Chapter 4
A Literal Person
In my garage the next morning I deliberated between the Porsche and the black electric Audi I drove on the days I wanted more anonymity.
It’d blend in better with the rest of the cars in the DTA garage and perhaps prove some kind of commitment to the environment, but I didn’t like being bullied out of my favorite way of getting around.
I decided I was overthinking it and hopped into the Porsche.
Also it was probably not actually possible to deliberate between two luxury cars while feeling bullied, and I worked hard to quash that line of thought from expanding any further.
Would it be fun to be the least-liked member of a cast, particularly a cast that included someone like Michael Madden?
Of course not! And if the situation was different, if Geoffrey Gordan was still at the helm and the very worst aspects of myself weren’t replaying in my head on a spinning loop, I’d do this differently.
I’d win over everyone or I’d die trying.
Now, though, I had a nagging suspicion that I didn’t deserve to be liked. Winning anyone over would be less of an inevitable event and more of a lie. Rebecca knew who I was, knew what I was capable of doing. What was the point of hiding anything now?
“Morning,” Kathleen greeted me, getting out of the Prius that I’d pulled in next to. “Do you think I parked OK? I haven’t driven regularly in about twenty years, and I noticed Michael gave my rental a side-eye yesterday when we all arrived.”
I glanced over and did my best to choke back a laugh. “Sorry. It’s … very crooked.”
“I hate this city,” she said, though brightly. “Why not put us in housing nearby so we could walk over? No, instead I have the herculean task of driving this metal box and then aligning it between old, faded lines.”
I grabbed her keys out of her hand and hopped in the Prius to straighten it out. It wasn’t the first time that I’d thought in another life I would have made a fantastic valet.
“Oh, geez,” she said, as I handed the keys back to her, but with a laugh. “I have got to get my shit together. I cannot have Princess Platinum fixing my mistakes every morning.”
Kathleen seemed genuinely nice so I tried not to grimace at that, but Kathleen also seemed emotionally intelligent, so I could see that she clocked that I’d made a non-grimacing effort.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “My kiddo loves those movies, they’ve been on a lot in our place. Normally she hates it when I’m working out of town and she’s gotta stay with my sister, but when she heard you were in this, she all but threw me out of our apartment.”
“How old is she?” I asked as we walked through the garage into the complex.
“Fifteen, so you can imagine it’s more than a little thrilling that she thinks anything I’m doing is cool. And my ex-husband has no chance of winning the cooler parent trophy these days, so that I enjoy.” She glanced over to me. “She’s in school right now, but later today—no, I shouldn’t ask you—”
“If you want to FaceTime her, I’m more than happy to join,” I said. “We can’t let your trophy-standing drop.”
“You’re a doll,” Kathleen said. “How’re you feeling about … all of this?”
“Oh,” I said, letting the muscle memory of all my media training take over instead of wondering if I’d inadvertently broadcast all my secret fears yesterday. “Great question.”
“I’ve worked with Geoff a bunch.” Kathleen paused at a spot in the corridor where we could see clearly in all directions. “But, you know, I’m an old lady.”
“Please,” I said, because Kathleen was only in her early fifties.
“Oh, please to you!” She let out an actual cackle.
“You know what I mean. I know how possible—more than possible, how likely it is that shitty things were happening to the younger women in the casts and crews—god, I don’t know what I’m saying exactly.
I was comfortable working again with someone I trusted, but what does trust even mean now?
And I’ve heard great things about Rebecca Frisch, but we haven’t worked together before.
She didn’t cast me, didn’t cast any of us—I’m excited about this show, excited about a young female playwright, even more excited now that we’ve got this female director on board too.
I just hope there aren’t any shake-ups coming. ”
I’d feared it on a very personal level, but hadn’t thought of it in these terms. And I loved that Kathleen just came out and said it, didn’t hide behind a manufactured layer of bravado. “Could that happen?”
“Not to you,” she said, as Michael appeared and headed over.
I focused a pleasant but mindless smile in his direction while I thought again about my scheduled time later today with Rebecca.
It would be a good opportunity to fire me, another table read beforehand to prove she would never have cast me if it had been up to her.
Directly to me instead of my team, to prove a point that it was she who had the power now, she who could break my heart this time.
“It’s gonna be a long few months, huh,” Michael said in a tone like we were all conspiratorially laughing together instead of whatever he was attempting here.
“Every time I book work in Los Angeles I remember why I never want to book work in Los Angeles. It’s depressing how many people want to live in a city without any culture besides restaurants owned by reality stars and the worship of superhero movies. ”
“Isn’t there a museum on the next block?” Kathleen asked.
“Two, actually,” I said, instead of reacting to superhero movies, which was obviously meant for me. “The Broad and MOCA.”
Michael sighed heavily. “You obviously know what I mean.”
He headed into the rehearsal room. Kathleen and I exchanged a smile and followed. At my spot at the table I took out my water bottle from my tote and exhaled. If I didn’t think about the fact that I might be getting fired this afternoon, it was a much better morning so far than I’d had yesterday.
Rebecca walked into the room, and the noise in the room immediately dimmed, and I could see how it made her laugh. “No, please, this isn’t school and I’m not your teacher. We’ll get started in a few, but you don’t have to stop on my account.”
Conversation, though, stayed muted, and I wondered if we were all worried.
I wondered, too, if anyone else had a hard time looking away from Rebecca no matter how much of a threat she was.
Today she was more casual, a white button-down over jeans on top of yesterday’s sneakers, hair in a sensible ponytail.
A million years ago she wore her hair like that almost every day, and I remembered itching to get her alone, pull that elastic out so her hair tumbled everywhere.
One night, almost asleep, her murmuring in my ear.
Gardner, you know I only put it up so you can take it down.
I shifted in my chair and snuck a look around the room, but it seemed apparent that no one suspected me of having a sexual flashback about our director.
“I know that Kevin spoke with some of you about today,” Rebecca said once the full team was assembled in the room, and my heart raced even faster than those summer theatre memories.
“But I wanted to give everyone a better idea of this week’s schedule.
With nearly five weeks until previews, we have the luxury of time, so I’m thrilled we can stay around the table as long as possible.
So we’ll keep at this today and tomorrow—Kevin’s passing out fresh scripts with some rewrites Stephanie did last night—maybe even Friday morning, and then we’ll get up and see how it feels. ”
Michael cleared his throat. “Normally I find it helpful—”
“We can chat about whatever that is this afternoon in our one-on-one,” Rebecca said in an incredibly professional tone that—absolutely not, was there literally anything less appropriate than getting turned on by a woman handling a man’s ego in such a way? No, no, no.
We read again. Despite everything, there was such an incredible relief about this process, this idea that I could just drive to work where we were going to sit down, read the script, and we’d go line-by-line—talking about it!
—which we never got to do for a film. Not that I talked a lot today, but others did, thoughts about backstory and intention and subtext.
I reveled in it: the time, the attention, the conversation.
It was such a luxury. My dialogue took on a familiar shape, even with a few adjusted words, sentences, a joke that landed better.
Already it was seeping into me, even if we were sitting at a table and not yet acting it out.
I hoped Rebecca could feel that, could see how much I wanted this and how hard I would work, how one day in I was better already.
Today when we broke for lunch, I discovered there was a lounge down the hallway, and I found myself at a table with Kathleen, Ashlee, and Henry, who’d also brought their lunches today. It was, I decided, going to be a really nice day up until the moment Rebecca tossed me out.
Kevin walked in holding a takeout container of the same salad I’d gotten yesterday.
“Everyone, I wanted to let you know that Rebecca has a series of one-on-ones this afternoon, and if that includes you, you’ve already heard from me.
The plan is to reconvene around four or four thirty for a quick discush before we break for the night.
I know it’s a little chaotic that I’m telling you now and not before lunch started, but as I’m sure you can imagine, with all of the changes, we’re still getting our bearings.
It’ll get more organized soon, we promise.
And also I’m here to eat lunch, so now I’ll be awkwardly sitting behind you. ”
“No, no, Kevin, join us,” Kathleen said, gesturing to an empty chair at our table. “Tell us everything about you. Have you worked with Rebecca before?”