7. Vonnie
“What the hell was that about?” I asked Gia as we dug into our pasta bowls.
I’d gotten blackened chicken pasta. The chicken was cooked and seasoned perfectly, and I didn’t even want to get started on the sauce.
Oddly enough, the breadsticks were the standout of the meal.
According to the menu, they used crusty bread and added mouthwatering roasted garlic butter.
By the time filming was over, I predicted that I would have gained twenty pounds.
Gia’s New Orleans pasta smelled so good, but after my last encounter with shrimp, I had sworn it off.
Who knew that at almost thirty years old, I would develop an allergy after eating crab and shrimp all my life?
I got the scare of my life on the way home from a girl’s night out when my face started to feel funny, and my throat started closing up.
Thankfully, I was riding with Jahnae; I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t.
She raced through traffic to get me to the emergency room in time to get the necessary treatment.
I left the hospital with a new diagnosis of a shellfish allergy.
It had been years since I had touched seafood altogether.
I didn’t need the problems that came with it.
“What do you mean?” Gia asked after swallowing the mouthful of bread.
“Why do you think Marshawn is inviting us to sit with him on the set? You think he wants to give us an up-close lesson on all the ways our designs aren’t up to par?”
She laughed. “Maybe he’s just trying to be nice. He’s not a jerk 100 percent of the time, Vonnie.”
“I’m just curious. I don’t want to go down there to be berated. I get enough of that right here.”
Gia and I had watched a few scenes play out with the set builders over the past couple of days. Even though there were people designated for the job, she and I helped with touch-ups behind the scenes. It was crazy how quickly makeup and hair went out the window after a scene.
Gia explained that since this was a dystopian film, it was expected that the actors wouldn’t look perfect.
I could only imagine how much work went into keeping the actors up to standard on a different type of film.
I looked forward to it all. While we worked, I noticed that Marshawn was all over the place, giving directions and pointers to achieve his perfect shot. I was enjoying playing the background.
“Girl, all that man is trying to do is get away from that bitch of an ex-wife.”
“He did say that, huh?”
“He’s probably thinking we left him out to dry. They’re shooting with her for the next couple of scenes, though. I say we go down there after we finish eating.”
“Fine with me, but you already know that if he starts his shit, I’m out.”
It was silly that I was nervous as Gia and I took the short trip to Marshawn’s designated sitting area.
I’d seen his big chair and a couple of others flanking it but never imagined that I would be sitting in one of them next to him.
Hell, I never desired to. I liked to stay out of his way.
Every time I was in his line of vision, he had some slick shit to say.
It wasn’t in my nature to bite my tongue, and I was trying my best not to get fired again. This time, it might actually stick.
It appeared as if we were right on time as we approached his section.
Marshawn turned to face us with an electric smile that happened to be trumped only by the vicious snarl spreading across Clarissa’s face as she walked up from the opposite direction.
Either sensing the devil incarnate approaching or following my eyes, Marshawn turned to face her.
She wasn’t close enough to get there before us, so Gia smiled deviously as she eased into the seat to Marshawn’s left side.
There were only two chairs. I didn’t want to make things awkward by dragging the chair across to sit by Gia, so I plopped down on Marshawn’s right side.
“Not the help coming down from the slums trying to join our rankings,” Clarissa said with her custom witchy cackle.
“Whatever.” Gia rolled her eyes.
“Don’t come over here with that shit.” Marshawn held up a hand as he warned Clarissa.
“I’m back, Marty. You can dismiss them.” Clarissa waved her hand at us while looking at him.
“Actually… I need the designers to watch with me for a while,” Marshawn said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I want them here.”
“Are you really going to treat me this way in front of a seamstress and her apprentice?” she asked.
“I’m not a damn apprentice.” I snapped. More lethal words lingered on my tongue, and I was having a hard time coaxing them back down my throat.
“Good for you,” Clarissa spat.
“You knew that, Clarissa. Don’t be a bitch if you can help it,” Marshawn warned.
“God knows what this little girl does around here. All I’m saying is… they don’t belong here. Send them on their way so I can have a seat. My feet are killing me.”
“Clarissa, I’ve worked with you on at least three different sets. Since when haven’t you stayed hidden in your trailer or in your designated section, demanding absolute privacy? Those were the good old days. Lord knows I didn’t miss hearing you bitch and moan,” Gia muttered.
“I don’t want to hear it. We are about to start shooting. Clarissa, I’m sorry, but they were invited.”
She grimaced. “By who?”
“By me. Who else?” Marshawn informed her.
“Fine, but since y’all have so much time to sit around doing nothing, I assume your work is done. My looks for tomorrow better be flawless, little girl!” Clarissa threatened, pointing her finger inches away from my nose.
“Bitch, if you don’t get your bony-ass finger out of my face, you’re gonna have to find a new way to count to ten!” I advised her, pushing forward to stand.
I was tired of her shit. Marshawn stiff-armed me, using his forearm to push me back into my seat. His smoldering eyes were sympathetic as they connected with mine. The combination of rage and passion that filled me had my heart slamming against my chest.
“Clarissa, please take your ass back to your section.” Gia shook her head.
“See what I’m saying, Marty? You want these kinds of people hanging around, bringing all this negativity. You and I were having a great time.”
Marshawn’s eyes were still on me as I considered smacking the taste out of this succubus’s mouth.
I didn’t want to blow my big break out of anger, but she was highly disrespectful.
Clarissa didn’t know me from a hole in the ground, yet she continued to attack me every chance she got.
I knew it was probably because I was new around here.
However, I might have been new, but I was far from a pushover.
Marshawn tilted his head slightly. He didn’t speak any words, but for some reason, his gaze was comforting.
It didn’t matter what Clarissa had to say; I belonged here.
Marshawn’s plea to relax was unspoken, but I felt it through his eyes.
Once I settled into my seat, he turned his attention back to Clarissa.
“Clarissa, go! You know you were antagonizing the girl. If I were her, I would have shoved that finger up your ass, so don’t look for any pity from me.”
Clarissa wagged that same finger at Marshawn and began to chuckle bitterly. “Wow, a couple of pretty faces come around, and you start showing your ass.”
“We weren’t having all that great of a time. I asked them to come over here so you couldn’t come back. I tried to be nice, but since you want to be a bitch, take yourself back there to your trailer or wherever you’ve been up until now,” Marshawn told her.
“I don’t have to go anywhere. I can have you fired, you know?” Clarissa asked, turning to me.
Not again.
I looked at Marshawn, who was slowly shaking his head. I don’t even know why I looked to him for a lifeline after he’d tried to fire me on my first day.
“You don’t have control over that. We’re too far into shooting to be changing things anyway,” Gia interjected.
“Oh, you think I don’t? I’ll have Larsen shut this little heifer down and send her packing in less than twenty minutes. You want to go with her?”
“Sit your ass down! This isn’t the Clarissa Sanders Show. We’re shooting a movie.” Marshawn sighed.
“And I’m the star!”
“Unfortunately and a major pain in my ass, might I add.”
“Are you screwing one of these little girls?” Clarissa asked, propping her hand on her hip.
“Clarissa, go get ready for your next scene or something. I suggest you go practice your lines because I’m not in the fucking mood to shoot a scene over and over just because you aren’t feeling it.”
“Marty?” she whined.
“Quiet on the set!” Marshawn yelled into his megaphone.
I let out a sigh of relief as Clarissa stomped off to wreak havoc elsewhere. I really couldn’t stand her.
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
“You’re welcome, Georgia. Now quiet,” he said, hiking his brows.