Page 27 of I Did Something Bad
In a way, it was nice that the past six hours had been nonstop chaos. I didn’t have time to catch up with Tyler, who, as one of the stars and executive producers, had had exactly two ten-minute toilet breaks.
And, as though the pressure of a police investigation weren’t enough, my inbox had also been graced with yet another email from Clarissa, this one informing me that she was in NYC and had just had lunch with “Radhika and Samira” (after a hasty Google search, I’ve assumed she’s referring to Radhika Jones and Samira Nasr, the current US editors in chief ofVanity FairandHarper’s Bazaar,respectively) both of whom had been “salivating with envy” at the story, yet “a little surprised” that she’d assigned the piece to a “new” freelancer, but she had assured them that there was nothing “new” about the way I worked. Translation:This is your regularly scheduled reminder that my ass is on the line here, so do not fuck this up. The silver lining was that she didn’t mention anything about the police, which must mean she doesn’t know. The fewer people that know, the fewer lies I need to juggle, the better. It was also the kick I needed to remember that I’m not going to get a do-over on this story. I don’t get the same day of shooting twice, so I’d lowered my head, shut out the noise, and focused like the impeccable journalist I was—am.
And for the rest of the (very long) day, it felt like that was the only reason we were there: Tyler, to film this movie, and me, to write about it. No murder, no elaborate matching cover stories, no nothing.
And now, I’m slouched against the front of his trailer while waiting for him to change out of his costume when I see May leaving her trailer. She’s also changed back into the black linen romper in which she arrived this morning. I wave in a “catch you tomorrow” gesture, but, upon seeing me, she grins, puts up her hand, and bounces over.
“Hey! Where’s Ty?” she asks.
I nod at the vehicle behind me. “Still changing. Great shoot today, by the way!” I say, only then realizing that I don’t quite know all the technical filming terms yet. “You were fantastic! And that scene where you cut up your dress to crawl through the vents! You got it in one take!”
She laughs as she pulls her hair up into a high ponytail with a chic black velvet scrunchie. “That was a fun bit. Speaking of fun, today was a long one. Wanna join us for drinks?”
“Oh, were you guys going to—”
Just then, the trailer door opens, and Tyler steps down. He does a short double take at the sight of May. “I thought you’d be gone by now,” he says, joining us so we’re standing in a small triangle.
“I was inviting Khin to drinks with us!” May beams.
Tyler’s brows pinch. “We were getting drinks?”
“Ty, it’s like you read my mind!” May’s bottom lip juts out, and she slings one arm around his shoulder. “I’dloveto get drinks with you! And I bet Khin would love to join us, too. We can go back to mine! I’ll make you an old-fashioned. Ty loves my old-fashioneds,” she explains to me. “What’s your favorite drink? My bartending skills are my secret superpower.”
“I—” I start, but don’t know how to finish. On the one hand, I would love to get drinks with May Diamond (and god knows I need a strong one tonight). On the other, I need to regroup with Tyler vis-à-vis the investigation.
Under her arm, Tyler’s shoulders shake with a short chuckle. “Can we take a rain check?”
May’s face scrunches into a pout, and when Tyler doesn’t relent after a beat, tweaks into a half-confused, half-annoyed expression. “Come oooon, I want to catch up after these wild first two days! A potential murderanda police investigation to kick off this movie? We need to talk about how we’re going to get rid of these bad vibes. Maybe we can go burn some sage.”
“I’m just exhausted today,” Tyler says with an apologetic shrug. “You know how I am with jet lag. I’m sorry. Next week? I promise I’ll get so wasted, I’ll fall asleep in the middle of the hallway again.”
May retrieves her arm and folds it over the other into a stubbornX,lips now pursed to one side. “Fine,” she mutters. “Khin? Wanna have a girls’ night?”
“Sorry.” I grimace. “I need to type up my notes.”
May rolls her eyes and gives a dramatic sigh. “Fine, fine, you people go home and be responsible andsleepandtype up notes. I’ll see you both tomorrow,” she says and flashes us a lackluster peace sign before whirling away.
“Ireallylike her,” I say under a stifled laugh.
When I look over, Tyler’s smiling and shaking his head at her receding figure. “Me too,” he says.
We don’t quite make the quick getaway I was hoping for. Tyler’s accosted a couple of times to sign some more autographs, record a few more “Happy birthday” and “Happy anniversary” videos, and (of course) he obliges.
Half an hour later, though, we’re alone in the car and on the way back to my place, and the reality of our predicament swallows me whole once more.
“I think I did okay back there. You?” His voice slices through my jumble of thoughts.
“What?” I ask, blinking.
“The police. They didn’t ask me anything difficult. Just routine stuff. How about you?”
“Good. I think I did pretty okay, too,” I say, and he nods.
I don’t know where we go from here. I do know that more information is going to come out eventually. Maybe it already has. Maybe while Tyler and May were securing the diplomats’ residence for the eighth time, somebody has figured out who that man is. Maybe they’ve found and cracked his phone, and now they’re triangulating cell tower histories of every crew member and—oh man, Idoneed to cool it with theSVU.
“You know what’s weird?” My question pierces the quietness.
From his position where his back is sunk deep into the seat, shoulders actually slouched for the first time since we met, Tyler turns his head. Even with a full face of makeup, he looksexhausted. It’s the mouth, I realize. People are always going on about how the eyes are the windows to the soul, but with Tyler, his mouth gives everything away. Right now, it’s sagging at the corners, lips chapped after hours of wiping and reapplying light lipstick. “What?” he asks.
