Love, Camera, Action

Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

Jory was fighting to breathe.

At first he thought it was the thick, muggy soup that made up the Atlanta atmosphere at three o’clock on a July afternoon. Made worse, of course, by the black cloth tent erected for the on-location Video Village that trapped all that stagnant air inside. The hot air made hotter by Howard constantly undermining Cali’s authority with comments like, “I’m not sure that’s what the script intended” and “Do we really need that moment?” and “Make sure Thalia doesn’t look so butch.”

Then Jory thought he couldn’t breathe because he was worried over his test results. They wouldn’t come back for a couple of weeks, plenty of time to work himself up into an existential lather. But funnily enough, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The real reason Jory couldn’t breathe was that the gray had returned and had brought along newcomers, charcoal and black. Because when Cali closed the door of his condo, she took all the color with her, along with the oxygen.

His entire being expanded when he and Cali made love—a term he’d cringed over before realizing it was an actual thing—and he’d broke it off with her before his misery expanded to the point where he would drag her down with him.

He’d imagined he’d feel some kind of sanctimonious rightness, a martyr-like serenity. He couldn’t be so selfish as to bring someone into his world when he might be leaving it soon. His mother had been completely healthy when she got her diagnosis, glowing even. And within eighteen months she was gone. What kind of monster would put someone through that, knowing fully what it meant? What his father had gone through … And even if Jory wasn’t sick now, it would always be hanging over their heads like the Sword of Damocles, a future full of the threat of pain and disease.

Instead of feeling righteous, he only felt shame over acting like an asshole to the woman he loved. And he had been an asshole, just not the type of asshole she’d thought. Although she hadn’t looked at him like he was an asshole. She looked like he’d broken her heart.

And now she was freezing him out while they baked in the Atlanta heat, shooting this stupid action scene.

Jory could objectively recognize the postapocalyptic action sequence shot outside a dilapidated factory with rusted crossbeams and crumbling concrete walls awash in the blinding light of the Atlanta summer looked amazing. Paolo’s character Rafe had finally caught on that Thalia’s character Anna was stealing his soul piece by piece, and they were beating the crap out of each other as a result. It was like they were dueling on the sun.

Patsy had come to set to watch the sequence. Cali hadn’t lied about her sister being in rough shape. She huddled in the back row in one of the directors’ chairs, somehow not asphyxiating in a hoodie and loose jeans, and wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. She had the air of a starlet feigning anonymity rather than a washed-up academic.

Patsy spent most of her time glaring at Howard, then shooting Cali glances, which went ignored. Soon those glances found their way to him. She would shake her head and mouth, “ Who is this dick? ” and “ What a dick !” and “ Can I drop kick this dick? ” Jory solemnly nodded his ascent.

Meanwhile, Howard kept going, blissfully unaware of his delicate position as Patsy readied her drop kick behind him.

“I’m not sure why we’re spending so much time on these close-ups,” Howard drawled.

Jory watched Cali physically tamp down an irritated sigh, most likely to formulate an underserved response about the importance of character in an action scene.

Jory couldn’t take Howard’s passive insults anymore and shot out of his chair. “I’m going to set up that Steadicam shot Cali asked for,” he announced. Disregarding her look of surprise, he leveled a glowering stare at Howard. “I want to make sure we capture these incredible performances Cali’s been getting. Aren’t they incredible, Howard?” Before Howard could sputter, Jory strode away.

Cali hadn’t asked for a Steadicam shot, but now that Jory had said it, he realized it was what the scene needed. It would capture the grueling and chaotic essence of the fight. It would also get him out of that black-tented hell. Not that he could truly escape hell. He was in his own personal version of it that followed him wherever he went.

Cali had said they were temporary, said she didn’t do relationships. She was as stubborn in her ideas about love as she was about her ideas on set. She would be fine.

Yet his gaze kept drifting to her, wishing he’d played Friday night differently. Wishing they were still running off for trysts behind the sets. Still making beautiful images frame by frame in inspired harmony. Instead of feeling the distance between them slowly killing him, not the possible cancer.

While he waited for Alison to set up the camera, a ding resonated from his pocket. He swore at himself. He should have shut his phone off so it wouldn’t ruin a take, but he’d been making stupid mistakes all day. When he wrestled the phone out of his pocket to turn it off, he saw the text was from his father and that there was a photo attached. Hoping for any kind of a balm to soothe what was becoming the worst day of his life, he opened the message.

Hey, Jor. Was watching some old footage and had to send you this screenshot. Before you ask, Astrid showed me how to do it. She’s a wonder. It’s from one of your old videos. I’ve watched them over and over, and I don’t think I ever thanked you for taking them. We had such great times, the three of us together. I’m thankful for every second. Even the hard stuff. Love you.

Attached was a chaotic selfie of Jory, his father, and his mom.

Jory remembered the moment with crystal clarity. It hadn’t been taken during a grand gesture like the renewal ceremony or the trip to Iceland or at the stadium during the Lakers finals that somehow his dad got tickets for. It was in his mom’s hospice room, when she still had the strength to laugh. His dad had had enough of Jory hiding behind the lens, so he good-naturedly wrestled him for the camera. As they both fell on the bed, all three of them howled with laughter, and the camera caught the moment.

Now Jory really couldn’t breathe.

He thought his father had never watched his videos, that they were too painful. Instead, his father had relived the joy and the pain of their lives together, relishing every moment, never turning away from what was hard, because that would mean turning his back on what was good. And he’d had the courage to try again with someone new, someone different, someone he loved just as deeply. Despite the danger of losing love again.

Jory realized he was grateful he’d had that time too. He wouldn’t give up a moment he’d spent with his mother, no matter how awful it had been, because they had been together. And love was bigger than that.

Jory’s hands shook as he texted back a short message, doubtful he could do much else. Have you got any more?

Jory blurrily caught sight of Thalia quietly talking herself through the choreography while Paolo moved through it with his body, bouncing with pure joy. Jory’s own body felt stretched to the breaking point, and he pulled his shirt away from his neck, positive it was tightening around him. He focused on Alison nervously changing the lens, then fumbling it out of her hands and chasing it as it fell to the ground and rolled away.

“Alison! Be careful!” Jory barked. “That lens is worth more than your weekly rate.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She bent over to retrieve the wobbling lens but quickly straightened, stealing a glance at Video Village. She awkwardly changed the angle of her body and bent over with her butt aimed toward the building instead.

Jory winced. Alison didn’t deserve his mood. He had to stop letting his emotions get in the way of looking after his crew. He should instead be figuring out why she was on edge, as though she wanted to hide. Usually she was so measured in her movements, her presence calm and exacting, but today she was a mess. Jory peered over his shoulder in the direction of Alison’s skittered looks but only saw Cali emerging from Video Village, marching toward him on a mission. Each purposeful, annoyed, devastating stride another blow to his heart.

In self-defense, he turned his back on her to face Alison, who had pocketed the lens and floundered with the balance of the camera. He took the bottom of the post from her and gentled his tone. “Sorry, Alison. I shouldn’t have snapped. The heat is getting to me.”

She focused hard on the camera, hastily wiping away the sweat on her brow with the back of her hand. “The heat’s pretty intense.”

“I got it.” Jory steadied the rig. “Why don’t you go clean up that lens in the truck?”

Alison gave him a shaky nod and left as Cali took her place. He kept his attention on finishing the setup but could see in his periphery that the area under her eyes had a faint blue tinge that spoke of sleepless nights and heavy decisions. He fought the urge to abandon the camera and ease whatever worries lurked there.

“I didn’t ask for a Steadicam shot.” Irritation laced Cali’s voice.

Jory clicked the buckles into place on the vest that would stabilize the gear. “You shouldn’t let Howard talk to you like that.”

“So you swooped in to save me?”

He attached the arm to the bottom of his vest. If he looked at her while she was indignant, he’d just marvel over how passion brought out the green of her eyes or how the blazing sun glinted off her hair, or something else he’d keenly missed in the fifty-five hours they’d spent apart. “Someone needed to say something.”

“I appreciate that your version of saying something is to give me an unwarranted compliment while delivering Howard a veiled admonishment.” She widened her stance. “But maybe you should think about what it does to my position when someone intimates to the showrunner that the director needs saving, as though she has no ability to look after her crew, the shoot, or herself.”

She was right. She couldn’t afford to appear weak with Howard around, even for a moment, but he crumpled, knowing she didn’t want his help. He steadied the shake in his voice. “Where do you want me?”

Cali mumbled under her breath something that sounded suspiciously like “far, far away.” Then Dan pulled her aside to discuss the next shot.

Another ding from his phone brought him back, and Jory opened the link his father had sent without thinking.

Hundreds of tiny thumbnails filled the screen. Pictures of his mom, his dad, them all together. All the moments before his mom was diagnosed and all the moments leading up to her death. But as he scrolled through, the pictures continued. Shots of him and his dad on camping trips on their own, family reunions at the beach house, Jory laughing after his grandmother indignantly slapped his hand away from the turkey. He watched himself grow, his family grow, year after year, continuing on.

They’d all managed to have lives after the tragedy that had marked them so deeply. And although they hadn’t denied the sadness in their lives, hadn’t denied they felt his mother’s absence every day, they also weren’t afraid to feel joy again. To feel hope. As Jory thumbed through the pictures, he felt another absence there, someone he kept expecting to see, someone who should be there, but wasn’t.

Cali.

A tear landed on the screen, covering a picture of his sardonic face. He’d been hiding from his life just like that tear obscured him now. Hiding from the best thing that had happened to him in years—not to save Cali from pain, although that was definitely a part of it, but to save himself.

He didn’t want to be obscured anymore. He didn’t want to feel her absence in his pictures.

He wiped the tear from his phone and the others from his face. He had to tell her how he felt, even if he’d fucked it up too much already. Even if she didn’t want him anymore or had never wanted him in the first place. All his worries washed away as the future opened to him. A future where he wouldn’t be shackled by the unknown, where he could build a life in hope instead of against fear, where he could follow the spark of joy in his work he’d found again with Cali. And the spark of love that could transcend death.

“Blair!”

Howard lurched over from Video Village toward him. Jory cast a plea to the heavens. Could he not get some respite today? Or at least from this guy? Jory busied himself with the camera, already turning his thoughts on how to fix this tangle with Cali. Howard hoisted his pants up over his girth as he approached, patches of dark sweat pooling on his gray polo shirt. “Listen, this heat is killing me, but I wanted to talk to you before I left. I showed Jeff some footage of what you’ve been doing on this latest episode in spite of this lame duck director.”

Jory’s fuse burned bright and short. “I’m telling you, Howard—”

“I know, I know. You’re doing it together. Whatever. Jeff was blown away and thinks you just need one credit. So I’ll do the paperwork tomorrow, and we’ll be all set. Keep a lid on it and get through today.”

“Keep a lid on what? Paperwork for what?” Maybe he could convince Cali to start fresh, to acknowledge what was between them, to drop the rules.

Howard lowered his voice. “I’m giving an episode to you.”

“You are? That’s great.” He’d have to be honest with her about his fears about his health, about his test, which was terrifying in itself, but he had to start somewhere. And maybe he could find out what her fears were.

“So you’ll be taking over tomorrow. Just keep it on the QT.”

“Tomorrow?” Jory snapped his focus back to Howard just as he felt the camera fall. He scrambled to grab it and saved it just in time, hoisting it back on the stand.

“Yep. I just have to square it with Legal about why I’m getting rid of Cali, and you’ll be in. Shouldn’t take too long. Just keep it all going until then, and we’ll be golden.” Howard slapped Jory on the side of the arm and pulled his phone out of his pocket, lifting it to his ear. “Murray! Where the fuck have you been, you dickwad?” Howard laughed and lumbered away toward the camera trucks.

Jory stepped forward to follow, but the gear pulled him back. What just happened? He didn’t want this episode. He didn’t want to take Cali’s job from her. But now it was clear this was what Howard had been angling for the whole time. And Jory should have known. Off in the distance, thunder rumbled, announcing his impending doom.

He was sick to his stomach as he realized what he’d done. He’d kept his relationship with Howard quiet to protect Cali, but also to foster the connection so Howard would get him a director’s gig. When Cali found out, there would be no other way to interpret the situation except that he’d been gunning for her job from the start. Using her, manipulating her. She would rightfully leave him to face a future without the woman he loved. A future filled with the knowledge that she would always believe he had used her to better his career. That he proved her rule. That love was a lie.

Fuck that. Fuck that. He needed to do something, something drastic because there was no future without her.

Thunder rumbled again as an idea began to take form. An idea that was insane, that destroyed everything he had built for himself, but one that felt so right, he couldn’t ignore it.

He walked toward set with purpose, barely noticing the weight of the camera, a manic rightness fueling his conviction.

One of Cali’s superhero traits was projecting that she had it all together when she really did not. And today, she did not. Was not together. In any way. At all.

Working alongside Jory after that disastrous whatever—could you call it a breakup? A cool down? An end to …?—that was between them was a special kind of agony she hadn’t known existed. She’d finally let her guard down with someone, and the resulting affair had exemplified her long-held views that relationships were emotional traps for needy women. She should be glad he’d showed his true colors before she’d embarrassed herself.

She wasn’t glad. She was hurt. And very angry.

Luckily—in a way—she didn’t have time to dwell on it since Patsy had broken down and locked herself in the bathroom with another bottle of vodka. She’d cried for hours until Cali had forced the door open in time to hold Patsy’s hair back while she puked. After dumping the remaining vodka down the sink, Cali was on watch. And now she was here trying to direct this action scene with Howard needling her every move.

She just wanted to focus on her job so she could disappear inside the work. Cali loved action scenes. Loved, loved, loved them. The balletic choreography that made a fight feel messy and brutal and awkward filled her with giddy excitement. Paolo had at least six inches on Thalia, but Cali and the stunt coordinator had designed the choreography so Thalia could use Paolo’s size against him—Thalia’s ingenuity winning out over Paolo’s strength.

The actors moved through their choreography with studied ferocity while Jory’s new Steadicam shots brought a frenetic energy Cali hadn’t seen in his shooting before. He moved like a man possessed, ducking and weaving to get close-ups and messy angles as he captured the desperate blows and fevered grunts between the actors. It was exciting, but his intensity sparked a deep unease in her—as though she were watching, powerless, a tsunami’s inevitable approach miles from the shore she was standing on.

Focus on the scene.

The thunder that had made its presence known off in the distance was getting closer, and Dan sent a wary glance at the dark clouds gathering for the afternoon storm.

She was about to call an end to the day when Jory jogged over despite the weight of his camera. “I want to go again.”

Cali frowned. “We’ve got it.”

“I want one more.”

Dan eyed the disappearing sun with an anxiety that mirrored Cali’s. “I don’t like those clouds.”

Jory turned his determined gaze on Dan. “Strike the rest of the cameras, and I’ll shoot alone.”

“We have to pull down the lights and all the other gear.”

“I don’t need them. We go verit é , as real as possible.”

Cali paused. “That raw look goes against the aesthetic of the show.”

“I’m trying something fresh,” Jory insisted.

She frowned at him. He was practically vibrating with manic energy. Why was he pushing so hard? She just wanted to get done with the day so she wouldn’t have to see his stupid, annoying, lovely face. “We really don’t need it. We could end early.”

“Are you happy with this scene?” Jory challenged.

Cali knew her answer would be her undoing. “It’s fine.”

“I thought so. Just me, no other cameras. One more.” Jory stalked away without waiting for an answer.

A little voice inside sent a warning. This wasn’t cool and collected Jory. This was something else. Dan heaved a beleaguered sigh and shouted orders for the rest of the crew to pack up and get ahead of the storm.

Cali turned to the actors who were trying to control their breathing from the exertion. “How are you two? Do you have one more in you?”

Paolo punched the air. “Hell yeah!”

Thalia gave a curt nod.

Without waiting for Cali’s go-ahead, Jory positioned himself and impatiently swirled his finger in the international sign of “let’s go again,” without so much as looking her way.

The mounting wind whipped Cali’s hair into her face. She testily pushed it back. The crew scurried around them, tearing everything down to get the equipment and themselves inside. Soon it was just the five of them standing at the ready as the storm threatened.

Dan hollered. “We gotta go.”

Cali nodded the scene forward. “Action!”

Thalia and Paolo burst into movement. Thalia delivered a flurry of jabs against Paolo’s ribs that caused him to stagger back from the force. She took advantage of his confusion to deliver a roundhouse kick. His head snapped to the left, his body following it, sending him reeling into the wall. Jory danced in and out, capturing their expressions, their fists, their feet—all the same as before.

Frustration erupted over Jory’s features, and he growled at Paolo. “Is that all you got? Is this all you’re good for? You’re a man. Prove it.”

Cali stared. This was the first time she’d heard Jory give Paolo a direction outside of where to stand. But this wasn’t direction, it was manipulation. Jory was using Paolo’s insecurities against him, and knowing Paolo’s penchant for interpreting direction in unpredictable ways, it was a disastrous call. Before she could give a counter-direction, Paolo feinted where he should have blocked, ducked when he should have punched, and pulled Thalia in for a blistering kiss.

It was electric, it was sizzling, and it was completely inappropriate.

Jory grinned like a man possessed.

Thalia pushed Paolo away with a furious scream that was answered by a bolt of lightning and clap of thunder so loud it seemed to come from her vengeful roar.

Torrential sheets of rain poured down.

Thalia launched herself at Paolo like the demon she was—landing real blows. Paolo staggered under the onslaught, barely keeping her at bay until he had no choice but to parry her moves, strike for strike as his own fury boiled to the surface. Jory captured every electrifying second with a dangerous grace that was terrifying in its intensity.

When lightning cracked a second time, Cali came to her senses. Not only were her actors assaulting each other, Jory was a walking lightning rod.

“Cut! Cut! Cut!” Cali shouted as Thalia rained down shot after shot, Paolo fending her off while Jory dodged around them, the scene continuing on with a life of its own.

“Jory!” Cali screamed into the wind.

His eyes flicked up to hers but shot away—ignoring her.

“Jory! Cut!” Another bolt shook the ground. Cali jumped in front of the camera and pulled the actors apart. “Stop!”

“Get out of the frame!” Jory yelled.

As though coming out of a daze, Paolo’s eyes cleared, and he dropped his hands just as Thalia exploded a wicked fast jab to his face. Paolo stumbled back and his hands flew to his nose, already spurting blood. Thalia wound up for another shot, but Cali held her back.

Thalia screamed at Paolo, “Don’t touch me! Don’t you ever touch me!” She shook Cali off and blasted away, Paolo watching her retreat with anguish on his face. His shoulders slumped and he trudged in the opposite direction.

Dan clicked his walkie and shouted over the wind, “Medic!” He sent a murderous look at Cali and Jory and then jogged after Paolo.

Seething with rage, Cali rounded on Jory. “What. The fuck. Was that?”

Jory jerked the camera off its arm and shoved it onto its balancing post. “You ruined it!” A PA swopped in and quickly collected the rig, racing to pull the camera out of the rain, leaving Jory and Cali alone.

“Ruined what? Getting electrocuted?”

“Oh, come on! Do you honestly think we were going to get hit by lightning?” Jory’s face was hard, the rain running down each contour, giving him the air of an unconquerable warrior.

“We’re in an open space, in an electrical storm, and you’re strapped to a metal conductor, so, yeah.”

“We were capturing gold.”

“There are rules for a reason,” she gritted out.

“Always the rules with you.” Frustration boiled to the surface of his features. “Did you see what they were doing? The actors were there, in the dream, in the characters. They weren’t Paolo and Thalia. They were Anna and Rafe in the rawest moment I’ve been able to capture between the two of them. And suddenly you’re afraid.”

“You put the actors’ safety at risk! Your own! Dan’s!”

“I notice you’re not on that list.”

“I don’t matter.” She winced at the slip.

“Whoa, what did you say?”

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.” Panic replaced anger as her throat began to close. “You can’t make people feel unsafe.”

Suddenly all his mania fled, swapped with a look of dawning understanding. “Cali—”

No. No. That was not how this was going down. “I don’t take risks that push actors in a way that’s emotionally manipulative. I don’t take risks that goad a man into assaulting his costar, when that costar probably has PTSD from past experiences and then assaults him back.”

“Cali, stop—”

“I don’t risk my DP shooting in a lightning storm, while he thinks putting everyone in a dangerous position is the best way to get a good scene.”

“No, you’re afraid when things are out of your control. When they’re messy,” he shouted above the wind. “I’m trying to take a risk for this .” He motioned between them.

“It’s too late!” she cried.

Shock bloomed across his face. “Because people don’t deserve second chances? Because people don’t get freaked out? Because taking a risk is so hard for you? You make up rules to keep other people away so you don’t have to risk anything, and sacrifice yourself for your sister and your mother under the guise that they can’t look after themselves. But you need them needing you so you don’t have to live your own life.”

“All I do is take risks!” She began to shake. “How do you think I got here? It wasn’t because I grew up in LA and went to AFI and had my ride paid for.” She saw the hurt in Jory’s eyes but couldn’t stop herself from unsheathing her claws. “You are the great DP with the rising career, but you’ve been putting yourself away, slice by slice, in bitter resignation for years because you think that’s the job. For what? Some beautiful, empty shots with no soul? To pander to producers you barely respect?”

“Cali, this isn’t about the job anymore.”

Cali knew it wasn’t about the job anymore, but she couldn’t separate her hurt from what had just happened on set, they seemed so horrifically entwined. “I’m the one who’s been risking myself on this show to get magic, not you. But when I take a risk, it’s foolish, and when you take one, it’s genius. Howard should fire me already and get you to direct!”

Jory stilled, his jaw slack.

And Cali knew. She knew. “Howard wants to fire me and hire you.”

Jory shook his head. “Cali that’s not—”

“When did Howard ask you?” Cali stepped back from him, her chest collapsing in on itself. “Was it before we …?”

“No, my God no. I mean. Well …” Jory stammered. She had never heard Jory stammer.

“It was. Wow. That’s. Oh my God.” Cali put her hands on her thighs and leaned over. She was going to be sick.

“No. No! It’s not what you think.” Jory stepped toward her.

She put a hand up. “I’m fine. That’s fine. You’ll be perfect for it. I can go back home to look after all those people who I need to need me, and you can stay here and get the future that’s coming to you. I’m sure you and Howard will be very happy.”

Jory lurched back, stunned, but Cali didn’t care. He’d lied to her all the time she’d been struggling to make things work. She turned her back and stumbled through the rain, leaving the postapocalyptic set behind, knowing it was her world that had been blown apart.