia back on her haunches.
“You’re sure you’re good to talk about this?” Cali’s question had a solemn tone.
“Absolutely.” Paolo nodded.
“What’s your favorite sound when you’re with someone?”
Paolo scrunched his flawless brow in deep contemplation. “I like that dope sound of surprise when I sink in.” Paolo turned a conceited grin on Thalia. He opened his eyes wide and sucked in a high-pitched feminine sounding breath. “That gasp of shock. I hear it every time.”
“Ugh,” Thalia muttered.
“And the wet slapping. I like the sound of the wet slapping,” Paolo matter-of-factly added.
Jory seconded the ugh . He didn’t have a lot of time for Paolo. His looks had landed him this role, and Jory spent a lot of valuable time pulling out camera tricks to cover Paolo’s bad acting. He was a boy hiding his insecurity with crass jokes and bravado that no one was buying, least of all his costar.
Thalia sniggered. “Figures you’d only like the business part. All force and no finesse. Gross.”
Thalia on the other hand was a delight to shoot—focused and professional, even if she was a touch aloof.
“Can you plant a mic in the pillow?” Cali asked Brandon.
“Oh yeah, definitely!”
“Not too close to the headboard,” Thalia said sweetly. “It might pick up me ramming Paolo’s skull into the wood as I ride him.” Despite her treacly smile, it was clear Thalia would like nothing better than to smash Paolo’s pretty head into the dense oak.
Cali rose to whisper to Brandon, “No, we need that sound. Make sure you get that sound.”
“For sure.”
Jory’s irritation rose. This woman was changing the plan on the first setup, while corrupting his unsuspecting crew members. If he didn’t do something soon, her influence could tumble the whole day out of control.
Melanie stepped between Cali and the two actors, all embarrassment forgotten. “No swearing, and keep the ‘Oh gods’ to a minimum please.”
Paolo lowered his eyes in deference. “Yes, ma’am.”
“This is a waste of time!” Jory threw up his hands. “It’s never going to make the cut.”
Cali turned to him with a feral smile. “Ah, the quiet man, I see. What do you like to hear?”
“I like to hear, ‘Camera’s up.’ ”
Cali put a finger to her lips in faux confusion and gestured to the front of his jeans. “Huh, I’ve never heard it called that. Whatever floats your boat.”
A guffaw shot out of Dan as Cali turned to give her full attention to Thalia and Paolo. Jory stood gaping for a moment too long and then fumbled out his light meter just so he had something to do.
“So, Thalia, you’re using your demon powers to influence Paolo’s dreams and give him the worst nightmare of his life. You need to impress your demon overlord, Abigor, so you can get that promotion. But your prey wakes up. Where are you?”
“I’m caught. But too surprised to move.”
“Are you angry?”
“No. I’ve been secretly wanting it.” The tension in Thalia’s shoulders dropped a fraction and she leaned into Paolo.
“Good.” Cali shifted to Paolo. “Where are you?”
“I’m scared. But there’s this super-hot chick above me so … yeah.”
“But isn’t this the woman who’s been tormenting you? Aren’t you tired of feeling helpless? Don’t you want some control?”
Jory stole a glance at Paolo, who stared blankly at Cali. Suddenly, Thalia was upended as Paolo rolled her beneath him, pinning her down as she squeaked.
“You okay with that move?” Cali asked Thalia. Thalia nodded, looking everywhere but at Paolo.
Cali’s voice deepened, seducing. “You lower down to kiss her because that’s better than throwing her out, right?”
Paolo’s body stilled over Thalia’s. “Right.”
“And Thalia, despite the fact you could incinerate him, you allow the kiss.”
Thalia’s eyes met Paolo’s, shining with challenge. “Yeah.”
“Great.” Cali’s tone turned businesslike. “Paolo can I see you grind your hips into her?”
Paolo ground his hips. Thalia yelped and Paolo flinched back.
“Not so much,” Cali said lightly.
He moved forward and softened his grind. Cali turned to Thalia, “Better?”
Thalia assessed their bodies, adjusted her hips and then nodded, satisfied.
“Nice. And Thalia can you raise your leg that’s nearest to camera to hug his flank?”
Thalia checked the angle of the camera, shifted her outside leg, and wrapped it around Paolo’s butt so it was perfectly in frame.
“Thank you. Then, Thalia, you come to your senses, disappear, and we’re out. Good?”
Thalia nodded.
“Good, Paolo?”
Paolo nodded.
Cali turned her gaze on Jory, all the warmth she’d shown to the actors withdrawn, barricaded behind a cool shield of professionalism. “Good, Jory?”
No. I’d like that warmth back.
Jory almost stuttered at the thought, wondering where it had come from. He quickly squashed it and gave her his cold assent.
“Okay, let’s shoot.”
Paolo sprang off Thalia, who scrambled from the bed.
“Places, people!” Dan roared out.
Jory followed Cali to Video Village, the area where crew members could watch what they were shooting on the monitors. Directors’ chairs were set up in front of them, where the director, the DP, and the producer traditionally sat in the front row. He carefully made his way to the quiet space, gingerly stepping over cables that snaked across the concrete floor, and took his place beside Cali. He was suddenly struck by how soft the light was spilling over the set flats, the area’s only source of illumination, and irrationally hoped Melanie would join them in her producer’s chair. He’d never noticed how intimate a setting Video Village could be.
Molly, from Wardrobe, stood off to the side, scanning the actors’ costumes for flaws. Umber, in Continuity, had her binder open, intently marking the scene in her script so no line was missed, no pillow misplaced. Others buzzed in and out, doing their final checks before cameras rolled.
Jory kept himself still and apart, watching Cali in his periphery. She was intensely focused on Paolo and Thalia’s images on the small screen, furrowing her brow while clicking the pen in her hand. Click, click, click.
The rigidity in her body made his soften. In the hush before the scene started, he could understand that maybe he’d been too hard on her. It was her first day, and she was probably excited over her big break. The message had been delivered that this was his ship to run, so he could lighten up a little and still maintain the control necessary for the shoot to go well. Plus, flies, honey, et cetera.
Leaning in, Jory nodded at the monitor where Thalia and Paolo were getting their makeup touched up, and murmured. “They don’t like each other much.”
Cali quickly glanced around to make sure they had some privacy and, satisfied, returned her focus to the screen. She matched his volume. “I’m getting that. Why?”
“Paolo’s a poser and Thalia knows it. And he knows she knows it.”
Cali turned her direct gaze on him, and he forgot what he was getting at, drawn in by her eyes that were now shining green. He’d seen that color at his family beach house in early summer when the ocean began to warm. A color he’d been cocooned in as he swam, safe and quiet.
“It must be hard,” Cali said, “for someone who’s new to the craft to realize everyone’s judging them. That they have to come up to speed on something that’s taken others years to perfect. Paulo feeling like a fraud would be a natural response.” Her tone was strong even though her voice was barely above a whisper.
Jory straightened, annoyed at the tickle of guilt he felt over the possibility of having read Paolo wrong. “Maybe Paolo should listen to people with experience instead of thinking he knows everything.”
“He shouldn’t get too big for his britches?” Cali’s smile was cynical.
“There’s a reason for that saying.”
She raised a brow. “As every white man knows.”
Jory reared back. He wasn’t that guy. “That’s not what I—”
Cali cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Oh gosh, I didn’t mean you, of course,” she soothed. Even though Jory thought she very much meant him. She dropped her volume further, checking those around them again to make sure they were still in a cone of silence. “I was speaking to a greater idea of male privilege. I just think maybe Paolo needs a bit of a break. Weren’t you scared when you started out? ”
“God, no. I was too arrogant to be scared.” Jory almost blushed over his early days on set. An honors graduate at AFI, he had maybe spent a year doing student films and small indie projects before he got his first gig. He remembered walking on set that day and barely talking to anyone because he knew the director was a hack. People had thought Jory was mysterious and taciturn, but really he’d just been an ass. “What about you?”
“Oh, I’m just scared.” Her eyes held challenge in them, as though admitting she was afraid was a sign of strength.
Most directors would strangle themselves with the nearest cable before admitting to vulnerability, especially to the DP. But Cali was waving it like a badge of honor. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”
Cali shrugged. “Fear can work for you, give you an edge. Fear will make you hone in on a look or a nervous tic, or sense if something’s out of whack. It can help you understand that maybe the reason Paolo’s difficult is because no one’s taken the time to find out who he can be. It’s not uncommon for people to hide behind the projections others put on them.”
Jory peered through the door of the set, where Paolo was demanding a different lip gloss. “He wants people to think he’s an arrogant douche?”
“It might be easier than revealing who he really is.”
“There’s nothing to see, nothing to find.” He turned to her again, judgment final, but he suddenly had the idea Cali wasn’t talking about Paolo anymore. He could feel the gray edging its way back in, and suddenly he wasn’t sure he was talking about Paolo either.
Cali silently took him in, her expression softening into something suspiciously resembling sympathy.
Jory shuttered himself from her pointed gaze. “Or maybe they’re just in love with each other.”
Cali’s eyes shot to the screen. “Do you believe that? That animosity is a cover for love?”
“I’ve seen it happen.”
“It’s a dangerous argument that’s kept a lot of women in unhealthy relationships.” Cali’s tone flattened.
Jory couldn’t let the one-sided argument slide. “Unhealthy relationships affect men too.”
She turned back to him, parted her lips to speak, and then seemed to think better of it. Closing them, she murmured a tactful “hmm.”
Jory narrowed his eyes. “Did you just ‘hmm’ me?”
Cali narrowed her eyes to mirror his but couldn’t hide the spark of intrigue that lit them. “I did.” Her lips tipped at the corners.
Jory felt like he’d scored a point.
“Scene’s up!” Dan’s voice rose over the flats, settling the crew as they waited.
Jory looked over at his team and got the nod. “Camera speed,” he said.
Cali straightened to the monitor, her focus honing in like a peregrine on the hunt. She took a breath and stilled her pen. “Action.”
On the small screen, Thalia switched on immediately, seething and gyrating over Paolo in demonic fashion, who in turn twisted cartoonishly and grimaced, deep in his “nightmare.” Jory lost interest and checked his frame. It was balanced, had good depth, well lit, but … something was off. There it was—a light cut across Thalia’s shoulder too sharply. He made a mental note to fix it, when a movement caught his eye.
Cali was bouncing her knee. Bouncing her knee and hating on the monitor as if it had just cut her off on the freeway while giving her the finger.
Paolo opened his eyes as he “woke” and reached for Thalia as Cali shouted, “Cut!”, blasting out of her chair before the echo had a chance to trail off.
What had she seen? Jory rose to search out the offending light while zeroing his peripheral focus on Cali and the actors.
Pissy anger stowed, Cali crouched by the bed, one knee on the floor, hands together in a prayer pose as though in supplication. “Paolo, I like what you’re doing. It’s got a lot of energy, and it’s clear that you are dreaming and it’s bad.”
Jory could practically hear Paolo puff out his chest. “Great. So why stop?”
“Can you try—and this is just an exercise.” Cali sounded almost apologetic. “Can you pretend, with your eyes closed, that you have a concrete block on your chest and you’re desperate to get it off, but it won’t budge? Push with everything you have, but you can’t move.”
Jory stole a glance at Paolo, who blinked up at Cali in confusion. “I … guess.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Cali bounced up to pull Thalia off the bed and to the side. Jory spotted his quarry and gently, gently adjusted the diffuser to soften where the light landed on the bed, while keeping an ear on Cali and Thalia.
“You are a demon. You are Power.” Cali’s intonation was all steel, a mile away from how she spoke to Paolo. “You don’t have to prove you’re powerful. Yes?”
Jory peered over to catch understanding flow over Thalia’s features. “Yes.”
Cali gave her a curt nod, and both women strode back to their positions, Cali calling over her shoulder to the crew, “Let’s go again.”
“Going again!” Dan echoed.
Jory drifted back to his chair, the tension in his shoulders kindling a headache. Why the unnecessary stop? Sure it had given him the opportunity to fix his light, but what did Cali think she was going to accomplish by giving those directions? They didn’t even make sense. Ten minutes had just been wasted because Paolo and Thalia were going to do whatever they wanted.
In her chair, Cali’s leg was back to bouncing, her eyes boring into the monitor. “Action.”
The scene started again, but this time it took on a completely different tone. Thalia barely moved, while a dark energy vibrated through her, eyes burning as though she was sucking out Paolo’s very soul. Jory shuddered. It was somehow creepy and sexy. How was that even a thing? Jory had only seen occasional glimpses of Thalia’s real acting skill before today, but now she personified dangerous charisma.
Meanwhile, Paolo was … acting. He grimaced as he tried to move, the weight of the imaginary block testing him beyond his capability. Fury and futility crossed his features as Paolo lost himself to a heartbreaking struggle that made him appear so defenseless Jory felt compelled to rush in and wake him from his torment.
Jory dragged his attention away to stare at Cali, who was immobile, face alight, completely immersed in the scene—no bouncing leg, no clicking pen. She looked like a little kid watching her favorite show, heart bursting from wonder and magic.
She smiled, and Jory looked back to see Paolo open his eyes, the imaginary weight gone as if he were freed by the beautiful woman above him while Thalia froze in fear and shock. Jory involuntarily gasped at the contrast, unable to look away.
“Cut! Thank you. Moving on.” Cali’s clear voice dragged Jory out of the scene like he’d been in the depths of the ocean. She was already out of her chair, leaving him in her wake.
She turned back mid-stride. “Thanks for fixing that light,” she said.
And then, she winked.