Page 59 of Steamy on Set

So what she thought would have happened was a possibility. Maybe it wouldn’t have been the case if she hadn’t spent months lying to people. The fact that nothing is going to come of her betrayal seems to bother him as much as it does me. His mouth is pulled into a frown, and I can’t help but stare at it.

Instead of thinking about the fact that he is upset, my mind trails back to what happened a few moments ago. Catching my look of unrestrained want, he licks his lips in a way that is almost too much for me to bear. Just then, the first cab pulls up and he opens the door for me. I step into it, looking back at him one more time. I want to ask him to come home with me, guide him back to my room, and finish what we started on the dance floor. But I think better and instead close the door, shutting out the opportunity.

Chapter 21

Twomonthsintofilming,and the set is a lot warmer than it was when I started. Word has spread that I got Tiffany reassigned, so some crew members give me the cold shoulder when they see me, but the people I have seen most nights have developed a different opinion. Still, I hide out in my trailer most days, trying not to let them get to me. The only one who does is Mira.

Standing silently in a room with her while she pins some pants on me, I still don’t have the words to get us to a point of cordiality. I don’t even know if I want to, or if we even can.

“All done.” She scoots back and directs for me to take the pants off. I slide out of them and move to put my skirt back on. Oncedressed, I have no reason to stay, but I do, waiting for her to look at me.

“Mira,” I start, but then I stop unsure of what to say.

She turns towards me, her lips pulling down.

“Farrah, don’t. I thought I made myself clear. I don’t think we should be friends.”

The statement is so final, it echoes through the room like a gavel hitting the block. I’m silenced. She doesn’t look sad by this, or even relieved. If anything, she looks just as mad as when I left her. My chest constricts at the tearing of another thing from my heart. I press my palm there and nod, thinking this is going to be the end of it. Just as I reach the door, she calls out to me.

“You know you’re still doing it.”

I look over my shoulder and pause while she elaborates.

“I see the way he looks at you. Errol, that is. I wanted him, but once again he wants you.”

There are so many ways I can argue this, but only one thing comes out of my mouth.

“He doesn’t date staff.”

“You’re missing the point.”

Tired of arguing with the people, I leave it at that and walk out.

Just as I get control of myself in my trailer and sit down on the couch, there is a knock.

“Come in,” I yell. The door cracks open and in walks Errol. His face is drawn tight, his shoulders rigid, and he’s walking like the floor is going to fall out from underneath him.

“What’s wrong?”

He makes his way over to me. Lifting my feet to make room for himself, he slumps at the end of the couch and places them on his lap.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“No.” His voice is pulled thin, like a string on its last tether.

“What happened?” I sit up, sliding my knees underneath me and scooting to kneel next to him.

“I can’t get the scene between Dante and his father to play out the way it does in my head. We have done it over and over again, and it’s not ringing as powerful as it should.” He slides his hands up and down his face. “It’s not the actors, they’re bringing the right emotions, but it’s like the words aren’t right, or the pacing is off. I don’t know, I can’t pin point it, and that is what I’m supposed to do. It is literally my job.”

Taking one of his hands into mine, I squeeze it, trying to channel some reassurance through the touch. When he looks over at me, I can see all the self doubt circulating in his eyes.

“Hey,” I say, rubbing his hand in between mine. “You’re not the problem. Whatever is stopping this from working, we will figure out. Rewatch the clips and see if you can catch it on screen instead of in person. I can come over tonight and we can workshop the script and see if there’s a different way to approach this conversation. You are not failing.”

His shoulders ease a little at my words as he lays his head back against the top of the couch.

“I know it makes no sense. I know it doesn’t. But I feel like if every movie I make isn’t a booming success, it’s going to tank my career.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You are too hard on yourself. One failure is not going to be the end of it. Not to even say this is a failure. You have a good script, a good team and good actors. It’s going to come together in the end.” I move my free hand up to rub his shoulder, trying to work out the stress holding them tight. “Plus, it can’t fail. I can’t havemy acting debut be a total disaster.” I give him a wink, and his body shakes with laughter.

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