18. Noah
Chapter eighteen
Noah
Afilm set is a lot like a colony of ants; everyone bustling this way and that, doing their part to ensure the production works as a whole.
The Director of Photography motions to the gaffer to adjust the light for the overcast conditions.
The First Assistant Camera calibrates the lenses between takes.
And today, thanks to an unfortunate ultimatum, the Assistant Director delivers two headsets to the video village so Awa and I can listen in on shooting from a distance.
Rory motions impatiently for us to put them on.
"Check that you can hear everything clearly," she says brusquely. One sideways glance tells me Awa isn't any happier about the situation than I am, but Rory's face makes it clear our leeway is all used up.
"—you stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours," I hear Tabitha warn, as clear as if she were standing next to me. On the monitor, I see Yong-rae frown.
"You're the one who was stepping on my toes after the last take," he protests, and I wince.
Yes, he should stand up for himself. He worked hard and won this role even without connects or an enviable IMDb page.
But he's talking to Tabitha Fucking Styles.
If anyone's entitled to give their scene partner a few tips, it's her.
I look back over at Awa to see her pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Yes, we can hear them," she groans. The feeling is mutual.
I've been at Luxe for going on a decade.
I'm a partner. And yet suddenly my career hinges on two people who sound like Henry and me in the back of the car on a road trip instead of adult, professional actors who've done this before.
Jim and Brent are practically salivating at the chance to take my place. If things don't improve, they'll do it.
Rory nods to the First AD, a pale, lanky man looming behind her with a clipboard and a headset of his own.
"Taryn will be around if you need anything." He gives us a small wave, and Rory points a menacing finger at both of us. "Don't make his life harder with your bullshit. You're supposed to be here to help me. So…help!"
With that, Rory heads back to where the lighting team is testing around Yong-rae, Tabitha, and a few extras. It's an exterior shot.
"You must've really pissed her off," Taryn chuckles in a thick Welsh accent. "Rory's the most laid-back producer I've ever worked for…until now," he smirks.
I wave away his hand when he reaches to adjust my headset.
"I got it. And I didn't do anything. Despite what the studio thinks, Yong-rae is an adult capable of independent thought. He makes his own decisions."
"You mean his own mistakes," Awa interjects.
"Excuse me?" I object, eyes narrowed. "I think it was Tabitha who kept talking after the director yelled 'cut'."
"Only to set your client straight," she snaps. I press my lips together to contain a retort. I'm pretty sure this bickering is exactly what we shouldn't do if we want to get back on Rory's good side.
Taryn looks between us, his smirk transforming into a knowing grin. What exactly he thinks he knows, I have no idea.
"I can see the two of you will be a delight to work with," he mutters, his words dripping with sarcasm. He gestures to our headsets once more.
"Stay on channel six to hear what the actors are saying. Switch to channel three for me."
With those parting words, he leaves us sitting in the nearly deserted viewing area. Awa whirls on me.
"This is all your fault, by the way."
"My fault?" I shoot back. "How in the world could this be my fault when this is only like my third time on set?"
"Because every single time you're here, something goes wrong!" she shouts. The Second Assistant Camera sends us a worried glance as he scurries past us, and Awa curses under her breath.
"Before you showed up, the only issue was Yong-rae," she hisses. "And we both know he was one missed cue from being canned. Maybe his replacement would've been easier to work with."
"Fuck you," I grit out. "He got off to a rough start, but Tabitha's the one fucking up now."
I see Awa's nostrils flare, and I know she's holding back another scathing remark.
Instead of being upset, I'm struck with an overwhelming wave of nostalgia.
This fire, this back and forth, is exactly what made us such great partners at USC.
She'd make her argument, I'd poke holes in it, and then we'd trade places.
She was so smart, so capable. I see not much has changed.
"I talked to Tabitha. She knows she crossed the line. Even though Yong-rae is barely out of community theater," she mocks sweetly, "she should let him dig his own holes. And when he messes up again, Tabitha will make a great movie with whoever the studio brings in."
I can't resist flipping her off, and she just smiles.
"Honey, he's not going to mess this up. Keep underestimating my client. That's when he does his best work."
"We'll see," she says, rolling her eyes, then turning to face the monitors.
I chuckle to myself. She always did need to have the last word. That's yet another way she reminds me of the girl I used to know, though the similarities stop there.
From the corner of my eye, I notice she's replaced her off-the-rack suits with designer versions.
Instead of the dull grays and browns she used to favor, her current ensemble is a rich forest green.
The skirt stops well above her knees, hugs the thick, lightly dimpled flesh of her thighs, and gives a mouthwatering view of her luscious ass.
It's plumper than I remember, but just as alluring.
If I venture up, I'm met with a single-button blazer that shows off more cleavage than the conservative outfits she wore in college.
Her neck always made me think of Nefertiti, only now it's adorned with an elegant gold necklace that brings out the deep ebony of her skin.
And the naughty librarian glasses are gone, no longer blocking the view of her smooth, high cheekbones and umber eyes.
Further down, silky brown skin tapers to slender ankles and heels so severe they could kill a man. Or bring a man to his knees.
I clear my throat and settle my gaze on the monitor, ignoring her just as much as she's ignoring me.
I ignore the memory of when I last touched her. Of when I last felt her shudder against me in ecstasy. And most of all when she last smiled at me…and then I walked away.
That was forever ago. Now, instead of friendly debate, there's only venom between us.
No matter. I won't let a body built for sin steer me off course.
This time, when it comes to Awa Faye, I'll keep my dick in my pants and my eyes on the prize.
Because one wrong step could bring my world crashing down around me.