Page 19 of The Actor: Harrison

“The salad is vegan,” he says and I can’t tell if he’s serious or mocking me.

“I know. Besides the salad, I mean,” I say through my teeth.

“I have to speak with the production. I’ll let you know.” He dismisses me and turns around to go back to his business.

This is the first time in my life that I gotI-will-let-you-knowed by someone over salad and a freaking meal.

I grab my plate and turn around, not bothering to say bye to the girl behind the counter, and avoid the table where some of my colleagues are eating. When I reach my trailer, I slam the door shut behind me and open one of the cabinets where I keep my snacks. I find the last packet of rice cakes. I sigh and sit down to my sad portrait of a lunch.

“Mr. Bland, I introduce you to Miss Bland,” I murmur opening the package and using the crunchy rice to help me scoop up a bite of the greenery.

I’m halfway through my second bite when the door of my trailer flies open and a very angry Sienna stomps in. I can’t deal with her right now, not when I’m already eating a fucking salad for lunch.

“Can I have a bit of privacy?” I ask, annoyed. She can’t barge in without knocking, I’m not her freaking kid.

“I want an actor that doesn’t act like a diva, but I guess we don’t always get what we want, do we?” she retorts, crossing her arms over her chest. She looks like the goody-two-shoes scolding the rebel in her group. Cute, if she wasn’t my own personal nightmare at the moment.

“What the hell is your problem?” I bark. Being already nervous doesn’t help to keep my temper at bay. I have limits too and she is pushing all my buttons.

“My problem?” she scoffs.

“Yes, your problem,” I hiss angrily.

“My problem is that I’m already on a tight budget and I have to work with a diva that wants to eat vegan.”

I feel the anger rising in my chest. “Unfuckingbelievable!” I shout, unable to keep my voice low. “It’s my third day of eating a freaking salad and I barely make it through the afternoon because I’m hungry, but it’s my fault? I asked for a meal, not a banquet laid out in front of me. One. Fucking. Meal!”

“Congratulations! The salad is vegan!” she shouts back. “Do you know how much it costs to add a vegan menu at the catering company? Do you have any idea or are so used to gigantic productions that you completely forget how is to work in smaller projects? I have news for you, sweetheart. Here, everyone does their part. If I give you a vegan menu, I have to fire someone to cut costs.” She is so angry her face is tomato red and the blood vessels bulge on her neck.

Accusing me of not caring about the people I work with, demanding special treatment, is a low blow. It hits me in the gut and it hurts.

“You know what? The problem is, you’re an inexperienced director playing with a bigger production. You don’t know how to deal with me or any of the people working here. I bet when the guy told you that adding a vegan menu meant revising the contract to cover the extra cost, you shit your pants. But guess what? I asked forone meal, for one person. Send one of your production assistants to buy a vegan meal within walking distance from here. It’s not rocket science!” If she is playing the hurting people game, I can play too.

I see the anger simmering on her face. I used her own insecurities against her and I don’t regret it. She came here accusing me of being a diva without making any effort to ask anything about me. I’m tired of being pushed around by someone who clearly has some prejudice about me. She’s never even tried to understand my reasoning. She comes here shouting and accusing and never listening. I’m freaking tired.

“We all know you eat chicken! We all saw you eating it. Today it was the chicken, but guess what? You demanded a vegan meal. You are not vegan! You are a spoiled movie star used to having everything served on a silver platter. You have a diva complex. You thrived for years in this sick Hollywood industry where they praise men like you and make women suck dick to have a fair chance at working. News flash, sweetheart. Not. On. My. Set.”

So this is her problem with me. She thinks I had everything thrown at me without working for it. She’s right, in part. I had an easier life than a woman, I can’t deny that. But I’m not a spoiled brat who takes everything for granted. I didn’t use my position as a white male to take what wasn’t mine to have.

I turned down a lot of parts where they tried to whitewash the movie using my face to attract my fans. And I turned down a lot of brands when they asked me to be an influencer when the role would have been better filled by a woman. I never stole anything from anyone, and the only parts I accepted were ones I was sure I would do well on. I’ve always taken these things very seriously and I worked hard for every single part I got. I never left anything to chance, demanding a role I wasn’t ready to play fully.

The anger simmers inside me, because she doesn’t know me. Worst, she doesn’twantto know me and I’m done trying to play nice.

“You want me to play the diva? Congratulations! You just used my lunch break to yell at me and now I have to finish eating before coming to the set, so I will be late. And I won’t be on set tomorrow unless you guarantee I have a decent meal. I got your diva complex right here.”

She says nothing, she just turns around and furiously slams the door behind her. I let out a low sigh, grab my salad and throw it away. My appetite and my concentration are gone for this afternoon’s shoot.

A soft knock on the door makes me want to crawl out of the window and disappear from this set entirely. I don’t want to see anyone right now.

“I’m coming, just give me a minute,” I answer without much conviction.

“It’s Viola, can I come in?” Her voice is soft, not the usual chirpy tone.

What can I say? No? Go away because I don’t want to see anyone?

“Come in,” I finally say.

She steps into the trailer and lingers a long moment before closing the door. She studies me with her sweet green eyes and then walks toward me, sitting on the other side of the table and giving me the space I need.

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