Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
Callie left with more than she’d ever dared hope to get from Mae.
It wasn’t forgiveness, and it wasn’t anything close to a resurrection of their friendship, but it was more than she felt she deserved.
Mae had let her speak, and for the first time in a long while, Callie could move forward knowing Mae now knew that Callie hadn’t walked away lightly, hadn’t caused pain easily, hadn’t survived the life easily without Mae.
That she hurt herself with her actions, too.
It was a miracle. But it wasn’t enough. Especially given the fact that Callie had possibly ruined Mae’s life again with her stupid career and the stupid cameras, and her stupid fake boyfriend.
By the time she got out the front, they were loading up the van, and Callie was machinating. There had to be some string she could pull, someone she knew who could go over Neil’s head.
But she couldn’t think of anyone. She’d never had power in this industry. She hadn’t tried to climb. She’d only ever stumbled forward.
Could she threaten to quit? Maybe that could work… But knowing Neil, he’d take her up on it and find a way to make it an embarrassing spectacle. Maybe even tie it into the Mae footage.
There was, she realised, an easier way to make the problem disappear.
Most of the crew were in that restless, post-wrap daze, pretending to pack while really just hovering and chatting.
Sam was down the road, trapped in conversation with an elderly woman who looked on the verge of bursting with the joy of proximity to Someone From The Television.
Isabella had vanished, presumably to clean her brushes or be withering to someone.
The camera operator was crouched by the door, slotting lenses into their foam beds. The main camera body sat on a padded mat at his feet. The SD card cover was flipped open.
Callie’s pulse ticked up. Don’t be stupid, she told herself. But she was already moving.
‘Hey,’ she said brightly. ‘How did it look?’
The cameraman, Dan, turned his head and smiled, pleased to be asked. ‘Really nice,’ he said. ‘Lovely colour palette in that kitchen. It should look great. Especially that bit with—’ he stopped, realising what he was about to say and who he was saying it to.
Callie pretended not to notice his faux pas. ‘Neil still about?’ Callie asked.
‘On the phone with someone in the car,’ Dan said.
Callie looked over to see him in the back of his car, talking animatedly into a phone, good and occupied.
Callie turned back to Dan and smiled. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask…’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’ve been thinking, this gig can’t last forever…’
‘No?’
‘I can’t be cosying up to muscly hunks in my fifties, can I?’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe with good Botox…’
Callie ignored that. ‘So I was thinking about getting into reality TV camera operation. You got any tips?’
Dan’s face lit up. He did indeed have tips.
As he spoke, his hands kept going, automatic. He pressed the eject button. The card slot popped open.
There it was. The whole day, reduced to an object the size of a postage stamp.
‘…and in that way, it’s kind of like being a nature documentarian, because sometimes you really want to intervene in a custody argument that’s happening in a hot tub, but you can’t.’
‘How long have you been working in this industry?’ she asked.
She was pretty sure she wasn’t being all that subtle, her eyes flicking back and forth between Dan and the SD card. But Dan wouldn’t have noticed if she’d picked her nose and eaten it. He liked talking about himself.
‘Oh Christ, now you’re asking.’ He stood up, and his eyes rolled up as he cycled back through his career, his equipment momentarily forgotten. ‘Well, I started at eighteen on Babe Station. Learned very quickly how to keep the camera focused on a jiggling nipple.’
There wasn’t going to be a better chance, and Callie knew it.
Years of reality TV work had taught her how to pick things up without looking at them.
Glasses, plates, and lately, silver-plated keys.
This was no different. Dan looked skyward again, talking about his time working on Jeremy Kyle, which was, ‘much less dignified than softcore.’
Callie pressed the card down, and it slid out easily. She palmed it.
‘You didn’t get screamed at too often as long as you didn’t catch his thinning spot in the studio lights…’
‘Right,’ Callie said lightly. ‘Thanks, Dan. You’ve really given me something to think about. I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Oh, Ok,’ he said, breaking off with mild disappointment. ‘Anytime.’
She turned and walked off quickly, the small, hard shape burning into her palm.
She didn’t know exactly where she was going. She was supposed to be getting in a car now, transported home. But not until she’d dealt with the troublesome item.
She found herself walking across the green toward the pond. She saw the ash tree. She’d been avoiding it so far. But she was beelining for it now.
She was almost there when she heard her name.
‘Callie!’
Neil’s voice. She kept walking.
‘Callie, stop.’
She stopped at the water’s edge. The pond was a dull, mucky brown, same as ever. The tree, though, was in full flourish. A beautiful green plume, jutting skyward. It was good to see it.
Neil caught up, breathing hard.
‘Give it back,’ he said, not bothering with charm. ‘Don’t make this a thing.’
Callie looked at the water. It was shallow near the edge, deeper in the middle.
‘You can’t just—’ Neil started.
She turned to him. ‘I can.’
He took a step closer. ‘You’ll regret this. You’re supposed to win, you know. You won’t if you do this. I can’t let you.’
She sighed. The money would have been nice, that was for sure. A little cushion she would now not have. And her mother’s begging bowl would not be filled. She wouldn’t be happy.
But then, when was she ever?
Callie opened her hand. The card sat there harmlessly.
‘I don’t want to win,’ she said, more to herself than to him. And then she flicked her wrist.
The card arced into the pond with a quiet yet satisfying sploosh.
‘FUCK!’ Neil screamed.
Callie watched the ripples spread and disappear. She felt oddly lighter. She turned and walked away before Neil could say anything else.