23. Chapter 23
Presley
It’s the first day on the set of Cosmic Fury , it’s hotter than hell, and I’m in full costume, which is stifling futuristic armor and tactical gear, and a blonde wig—the thing that’s causing the most discomfort in this heat—braided tightly away from my face. I stand in front of a fan—they have a bunch around to help stave off the heat—lifting the heavy hair off my neck to try to cool off because I can’t stop sweating.
I’m having a hard time remembering why I like this job as I’ve sat for two hours in makeup (in an air-conditioned trailer, thank goodness), where they added dirt and scratches to my face and arms, making it look like I’ve been through countless battles when I haven’t yet even been through one.
The crew is bustling around, setting up cameras and adjusting the lighting to capture the next shot. Massive rigs and cranes hoist the cameras high above us, with some below, making sure they get every possible angle .
I never know how a movie will turn out until I get to see it from start to finish—since we film scenes out of order, and today we’re at the midway point, about to canoe our way through the swamps of the fictional planet of Ayrndor (which right now is Ocala National Forest, with its crystal-blue water and cypress trees draped with Spanish moss) to sneak attack the Syndarians. Very little will need to be done in postproduction to transform this setting into an alien world teeming with danger and intrigue; it’s pretty perfect looking as is. It would be even more stunning if it didn’t feel like a sauna.
The director, Jason Orson, likes to film things in realistic settings more than on sound stages, and luckily the United States is full of places that can be manipulated to look otherworldly.
I usually love working with directors like this, getting to be out in nature and seeing places I might not otherwise. But today, with the possibility of getting eaten by an alligator in these spring waters, and with sweat dripping down my back, I’m not loving it.
I am, however, in the same state as Briggs. Even if he’s a couple hundred miles and a quick ferry ride away from me. And for some reason, that gives me comfort. I still haven’t told him about Betty, who’s actually Deborah. I’ve picked up my phone countless times, and drafted more texts, and nothing is right. He needs to know, though. I need to tell him .
“All departments, prepare for a take. Actors to their marks, please,” the first assistant director, a guy named Brock, says through a bullhorn.
I walk away from the fan and miss its cooling effect almost immediately. Approaching the director, I find him discussing the scene with Landon West, who’s dressed in similar garb to mine.
“Okay, Presley,” he says when he sees me approach. “You and Landon are going to film your scene right here.” He points to a spot of land near the water. “Your teams will be waiting in the water on the canoes. You’ll say the line, do the kiss, and then you’ll jump into the canoes afterward. Got it?”
That’s right, the first scene we’re filming for Cosmic Fury is the one Briggs and I practiced all those nights ago. I honestly thought the universe was playing a prank on me when I saw it on the call sheet. As if Briggs Dalton isn’t on my mind enough already.
“Yeah,” I say, nodding my head, the wig feeling heavy and itchy. I’m still not exactly sure I’ll be able to just jump into a canoe, but we did practice it earlier and I think I’ve got it.
“Okay, let’s go, people,” Brock yells through the bullhorn.
I take my spot with Landon and someone from makeup comes over and quickly dabs the sweat off our foreheads. Landon and I are standing across from each other, our crew of misfit aliens in full costume in the canoes on the water just behind him .
Jason approaches us. “Presley, I need you to look like you’re frustrated with Falgon in this scene because he doesn’t trust you. And Landon, I want you to really sell your anger that Callis has been tasked with taking on the team over you, okay?” We both nod, and as Jason walks back to the camera, I try to get into character.
All right, Presley, you can do this. You will not think about Briggs and his green eyes and sandy-blond hair and how it felt to run your fingers . . .
Presley James, stop this right now.
“Action,” yells Brock.
I do what he says, quickly taking on the character of Callis. I’m not a lovesick woman—I’m a freaking warrior.
“How dare you disrespect me, Falgon. I’m the leader of this team, and you will do as I say,” I say to Landon, my words curt, my eyes focused on him, my lips pulled into a straight line.
“But what do you even know of the Syndarians, Callis? They will trample all over us with this plan,” Landon says, his voice gruff and nothing like the one Briggs used when he said the line.
Crap. I’m thinking about Briggs again, and now I’ve forgotten my line.
“Cut,” Brock yells.
The script supervisor, a woman named Dawn, comes over to me. “Do you need the line?”
“Just give me a couple of words. ”
Dawn holds the script up in front of her, peering down at it through her glasses. “Listen here, Falgon—”
“Got it,” I say with a nod.
I’ve got to get my head in the game. I will not think about Briggs anymore. I must focus on the task at hand. I am Callis, not Presley. Callis.
“You ready?” Jason asks from behind the camera, and I give him a thumbs-up.
Brock yells action, and we roll again.
“Listen here, Falgon. We don’t need to know anything about the Syndarians. All we need to do is go in there and obliterate them. And if you don’t think I can lead this team, then you can get back on your lunastrider and go back to Arcturus.”
Landon gives me an Oscar-worthy scowl. “I don’t like your ways, Callis.”
“You don’t have to like them; you just have to let me lead.” I take a step forward and put a hand on Landon’s armored chest.
“I need you to trust me, Falgon,” I tell him. “You’re second in command, but the team looks to you before me. If you show them you trust me, then they will also trust me.”
“I want to trust you,” Landon says his line, his tone low, his chest moving up and down. For a second I see Briggs in the armor, looking at me through those black rectangle glasses, pushing them up his nose because he feels uncomfortable .
I miss him so much. Why haven’t I told him that? Why haven’t I called him or gotten on a plane and just gone to him? I’ve been so busy. But also, I’m an idiot—that’s why. A chicken. I need to tell him about Betty/Deborah and apologize for everything. I need to tell him that I think I’m in love with him.
My mind is conjuring up thoughts of Briggs so rapidly, each of them tumbling over the other, that I’m not ready when Landon leans in to do the kiss, his handsome face inches from mine, and I end up taking a step back from him, making him trip a little on his feet.
“Cut,” Brock yells through the bullhorn.
Okay, yes, I need to tell Briggs all those things, but right now I really need to concentrate on this film.
Dawn comes over, and I hold out a hand. “I’ve got it,” I tell her. It’s not even a line—it’s a freaking kiss.
“You ready, Presley?” Jason asks. “Let’s take it from the top, okay?”
I give him a nod and turn back to Landon. Brock yells action , and we go again.
In the end, I finally get fully into my part and we get the scene done in a couple more takes, including the kiss, which made me miss Briggs even more. At least the jumping-into-the- canoe part went better than expected. I also didn’t get eaten by an alligator, and thankfully, didn’t even see one.
I decide, after we finish the scene, that I’m calling Briggs when I get back to my hotel. But by the time we wrap and have dinner, and I’ve showered off my makeup and the sweat and gone over the call sheet for tomorrow, it’s too late, and I commit to calling him in the morning.
Maybe I’m too late anyway. Maybe he won’t want to hear what I have to say. It’s possible I’ve done too much damage—being so certain like I was, and then not reaching out to him in the aftermath—that we might not be able to come back from it.
I have to try, though. Don’t I? I just don’t know what to do, exactly. Send him flowers? That sounds like a stupid idea. If only I could see him in person, then he could see my eyes, see the sincerity in them. But I don’t have time off in the foreseeable future to make a trip to the island. After filming wraps here, we immediately head to the Badlands in South Dakota.
I go to bed feeling frustrated and lost. But when I wake up to a call from the assistant director telling me we’ve had to delay shooting for a day because of some unexpected rainy weather and I have the day off, I know what I’ll be doing.
My assistant, Shani, makes all the arrangements, and before I can really think it through fully, what I’m going to say, how I’m going to feel when I see him, I’m on a plane to Fort Myers. It’s a one-hour flight, and from there a car will take me to the ferry .
I’ll go to the bookstore and if he’s not there, I’ll knock on the door of the princess apartment. I’ll search the entire island until I find him. And then . . . who knows. But I have to try. Briggs might be mad and he may not want to see me. But I have to try, or I’ll regret it. If I don’t, I’ll always wonder what could have been.