Chapter Thirty-Four #2
Once all the plates are cleared, Michelle is the first to depart.
She cites an early morning and waves off the protests that she stay and have another.
Tom goes not long after she does, and I hate how disappointed I am to see them both go.
They might know my name now, but I barely got to speak to either of them. Some first impression.
This begins a game of musical chairs. Chris has to take a call, so he steps out; John takes his seat and starts talking to Oliver in a low voice. Rebecca turns to me and plops an elbow on the table with a loud thud. Her eyes are glassy.
“So, having fun?” she asks quietly.
I sneak a glance at Oliver, Damian, and John to make sure they’re not listening to us. “I wouldn’t say fun is the right word, but I’m here.”
“It’s stressful, right?” she whispers. “Being the new person, I mean.”
“So stressful.” I blow out a breath.
“I think I’m gonna go.” The way she says it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself it’s a good idea. “Chris talked to me about the next thing he’s thinking about doing and made it abundantly clear hiring me for it depends on how well Lineage does. I think I’ve hit my limit.”
“Okay, well, thanks again. For everything. Text me when you get home?”
She nods as she stands. Without her next to me, I feel even more uncertain of myself than I did in the days leading up to this dinner. I hadn’t realized how much of a comfort her presence was—my old college friend, whose opinion mattered enough that I got this job.
While she says her goodbyes, I sneak away from the table and head for the bathroom. I don’t even need to pee; I just need time to collect myself, to turn it off while I swipe some lip gloss on and breathe.
When I exit the restroom a few minutes later, Damian is there, either going in or coming from the men’s room. The little alcove is semidark but I can still tell he’s surprised to see me. His eyes widen for a second before they narrow, his expression suddenly thoughtful, maybe even calculating.
“Celia, hey. I wanted to ask you something.”
My heart slams into my chest. I aim for pleasantly curious and wind up with a small smile and lifted brows. I might just look deranged. I don’t know. “Oh? What’s up?”
“Is there… something going on? Between you and Oliver?”
My stomach bottoms out. It’s a bold question that comes out in a bold voice. I know he’s at least a little drunk because I saw how much wine he consumed at dinner, but I don’t know if he’s asking this because he’s trying to protect the show, or for something more nefarious.
No funny business—Rebecca’s words from earlier ring out in my ears.
“Oh! No. Not at all.” The lie slips out of me at a fast clip.
Almost manic. I try to save face by forcing a bigger smile.
“I mean, we’re close after living under the same roof for weeks, but that’s it.
Just creative partners for this. And former roommates,” I add with a laugh that sounds a little like I’m choking.
He folds his arms over his chest. “So you work alone, too.”
It’s not a question, but I still answer. “Yes.”
“Are you familiar with the works of Debra Cain?” he asks.
Of course I’ve heard of Debra Cain; everyone who is even the tiniest bit media savvy knows her for her soapy network drama that is well into its tenth or eleventh season.
She’s also written and produced a handful of movies, most of which are critical indie darlings.
As a Black woman in film and television with a strong tenure, Debra is a true glass-ceiling breaker, and someone whose work I admire deeply.
“Who isn’t?” I ask in response to this conversational pivot.
“Fair enough. Well, the reason I’m asking is I was talking to your creative partner earlier, and he reminded me that both Dahlia’s theme and the percussion parts were all you.” He tilts his head. “Is that true?”
Inside me there are two wolves: one who is grateful that Oliver gave me credit, and one who feels like shit for denying he’s more to me than a former roommate. Damian can’t know any of this, so I simply nod and say, “Yeah, that’s true.”
“I’m producing her next movie. It’s a Limelight original.
When I heard that sound for Lineage, I thought—Debra would love this, so I sent it to her and she gushed.
Really, just raved about it. We can’t afford the both of you, but we can afford one.
Would you be interested in reading the script?
Seeing if it’s something you’d want to work on? ”
That funny feeling comes over me, just like it did back at the restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen.
A chill—as reassuring as it is unnerving—spreads over me as I realize: This is it, again.
The reason I came to this dinner, the reason I’ve worked my ass off for so long, the reason I needed Damian to see me as an artist, independent of Oliver…
it was for this. To work with Debra Cain, a force and a trailblazer in her own right.
“I’d love to read it.” Somehow, the words come out normally.
“Perfect. I’ll send it over this weekend. Let me know when you’re done with it. If you’re interested, I’ll set up a call with you, me, and Deb to talk vision.”
“Sounds great. I appreciate you thinking of me, Damian.”
His free hand pats my shoulder in a friendly pseudo-hug. “Good to see you, Celia. Glad you were able to join us tonight.”
Damian disappears into the restroom just as Oliver exits. There’s no time for me to celebrate this professional development—a meeting with Debra fucking Cain—because there he is. The man I just denied any feelings for. And boy, he is pissed.
FROM: Dr. David Kendrick
TO: Celia García
DATE: Wednesday, May 10 at 3:26 PM
SUBJECT: Congrats
Hi Celia,
Before the semester gets away from me completely, I wanted to personally congratulate you on your time here at Juilliard. You are a remarkable student. It’s been such a pleasure to watch you grow, both as a musician and a person.
I know you were disappointed that you didn’t get the internships with Boston or the New York Philharmonic, but I know you are in great hands with Gio at the Eastern Symphony.
He and I overlapped at Oberlin and have kept in touch over the years.
You’ll get a lot of hands-on time with the ensembles there and Gio has a bold vision for contemporary classical. He’ll take great care of you.
I look forward to following your career. Please don’t hesitate to get in touch if I can ever be of assistance in the future. I plan to retire here, which is still many years away, so you know where to find me.
Best,
Dr. K