32. Awa
Chapter thirty-two
Awa
"Iwas glad to hear you tied everything up with the Fossekall option," Conrad grits out through a phony smile. "I thought your schedule might have been too packed to sit down with them."
I reach across the kitchen island for the oat milk, then pour a generous amount into my coffee. I stir in silence, savoring the discomfort I feel wafting off of my colleague.
"Daniel mentioned you were concerned," I say finally. "Why, may I ask, were you speaking to him about one of my clients?"
He breaks my direct eye contact to place his own mug into the office sink. Yeah, you better look away, connard.
"You're acting as if something unsavory occurred, when really, Daniel and I are old classmates from Princeton. He called to schedule a game of squash during his next East Coast visit, and Patrick's script came up in the natural flow of conversation."
I suppress an eye roll, just barely. Conrad might want to leave the acting to his clients. I'd sooner believe he's stepping down as partner to open a nonprofit than that Patrick's script "just came up".
"Next time," I say, turning back from placing my dirty spoon into the dishwasher, "please reach out to me rather than offering to negotiate on my behalf.
I appreciate your concern, but I'm sure you wouldn't want even the appearance of client poaching, especially not with one of your top-earning attorneys. "
I flip my twists over my shoulder and leave Conrad gaping like a fish on land. More than a few eyes follow me as I stride purposefully to my office at the end of the hall.
I'm not usually so direct. Most days, I meet their passive-aggressive and sometimes outright misogynistic behavior with a smile, swallowing down any scathing rebuttal I might have in the spirit of picking my battles.
If I let every slight hurt my feelings, I'd never get anywhere in a business that's dominated by men like him.
So instead, I keep my mouth shut and let my stellar work and faithful clients speak for me.
Today, however, I'm on edge.
Drinks with Camila went better than expected.
It's too early to say we're friends, but we're definitely more than colleagues.
One cocktail turned into three, we both ordered food, and by the second hour together, we were gabbing like Nina and Josie in "Love Jones".
We compared our law school experiences, I pretended to relate to her relationship stories, and then I came home tipsy and more than a little horny.
Too drunk to care about looking desperate, I texted Noah. I was eager for him to deliver on the texts that had kept me wet and tingly all week. Texts so hot, I'm surprised they didn't burn a hole in my pocket.
But it wasn't meant to be. He was stuck at a last-minute runway show, and I had to resort to my rose and a cold shower.
Saturday, I was in New Haven to see a client perform at the Shubert Theatre, then stayed to catch a show from the Yale School of Drama.
And on Sunday, we were both caught up in our prep for a busy week ahead.
It was hard not to feel a little let down after all the buildup.
It's even harder to ignore the echoes of the last time we were together.
How he said nothing would change and then suddenly, everything had.
How I wanted to spend every night after with him, exploring our new physical relationship, only to discover he was avoiding me.
That's not what's happening now. I know it's not. This time, I ran scared rather than wake up alone or, worse, be asked to leave like our night together meant nothing. I couldn't risk that I was once again the only one feeling something between us.
I also know that an impossible schedule that takes its toll on friends, family, and even your mental health is part of the job.
The entertainment industry doesn't care that my night with Noah opened the floodgates holding back my long-ignored libido, or that I still haven't quite recovered from my jet lag.
In the city that never sleeps, I can't either unless I want to miss out on scoring the retainer for the next Margot Robbie, or fall behind on my never-ending workload.
I raise my arms above my head to stretch my aching back—a back that is unfortunately not blown out—when Elle, my assistant, buzzes me through the intercom.
"Ms. Faye," she chirps in her ever-cheerful voice, "Tabitha Styles for you on line 1."
"Put her through," I answer with a grin. Between the steady work and her support in taking a break away from the office, Tabitha is quickly becoming more than just my favorite client. Could she possibly be another…friend?
"Tabitha!" I greet her warmly. "How is shooting going? Do you miss me already?"
"What would it take to trigger Yong-rae's termination clause?" she asks in a clipped tone.
"Uh," I sputter, trying to quickly shift into professional mode. "Do you mean what would constitute as cause?"
"Yeah," she confirms. "Like, could we get rid of him if he takes more than ten takes? Or if I say his terrible acting is literally stinking up the entire set?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose, utterly taken aback by her request.
"Get—get rid of him?" I croak before clearing my throat. "I've seen the dailies, Tabitha. You do not want to get rid of Yong-rae. What happened?"
Her long-suffering sigh hits me as if she were sitting in my office chair.
"He's insisting I use Clara for the drowning scene, even though I already confirmed with Edward that I'd be doing it myself."
"The drowning scene?" I ask, sitting up straighter. "Uh, I'm with Yong-rae. Why wouldn't your stunt double handle a scene where bodily injury is a risk?"
"Bodily injury?" she scoffs. "Come on, Awa. I've done my own stunts plenty of times. Remember the rappelling in 'High-rise'? Or the hang gliding in 'Before the Break'? This isn't any worse than those."
I shake my head.
"Yes, I remember all of those because they were liability nightmares and took literal years off my life. I really think you should let Clara do her job this time."
"And I think you and Yong-rae should let me do my job, which is to bring the gravitas required to a pivotal scene. Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio did her own takes in 'The Abyss'; it's one of the reasons the drowning scene was so powerful."
"It's also one of the reasons there are way more protections for actors on set," I counter. "She was traumatized during filming."
"Well," she sniffs, "I won't be traumatized. And I won't give my most impactful scene to a stunt double. So either you get down here and make it happen, or I exercise my exit clause and leave this set."
She hangs up before I can reply, but I still bang the phone down.
God dammit! I'm gone for one week and things are already off the rails again? "Forced Proximity" is starting to feel cursed.
I grab my purse, tell Elle to forward all calls to my cell, and head back to Jersey.
"Step aside," Tabitha demands as she tries to climb up the ladder into the water tank.
"I will not," Yong-rae yells back. "You should not be putting yourself in danger. It's completely unnecessary!"
"Says the guy on his first big role. What the hell would you know about what's necessary and what's not? Edward thinks it's a great idea!"
"Awa," Noah calls out from a few feet away once he sees me. "A word?"
He wears a frustrated frown in lieu of his usual smile.
"Can't you talk to her? Yong-rae is right; Clara could do the drowning part, and Tabitha can come in for the CPR and dialogue."
"It's funny that you think I'd defer to your client about what to do in this situation when mine has made her opinion clear. There might be a greater risk, but when it comes to acting, Tabitha knows what she's doing."
Noah looks around, then lowers his voice so we aren't overheard.
"If this is about method acting, Kenny said submerging her in the freezing water before each take would put her body into the same state as if she'd actually done the drowning stunt."
"If he's telling you it would be the same if they submerge me, don't believe that shit!" Tabitha yells from where she stands next to the tank with her arms folded.
"Shit," Noah curses under his breath.
I know the feeling. I spent half the car ride out trying to get Tabitha to change her mind, and the other half reviewing the liability policy with Pinnacle's counsel to ensure they're covered.
Tabitha's done stunts before, and all of her contracts include a clause that states they're at her discretion.
It doesn't mean I don't dread whenever she uses it.
I square my shoulders, pushing down my body's reaction to his nearness.
"If you need to talk with Yong-rae, now's the time, because like it or not, Tabitha is doing the full scene."
Noah clenches his jaw but nods, stalking off to Yong-rae.
They speak in hushed tones while Yong-rae sneaks glances at Tabitha.
He's obviously worried about her—I am too—but if they're really serious about one another, or plan to be, he can't let his worry get in the way of her career.
She's experienced enough to make her own choices.
Even if those choices occasionally make my palms sweat.
When Noah and Yong-rae finish talking, Yong-rae looks miserable but resigned.
Kenny and Edward discuss logistics now that Clara's out.
If he can, Edward wants to do one continuous shot, which means Tabitha will struggle in the water for several minutes, go limp, then Yong-rae will drag her ashore for CPR.
Stunts with water are especially dangerous, but I remind myself that Tabitha is dive certified and actually swam competitively through college. She can do this.
Tabitha climbs the ladder, Edward starts rolling, and she steps off the artificial ice into the water.
"I didn't expect to see you today," Noah says when Edward yells cut the final time. Neither of us got much work done, too focused on keeping everyone safe and negotiating a peace between costars who are back to butting heads.
"I didn't expect to be here," I admit, closing my laptop and sliding it into my briefcase. "But when Tabitha calls, I come."
Noah holds my suit jacket open. After a moment's hesitation, I step into it.
"I was hoping the next time we saw each other would be a little more…fun." His face is right by my ear; close enough to feel the innuendo against my skin. A quarter turn and our lips would touch. I quickly move out of reach.
"It was fun for me," I respond with a smirk. "Or did you think I'd go easy on you just because—"
"Of course not," he says, sounding almost offended. He takes my hand but drops it when he remembers we're in public. "It's just that…all that texting. We had plans."
My eyes dart left and right, checking to see if anyone saw his display of affection. Once I'm confident the coast is clear, I give him a sly grin.
"Oh, I'm very aware of our plans. Your texts were quite…descriptive."
"I think you mean 'hot'. They got you hot and bothered, and now all you want to do is come home with me to act them out. Maybe twice."
I bite my lip to contain my laugh.
"I don't know, Noah," I reply saucily. "If we're back together on set, maybe it's better if last time was the only time. We wouldn't want to get caught."
Who am I right now? Awa Faye doesn't tease. Certainly not when she's on the clock. Something about Noah brings it out of me, and from the harsh flare of his nostrils, he likes it. He also knows I'm bluffing; one time together was nowhere near enough.
"Are you sure about that?" he asks, his voice low and rough like whiskey. "Or am I going to reach into those sexy panties of yours and find you wet for me right now?"
He smirks in triumph when a gasp escapes my lips.
"That's what I thought. It was a long day, and we were at odds for most of it." He inhales deeply, as if he's savoring my scent. "I need to see you tonight. It felt like you fucked me and then completely disappeared."
I ignore the hypocrisy in his statement because, dammit! I need to see him, too. Our bickering did nothing to decrease my desire for him. It may have increased it, judging by the growing dampness between my legs.
"If I recall, you were the one who fucked me," I taunt. My boldness sends him into a coughing fit, which only makes me grin.
"So what are we waiting for?" he asks when he can finally speak.
"Let's get out of here before some other emergency pops up.
We'll make everywhere else a neutral zone.
No work talk. No calls or texts or emails.
Just two people, with their phones on silent, using each other to unwind after a hard day. "
I raise an eyebrow.
"With our phones on silent?"
He nods.
"Otherwise, we'll never sync up again." He looks me directly in the eyes, a fire burning there. "And I really want to hang out again."
I drop my eyes to hide my reaction to him. Noah saying he wants to spend time together, with our history, is bound to cause some flutters in my chest. I force them down, beside the memories of all the men who left as soon as feelings were involved.
Noah's not offering forever; just "for a while". For the duration of the shoot, or until this thing between us fizzles out. I honestly don't know if I can handle it, but I clearly can't avoid it.
"My driver is outside."