Page 29 of Take It Till You Make It
He smiles. “Remi would totally understand. Touch up is part of her job.”
I sigh. “Good, because I keep choking myself by pouring it like that.”
He’s still smiling, but his eyes narrow and he shakes his head. “You are nothing like I thought.”
“What do you mean?”
“You walk around with that dark cloud over you. I thought you were goth or something.”
His words cut straight to my heart, and I feel myself fold inward. I spin the cap back onto my bottle and stomp to the door. “Not goth. Just in mourning.”
I slam through the door and ignore him as he calls my name.
Chapter Twelve
On set,I stand at the kitchen island unloading groceries from the grocery bag. It’s a bit silly because I’m literally taking things out of the bag and setting them on the counter. Whoever unloads groceries like that? But they don’t want me moving around, distracting the viewers’ eye. Mom joins me, and a few minutes later, Christa storms into the kitchen, yelling at Mom, continuing the argument that started in the living room.
I freeze and look at Christa wide-eyed before shrugging and returning to my task. When Christa accuses Mom of unfair treatment, that’s my cue to load up my arms with perishable goods and finally move to the refrigerator to put them away. I’m fighting to keep my head in the moment so I don’t miss my next cue, but Crispin’s cloud comment has me seething inside. Why did I think a few sparks during a photoshoot meant he was no longer a jerk?
“You’re just assuming because you got pregnant at seventeen, I will too,” Christa says.
Mom holds up a hand and says, “Wait a minute, young lady,” while I turn toward them and say to Mom, “She’s right. That’s totally how you’re acting.” I don’t look at Hank because I’ve taken the liberty to reword my line from the ridiculous, “They were just macking, not smacking.” Who even knows what that means?
As scripted, Mom glares at me. With a dismissive shrug, I turn back to the refrigerator and continue unloading my burden. They keep arguing, and I return to grab more vegetables to load into the veggie drawer. Except, instead of turning away, I now join the conversation, shaking a red bell pepper at Mom to mark my point, pointing at Christa with a zucchini when I have a supportive line. None of these actions are staged, but they feel right. Hank might kill me for making him retake, but I’m riled up enough to argue that my interpretation of the annoying little sister is more appropriate to the mood of the movie.
When the argument ends, Mom picks up the last vegetable and adds it to the pile in my arms, making everything tumble onto the counter. I give her a tortured look, and Hank calls cut.
“That was fantastic, ladies,” he says. “That’s a one-and-done. You can celebrate with extra lunchtime.”
Gratefulness and relief flood through me, though I was totally ready to defend myself after being scolded, so it’s a bit of a letdown. Checking the cute watch I wear in most scenes, I see it’s 10:40. Twenty extra minutes. Not really enough to make a difference. I decide to grab lunch and eat in my dressing room.
“Hey, you want to hang out with me?” Sally asks.
I sigh. “You know, I kinda just want to be alone today. Nothing personal.”
She smiles. “Okay. I’ll be in the cantina if you change your mind.”
“We can go over there together. I’m gonna grab lunch first.”
“Great!”
I love how easy-going Sally is. She seems to accept people how they are. That’s probably why she’s never noticed Crispin’s superiority complex. She simply accepts it as part of him.
“So, what was happening yesterday during the shoot?” she asks.
I groan inwardly. I guess I should have anticipated this, but I’m over it, so I guess I thought everybody else would be. “I think we just got caught up in the moment. There’s definitely nothing there, though.”
“Are you sure?”
I appreciate how she doesn’t look like she’s digging for gossip, just asking a friend a question. I wish the entire world was like Sally. Oh, maybe that would get boring, but the world could use more Sallys, that’s for sure. “Trust me.”
“Well, regardless, I can’t wait to see those pictures! I just kept thinking, “That’s my little sister!” like I was so proud of you.”
We laugh. “You’re such a dork.”
“I know. Having someone who is older than me play my little sister is revealing new levels of dorkiness in my personality.”
As we walk into the cafeteria, my heart stutters a bit. She sure knows how to make me feel good. We’re standing in line laughing about how she’ll react to upcoming milestones in my life—graduation, wedding, babies—when a shadow falls over us.
