Chapter Two #3
But I’ve already peeked at the salary and while it’s a fair amount of money…
25 percent larger is hard to ignore. I’ll need every penny I can get if I’m going to move out of Dad’s and make it in New York.
Especially if I want to make a real go of it with publishing, which will probably mean an unpaid internship just to get my foot in the door.
For some reason, my stomach dips at the thought—probably because it’s so much to take in at once—but I don’t have long to dwell because James doesn’t see it that way, of course, if his face is any indication.
I’m sure he’s swimming in cash from the success of his movie and years of doing stage roles on increasingly larger stages.
He’s probably got a savings account and good credit, the jerk.
But he owes me, whether for saving his butt and being Juliet or for nearly murdering me on the lawn a while ago is up to him, but James Freakin’ Neely owes me a big, giant Disney-Channel-Original-Movie-sized favor, and he knows it.
We’re mutually staring, now, and I’m not sure when it happened, but James has dropped his mask. He looks wary and a little pained when I widen my eyes at him.
Please, I mouth across the table.
James considers me for a long moment.
Please don’t, he mouths back. And there is such sincerity in his eyes, such despair, I’m almost willing to concede.
Catarina, seeing our silent conversation, breaks in. “Truthfully, I think you ought to consider it. There is a lot riding on this project, and there would likely be some form of promo anyway. You might as well put in a little extra effort for a lot more reward.”
I hate that there is a knowingness in James’s eyes. I hate that looking at him feels like laying myself open, the world’s shortest, most boring book. Nobody’s favorite or least favorite. A novella. A short story with no anthology.
But James Freakin’ Neely is looking at me long enough that I wonder if he —by character osmosis or actor privilege or something—has the ability to really peek into my mind.
My cheeks warm, but I refuse to drop his gaze.
Whatever he finds, it’s enough to make him nod shallowly at me before closing his eyes and turning to Catarina.
“We’ll do it,” he tells her. “We’ll do the social media component.”
We.
The moment broken, I smile at him and let some smugness shine through when I say, “Everyone has problems, James.”
He slumps back into his chair, and I wonder if this is the first time that James Neely has found himself in a timeline other than the one he expected.
He doesn’t stare at me anymore after that.
Or maybe he does, but I keep all my attention downward as Catarina launches into the next phase of the meeting, detailing the project timeline—eight weeks start to finish to complete all four books—and how she plans to juggle being there for James and me as well as the rest of the cast who will be working remotely.
“Now, Juniper obviously has the most work of anyone as she is also the narrator. Followed closely by you, James, in terms of number of lines.”
James flits his eyes to mine and then away again like my gaze has burned him.
“Most of the time you will be in separate booths, but should you wish to record scenes together—either for the sake of your vocal performance or for social media footage—just let me know a few hours in advance and I’ll make sure a space is set up appropriately,” Catarina says.
“And Juniper, if you wish to perform with any werewolves or other vampires, just say the word and I can try to set up something digitally. That proves more difficult from a recording perspective, but sometimes just talking to the other actors to get a sense of their cadence can be helpful if you’re stuck. ”
“Why aren’t the others here?” I ask. “Why is it just us?”
“Expense, mostly,” Catarina says. “We catered to James on this one and since this is the area he chose to work from, we looked for an Arabella nearby—or someone who would be willing to relocate for eight weeks—to accommodate.” Catarina leans over to pat James on the shoulder like a proud mother.
“The producers were so happy to get him for the role after his recent box-office success, I think they would have agreed to the North Pole if that was what he wanted. Plus, there’s the added bonus of—”
“—that one scene having been filmed here?” I finish for her.
“Precisely.” Catarina smiles.
James’s smile is irritatingly genuine when he looks at Catarina.
“It was kind of everyone to accommodate me,” he says.
“Well, it worked out, wouldn’t you say? The perfect Arabella already here ?
It must be fate.” She clasps her hands together.
“That being said, I’ve noted a few spots in the script that might be best recorded together to get the back-and-forth right, notably the love and sex scenes and some high-conflict moments. ”
The star I’m drawing accidentally turns into a meteor when Catarina says sex scenes and my hand jerks to the right.
I can’t bring myself to look at James or Catarina or even the Keurig in the corner. The coffee pods are probably hardcore judging my inability to act like a normal adult. You would think at the tender age of thirty-two I would be cool and suave about anything related to sex, but…Um. No.
I’m not a virgin. I mean, I’ve had sex…sort of.
There was a guy from work that I saw for three months and we would “fool around,” as he called it, in his apartment.
But the few times we were together, I always left feeling empty and numb.
Maybe that’s even too strong a word, numb, but it certainly wasn’t the ecstasy books had been promising me for years.
You just need to loosen up, he’d tell me after. You’re thinking too much. Your rhythm is off because you’re so rigid.
At least my shitty timing is consistent across disciplines.
James and Catarina are both looking at me now. I’ve missed something while trying to de-red my cheeks after thinking about sex scenes—about recording sex scenes—with James Neely.
This morning, I thought the white button-down I chose was chic and professional while still being casual, but now I’m wondering why I chose something with a collar that clearly has homicidal intentions. I swear it’s tightening around my neck.
“Sorry?” I say, pulling at my neckline. “Can you repeat that last part?”
Catarina’s smile is kind.
“Just checking to make sure you didn’t have any questions.
James said he has to run for an appointment, so I think we’ll leave it here for now.
Look over those contracts, and let’s have them signed and back next week if everything looks agreeable, yes?
That way we can get an official recording start date on the calendar for the following week and you two can start to plan out the social media posts. ”
Now James and I are both frowning, though I suspect his is because of her mention of social media and mine is definitely because of contracts.
I thought for sure we would have a conversation alone, James and me, but as soon as we do that awkward thing of shaking hands around the table as a goodbye and Catarina gushes again about how excited she is for the project, James takes off.
“Busy guy,” Catarina tells me as we walk toward the parking lot together.
She just mentioned she has to leave to pick up her daughter from swim practice.
“We’re incredibly lucky he agreed to the project.
We really thought it was a long shot with how sought-after he must be, thanks to his big Hollywood success.
But I guess we caught him at just the right time. ”
“Yeah,” I say dumbly. “Lucky.”
If Catarina notices I’m shell-shocked from the meeting and the rapidness of James’s exit, she doesn’t comment on it.
“I’m especially happy you got him to agree to the social media component,” she continues cheerfully. “I was sure he was going to turn it down. He seems like a pretty private guy, but especially after all the hullabaloo with Lily Newman-Smith.”
We’re nearly to our cars now. You can almost see my open mouth in the reflection of my Kia.
It’s impossible to just call her Lily when you’ve heard her name in its entirety since you were a teenager.
Lily Newman-Smith is Lily Newman-Smith. There are triple threats, and then there’s Lily, a veritable nuclear weapon of talent.
Nobody thought a girl starring on a kids’ after-school show with a budget of zero dollars would become a powerhouse, but she did.
There was a big upset last year because everyone thought she was going to win an Oscar for best supporting actress, but she was robbed, or so says the Internet. An Academy Award would have made her the youngest EGOT winner by nearly five years.
“What does Lily Newman-Smith have to do with James?” I ask Catarina.
She looks at me like she’s surprised.
“Not to be a gossip,” she says, “but it’s hardly news when it was all over the tabloids. It was heavily rumored that they were dating around the holidays last year. My understanding is the paparazzi got pretty wild about it. No matter where that poor man went, they found him and photographed him.”
It occurs to me just now in this moment that I have not googled James Neely since the magic headphone incident.
Maybe I should.
“That sucks,” I tell Catarina honestly, because it does.
“I know,” she says. “I’m hoping this project is good for him, recentering, you know? Isn’t that the point of The Meadow ? There’s always a choice, always a chance to make things different and hopefully better for yourself.”
I feel more myself out in the sun, so I hope my smile at Catarina looks as genuine as it feels as we wave goodbye.
“If I haven’t mentioned it, thanks for choosing me to be Arabella,” I tell her.
Catarina is already getting into her car and throwing her purse into the passenger seat.
“Of course,” she says. “You’re the perfect fit.”
She gives another little wave and ducks her head into the car as I climb into mine. Catarina beeps her car horn at me as she pulls beside me and motions for me to roll down my window.
“Do you want to know something funny?” she says, moving her sunglasses to the bridge of her nose. “We were originally supposed to set up camp in Dallas. Didn’t you say that’s where you’re from? Texas?”
I nod, not quite understanding.
“We were all set to record there. I had an apartment rented and everything, summer activities booked for my kid, but at the last minute, something with the original studio fell through and now—” She lifts her hands up from the wheel and sets them back down again.
“—we’re here! And you’re here! And James is here! Isn’t that ironic?”
A cloud passes over the bright sun, and I’m able to fully smile at her without squinting when I answer, “Ironic, yeah.”
“Right place, right time!” She grins. Another car beeps at her from behind and she waves at me once more. “I’ve got a good feeling about this, Juniper!”