Love, Camera, Action

Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Cali barely slept. Dread had become the life force flowing through her, mixed with a heady dose of fear, self-recrimination, and unworthiness.

After the shoot finished, Cali went to check in on Thalia while Dan looked in on Paolo. The third AD, stationed outside Thalia’s trailer, let Cali know that she wasn’t seeing anyone, and if Cali wanted to pass on any information, she would have to do so through Thalia’s management. As Cali trudged to her car, a text from Dan told her that while Paolo’s nose was a bit swollen, he was already recovering. Jory was staying with him while the medic looked Paolo over. She wished she could have seen the actors, to assure herself they were truly alright. But as light began to seep through her lush, heavy curtains, she realized she might never see them again.

She would be fired today. Not just fired off the show, but fired from the business. Once the stain of being let go from one show seeped into your reputation, it followed you to every interview, every connection. The business was gossipy and news traveled fast. She’d be on a plane back to Toronto with nothing to show for her hard work except a big black mark.

She would return to work in obscurity—if obscurity would have her—and struggle to keep her family afloat and her sanity intact. But she had lost something greater than a “break,” greater than a job or her career. She’d lost hope she could have someone of her own to care for, who would care for her. Somewhere deep down she’d believed she could have her “One.” She didn’t realize she’d even had that hope until it had been smashed to pieces, and now her One was done, revealed for the big lie it was.

She curled into a ball on her bed, her king-sized, Egyptian cotton–sheeted bed, and sifted through every exchange between her and Jory. Had he been lying all along? Maybe he had been working both sides, gaining advantage from her mistakes while taking credit for her successes. He never had come clean with Paolo. Maybe he had been pitting the star against her so Jory could come in and save the day, impressing Howard with his ability to manage the talent and clean up after the newbie director.

As tidy a story that would make, it didn’t ring true. She knew her reasoning was off, but it was hard to be rational when she felt so betrayed. Now she had to get up and go to work and pretend nothing had happened. Pretend the hammer wasn’t about to come down, pretend her career hadn’t been destroyed, pretend her heart hadn’t turned to ash.

Cali dragged herself out of bed and began to dress, pulling on clothes like a suit of armor: her most comfortable yet stylish jeans, a red zip-up that taunted “Bring it” over the heart, and her sturdy Blundstone boots. She wouldn’t be accused of cowardice on her walk to the gallows. She would go to set early to prepare her day and direct the best scenes of her life, while meeting her fate with as much dignity as she could muster. Joan of Arc approaching the stake. Alone.

When she walked out of her room, she saw a light on in the kitchen. Patsy sat huddled over a mug at the island, staring into the middle distance. Usually Cali would put her own needs away to meet Patsy’s, cheer her up, listen to her woes, curse the latest man—no matter the cost to herself.

For the first time, Cali saw the unfairness of being the strong one, the one who made all the decisions, all the sacrifices. Maybe Jory was right. That she’d allowed it. That she took care of others because it was safer than taking care of herself. She was tired of being a martyr. Tired of giving everything she had for other people’s drama. She deserved her own.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Patsy pulled back from the abyss and turned dark, dull eyes to Cali.

“This.” Cali motioned between them. “This thing we do. I don’t want to be the responsible one anymore. I love you and I’m worried for you and I’m sorry you’re going through a shit time, but I’m having my own shit time. I need you to look after yourself.”

Patsy stayed quiet. And that pissed Cali off. Why was she always the one who did all the work? Cali would fill in the silence with chatter until she ended up helping again. Telling herself it was fine and she could do this one thing, she could carry everyone, she was strong. Well, she wouldn’t do it. Cali blew out a breath and stepped away to leave.

“You’re really good at this,” Patsy murmured.

Cali blinked. “Sorry?”

“You’re really good at this. Being a director.”

What now? “Pats, come on. Focus on what I’m saying.” Cali felt her anger rise. “I can’t support you anymore. I can’t be the one who picks up your pieces as you destroy yourself over and over. I have my own pieces to pick up, and there are pieces, Patsy. There are pieces all over the place.” Cali flung her arms around to underline the multitude of fictional pieces. “And I want to be able to pick them up. Or, God forbid, have someone else pick them up. I am so done with everyone else’s pieces!”

Patsy stared at her in silence for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “You should be done.” Patsy’s gaze turned hard. “And you shouldn’t stop directing.”

“I never said—”

Patsy cut Cali off with a sharp glance. She knew there was trouble. Patsy always knew.

Cali’s shoulders sank and she rubbed her face. “They’re going to fire me today.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Patsy paused, thinking. “But they haven’t fired you yet.”

“No, not yet.”

Patsy nodded. “I don’t know what’s going on with your fuckwit boss or that grumpy hot guy, but they should be helping you. You’re a goddamn treasure.”

“They don’t—” Cali stuttered to a stop. “What grumpy hot guy?”

“The camera guy. The one you’ve been sleeping with. Your stuff is always good, but with that guy it’s breathtaking. There’s a chemistry between you that’s hard to ignore.”

Cali’s mind raced through all the moments she and Jory had created that would now live forever in the television universe. Then, those moments on set when she’d catch him watching her direct the actors, respect and warmth in his eyes. How joy burst in her chest when he laughed. That his kiss felt like the home she’d never had.

“I don’t want you to be like me,” Patsy said.

Cali shook her head to bring herself back to the present. “It’s not your fault things go wrong.”

“It is, actually.” Patsy grew quiet, introspective. “I’ve been lying, mostly to myself. I know you think I get dumped. That men dump me because I’m too intense, that I want too much. But …” Patsy huffed out a blast of air, looking for courage. “It’s me that dumps them. I end it. Always. Because they don’t have what I’m searching for.”

Cali couldn’t understand what Patsy was saying. For years Patsy had been crying over lost relationships, drinking herself to sleep in weeklong binges, losing time at work and at school. But now that Cali thought back on it, Patsy never told her what had happened outside of saying, It’s over. “Why did you let me think you were the one dumped?”

“Because you have firm ideas about the nonexistence of love. And I didn’t want to face what the real problem was.” Patsy voice was watery. “I had love once. Real true love, and I threw it away because I didn’t believe in it. I was afraid he would leave me, so I left him. And I’ve been searching for that same love ever since.”

Cali forced herself to be still despite her warring emotions—anger over being deceived, guilt for not knowing, shame over her own stubbornness. “Who was he?” Cali murmured.

“Colin.”

“The colleague you left your program over? Who cheated on his wife with you?”

“Yes, the colleague, but he didn’t cheat with me. We first met when he was the TA for my third-year Classics course. We were together for six months, and I broke it off before he left to do his PhD. He came back into my life last month, a fully tenured professor, filling in for someone who left my dissertation board. When I saw him, I realized I’d never stopped loving him. But he has a wife and a baby and a cottage.” Patsy stared into her coffee mug. “He’s perfectly happy without me. And I’ve wasted all this time searching for what I had with him.”

Cali couldn’t believe it. Her sister had hidden this from her because she believed Cali wouldn’t understand. But holy hell, did she understand. Cali had kept herself away from relationships so she wouldn’t get hurt, and Patsy had thrown herself into them because she had . But at least Patsy had tried. Cali hadn’t even done that. And worse, Cali was in the process of throwing away the very thing Patsy so desperately searched for.

Patsy raised desolate eyes to Cali. “You have to trust something will go right instead of looking for what might go wrong.”

Cali’s nose tingled. “The grumpy hot guy is not what he seems.”

Patsy cast an assessing gaze over Cali and considered her for a long time before she nodded. “We rarely are. Just don’t be like me. Don’t push love away because you’re afraid you’ll lose it. Or you will.”

Inconvenient and embarrassing tears threatened to fall. Cali tried to force them back, but one escaped.

Patsy watched the tear slide down her cheek. “Crybaby.”

Cali laughed, but it only caused more tears to flee.

Patsy held out a take-out napkin. “One seed at a time, okay?”

Cali took it and scratched the tears away with the rough paper. “One seed at a time.”

Patsy placed a hand to her sister’s cheek, and Cali covered it with her own to soak in its warmth. Patsy whispered, “You do so much and you get so little. I’m ashamed for having done that to you.”

Cali squeezed her eyes tighter.

Patsy gave Cali a pat. “Now go show those assholes who they’re losing.”

“You’re not coming?” Cali blew her nose.

“Nah, thought I’d try to get back in my program. With a different dissertation board.”

“Okay.” Cali let out a tremulous breath. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“No.” Patsy smiled. “I won’t.”

As Cali walked through the studio, a sense of eerie calm stole over her. She wondered when they would fire her. If they’d strike when she first came in or at the end of the day. It all seemed unimportant in the light of Patsy’s confession. For years, Cali had believed her sister was a victim. That she needed the fairytale of true love like their mother to endorse her existence. Instead, Patsy was slowly destroying herself because she’d had the real thing and had thrown it away, victimizing the men instead.

If Cali had misperceived what was going on all this time with her sister, what else had she gotten wrong? Who else had she gotten wrong? Her world had shifted, and she wasn’t entirely sure she was unhappy about it.

But first seed first. No matter how heartbroken she was over Jory, she wanted to leave this set with a sense of accomplishment. Right off the top of the day, Cali had to direct the season’s biggest scene with a confidence she could no longer fake—the scene where the main characters fall in love. If this was going to be her last kick at the can, she would make it unforgettable, one seed at time .

She’d been mulling over this scene from the moment she’d read the script, turning it in her mind, weighing various ways to shoot the exchanges between the two characters, how their bodies would touch, the sounds they would make, the delivery of their lines. The options she’d come up with felt flat now. Inauthentic and immature. Perhaps in the face of her own changing feelings, she recognized her ideas about love had been merely that—ideas. She hadn’t been thinking with her heart, because perhaps she had never understood the nature of love. She’d seen, from the outside, how it destroyed, but not how it built from within. How love made you giddy and unsure, bereft when it proved false, but ultimately left you … better.

The scene was back in Paolo/Rafe’s bedroom, a mirror to the sex scene Cali had directed her first day. A day from forever ago. Cali felt like a different woman, no longer the naive hopeful who had flirted with the idea she could stretch herself as a director with the help of a seemingly cold, gorgeous, and talented DP.

Cali blinked hard to focus back on the task at hand.

In the script, Paolo/Rafe again wakes up with Thalia/Anna above him, but instead of the interaction heating up into a sexy romp, they connect on a deeper level as the first inklings of love spark between them.

Sex scenes were easy compared to love scenes. Love required a delicate hand to hold an audience captive, to humble them as they witnessed two people take a leap of faith. Anything with soft music or easy glides or—that word again—“clich é ” concepts, could make the moment a cheese fest worthy of a groan. But if you didn’t delve into the emotion their connection would come off staged and empty. Now she had to design the perfect love scene when her own heart was breaking, when her actors were on the verge of charging each other with assault, with the crew knowing she was a dead woman walking, alongside a duplicitous DP who would usurp her place. A DP she was in love with.

Cali’s eyes stung.

Shuffling sounds that could only belong to Dan approached. “You’re here early.”

“I wanted to get a jump on the day.” Cali met him with what she hoped was the definition of Brave Face.

“Good idea.” Dan shifted his gaze. “Um … Howard wants to see you in his office after this scene.”

Cali nodded. Her hour of execution had been set.

Dan gave her a thoughtful look. “Jory crossed some boundaries yesterday. The union might want to know what happened. Or Melanie.”

Dan was handing her a chance to turn the tables in her favor. If she reported Jory for a breach of protocol by endangering the cast and themselves, she could have a case against being fired. Even as she entertained the idea, sharp pangs ricocheted around her belly. She supposed those were love pangs. She couldn’t betray Jory like that, even though it was his fault. Ugh. This love thing wouldn’t even allow her proper revenge. What a drag.

Cali waved a hand. “No, it’s okay. I had it out with him.”

Dan considered her, and Cali straightened under his assessment. Dan had definite dad energy, and she soaked it in, hoping for his approval. He smiled and said enigmatically, “Keep an open mind. Fortunes can change on a dime in this business.”

Then he walked away. It was sweet of him to give her some hope when she knew there was none. She was not the type hope worked for.

One seed at a time.

Her first seed was Thalia.

Cali padded down the long main hall that intersected the perpendicular offshoots to the other departments—Wardrobe, Props, Administration. The departments were hushed, populated only by the lowliest of assistants hoping to be noticed for their early arrivals. The quiet rhythm of her steps helped her think, to reflect on her sister’s words. That she should trust, she shouldn’t let love go, shouldn’t be afraid to be left. Even Dan had said her fate could change on a dime.

Perhaps she’d been wrong about Jory. She hadn’t given him a chance to explain. Perhaps his face had filled with his version of horror because she’d gotten the wrong idea, instead of with guilt over having been caught. Maybe there was some logical reason he was taking her job, like some vengeful goblin was holding his long-lost twin captive and only Jory could save him by betraying an innocent maiden.

Or maybe there was a more mundane explanation. A tiny tendril of hope wove its way through her heart.

Howard’s door opened at the end of the hall, and out stepped the subject of her thoughts. Cali slowed to a stop and watched Jory click the door shut, a smile on his face. A triumphant smile.

So, the first explanation, then. Just betrayal. She ducked away before he could see her, moving deeper into the maze of the production hallways to avoid him, training her ears for any sound of hurried steps or the call of her name—any sliver of an indication he was chasing her down, trying to explain, to set things right. But there wasn’t one footfall, not one exclamation or shuffle behind her.

As she walked through the liminal space of long hallways and closed doors, she expected her devastation to be complete, but instead found that the tendril of hope hadn’t quite turned to dust. It stubbornly remained, a daisy growing out of concrete. With Jory, Cali had discovered she could have something she’d always thought wasn’t meant for her. She’d never entertained the possibility of having a partner who could share her burdens and joys simply because she’d assumed she would be alone. She’d never seen an example of how someone could be helpful, not only because the men in her mother’s and sister’s lives were so useless, but also because her mother and sister had never truly helped her either.

But she’d shared something with Jory, even if it was only for a few short weeks. They’d worked together in the bedroom and on set, and in the quiet moments in between. Cali even felt at times she could be the weak one, because Jory was there to take over, to make sure everything was alright. There had been an ease, a safety in being with him, as well as an excitement that they were building something greater than what each of them could build on their own.

Her heart was breaking, for sure. Trampled into the ground and oozing out life force. But it was still beating. And now she knew love could be more than a sap on someone’s strength, that it could create something new. Which meant Cali could find it again with someone else. Maybe not immediately, but someday. And that was cause for hope.

She just wished it could have been with Jory.

Cali took her bearings and discovered she’d found her way to her destination, the door to Makeup. Wiping another errant tear that had somehow managed to escape, she took a deep breath and opened the door, strode past the line of mirrors, and sat in a chair beside Thalia.

Thalia’s hair stylist pulled out a roller, artfully manipulating a wave into a disheveled mess while Thalia’s eyes met Cali’s in the mirror with a cold vengeance. “I am very angry.”

Cali held her stare. “You should be.”

Thalia leaned forward, pulling the stylist with her, squeezing lotion from a pump onto her hands and slapping them together to beat the moisture in. “That’s twice he’s forced himself on me, and I won’t tolerate it.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Thalia straightened, pushing the stylist back. “I’m going to report him to the actor’s union.”

“He’s already reported himself.”

Thalia’s head snapped toward Cali, sending rollers and clips flying around the room. The stylist muttered, “Aw man …” and began picking them up.

Cali held Thalia’s gaze with open candor. “He turned himself in for disciplinary action. He’s taking full responsibility.”

Thalia’s jaw dropped. “Oh.”

Cali let the moment breathe. She needed Thalia on board with her this morning, and that meant complete transparency. Transparency was a risk, but there was no other way with a woman like her. “What I’m about to offer might not hold any weight in the next few hours because my position here is … on shaky ground. But I will back you up in regard to what I’ve witnessed between you and Paolo.”

Thalia studied her warily, as though she hadn’t expected any support, and now that she’d gotten some, wasn’t sure what to do with it.

Cali continued. “That said, I don’t think Paolo is the type of man who is either predatory or entitled. Just so we’re clear, I’m not a fan of the unconscious sexism excuse. At this point everyone should realize when they’re being misogynistic assholes. But I feel Paolo falls under the category of a guy trying to learn a new way to be.”

A darkness gathered in Thalia’s eyes that was frankly terrifying. Cali understood why she’d landed the role of the demon, because Cali had the idea she was about to get incinerated. Still, she forged on. “Teaching him that new way is not your job, nor is it mine. He has to learn that himself. But I do think his responsible act of holding himself accountable and doing it quickly shouldn’t be ignored.”

Thalia spoke in a quiet, threatening voice. “Are you telling me this so I’ll be a good little girl and do the love scene today?”

“My job is to deliver this episode for as long as they allow me to do that. So yes, I have a vested interest in you continuing to work with Paolo. If you think he deserves another chance, then I would make sure you are safe so the job gets done. But despite my horse in this race, if you can’t abide him, then you shouldn’t do the scene. Screw everything and everyone else. Your safety and self-worth are more important.”

The hair stylist popped up from the floor, looking at Cali like she’d just told a toddler to cross the freeway. Cali ignored her. She knew giving Thalia an out was a risk. Some producers made sure actors felt they had little power—they were easier to control that way. Cali thought, if she instead gave Thalia the power, and she chose Cali’s way, then Thalia would be in, one hundred percent. Of course, if Thalia took that power and walked away, Cali was fucked.

Thalia’s eyelids fluttered in shock. “Are you saying I don’t have to do the scene?”

Cali nodded.

“I couldn’t do that.”

“Of course you could. It might be too much to ask you to rise above what happened with Paolo. That is not a dare,” Cali underlined, pointing a finger at her. “If you want to back out, I’m sure you can find something in your contract that allows you to legally refuse to continue, and you should call your agent right now and find out if that’s possible . ”

Thalia frowned. Cali waited, fighting the urge to fill the void.

The stylist brought up her brush and asked quietly, “Should I keep going?”

Thalia considered her own reflection in the mirror. “I’m a professional.”

“One of the best I’ve worked with,” Cali affirmed.

“So. Director. What should I do?”

Cali wasn’t sure if Thalia was challenging her or sincerely asking the question. She decided it was both. “Look for the man you’re acting with who was brave enough to admit he was wrong and humble enough to take responsibility.”

Thalia fell silent, her lips pressed together. Then she straightened. “If he makes one move off script, I’m walking.”

“Deal.” Cali nodded to the stylist to keep on with the artful dishevelment. The stylist let out a relieved sigh.

Cali got up from her chair to leave, but Thalia stopped her with a hand on her arm. “You’re one of the best directors I’ve worked with. And I’ve worked with a lot. Whatever goes down, I’ll always say that.”

Humbled, and misty (again—ugh!), Cali nodded. “Thank you.”

She closed the Makeup door behind her and leaned against it, silently appealing to the TV gods for some grace to get through this morning. One seed at a time.

She pushed away from the door and collided into Paolo.

They swayed under the impact, and Cali grabbed his elbows to steady them. “Whoa! You okay? I don’t want you to take another trip to the medic.”

Paolo instantly went red. “Oh, hi, Cali,” he said and fumbled toward the Makeup door.

Cali put up her hands. “That’s not a great idea. She’s pretty angry.”

He tried to shoulder through. “I need to clear things up between us.”

Cali sidestepped to block him. “Now is not the time.”

Paolo’s face fell. “This is all my fault.”

He collapsed hard against the wall, eyes down, posture defeated.

Cali gingerly mirrored his pose. “I know you’re more comfortable with Jory, but do you mind if I share an observation with you?”

Paolo’s eyes rose to hers, and Cali held her breath at the storm of emotions she saw there: guilt, hope, fear, vulnerability. This man was full to the brim, and no one had tapped into it, least of all him.

Cali wanted to hit this scene out of the park for herself, but also to show Paolo what he could do. That he was an actor and, with a little help, could be a skilled one. “I think you care deeply about what you’re doing on this show. I see you striving to do good work, but you haven’t found your way yet.”

Paolo’s lips parted, as though he’d been caught out. “I do want to be good. They don’t think I can.”

“Who?” Cali knew but wanted Paolo to say it.

“The crew. The producers.” Paolo studied his feet. “Thalia.”

Cali nodded. Thalia was the real problem. Not the crew or the producers. Paolo wanted Thalia to respect him. “I think you have to stop thinking about what’s good and start doing what’s true. You’re not an actor who works from here.” Cali tapped her temple. “Acting for you is doing. It’s listening. Find an action to focus on that will free you up to really listen, and the authentic Paolo will come out.”

Paolo stilled. A serenity washed over him in direct opposition to his usual frenetic energy. This shy, quiet person was probably closer to who the real Paolo was. He was breathtaking.

Cali continued, “You won’t be able to fix what’s happened between you and Thalia before this scene. So here’s a trick that will hopefully work for your acting and keep her safe.”

Paolo peered at her with hopeful eyes.

Cali drew an imaginary line between her heart and his with her hand. “Pretend there’s a rope that connects your heart to hers. The tighter the rope pulls, the more it hurts, so you have to keep close. You want to touch her, but it burns when you do.”

Torment seeped into Paolo’s gaze. “That’s what I feel anyway.”

Cali could only nod. Who knew the two of them would be pining for people who didn’t want them? Paolo was in deep and she was loathe to leave him drowning alone. She let her own torment leak out, her voice hitching. “Listen to that emotion, as painful as it is. Feel the emptiness, the futility. Feel the hopelessness and the regret. But remember the love too. What did you say before? ‘You relish that pain since it means you exist.’ ”

Paolo nodded at her in understanding, a compatriot.

“Do that.” Cali smiled and turned to go, then stopped herself. “Just to clarify, don’t touch her skin and be all like, ‘Ah! It burns!’ or make hissing sounds and blow on your fingers. Be manly about it. Take the pain.”

Paolo gave her a wry look. “I got it.”

Cali started to step away, when Paolo’s voice pulled her back, “I know it’s Jory who thinks I can’t act. Not you.”

“Oh?” She tried to hide her shock.

“I kind of got it before, but Jory set me straight. I was dumb, thinking I should play the game by sidling up to the guy who would be here the longest. I should have gone with the person who believed in me.”

Jory had set him straight? When? Why? It didn’t make sense. He should never have undermined an actor’s trust in him. Maybe she had gotten it wrong. Maybe she’d jumped to conclusions about Jory’s intentions—again. God, this trust thing was brutal. Cali felt that stupid tendril of hope grow bigger.

“We cool?” Paolo put out his fist. Cali awkwardly bumped it.

He sheepishly smiled and walked away, hands in his pockets, head down.

Cali slowly turned to take in the last, long hallway in front of her. She blew out a breath and quietly walked to set for her final seed.