Page 52 of Take It Till You Make It
“What’s it like being an adult?”
He side-eyes me. “You’re an adult.”
“Not for another month.”
“Ari, you got yourself and your mother out here so you could start your job on time. I’d say that’s pretty adult.”
I remember having to pretend to be Mom so I could sign us up for utilities. Consider the fact that I currently pay the rent and the monthly bills to keep a roof over our heads and buy all the groceries. “I guess you’re right.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Crispin says. “I love what I do. I’m thankful that the industry and the fans like my work enough that I can continue doing it, but when a tabloid, or even the occasional fan, accuses me of being spoiled, I get frustrated. I work hard and I work a lot. I study the craft. I watch what I eat. I exercise. I’m a very disciplined person. I may not have to read for most of my roles anymore, but that’s because I’ve been around for a long time, and directors often know my range or think they can pull something new out of me. I’m respectful and remain coachable.”
I fiddle with the hem of my sleeve.
“What?” Crispin asks. His gaze keeps flipping between me and traffic, which seems really heavy for so late in the evening, but I’m not usually out this late.
“Well, I mean…” I stammer.
When I bite my lip, he asks, “What?” again.
“It’s just that you weren’t respectful to me in the beginning. I’ve definitely seen another side of you since, but…” I grimace.
“I’ve been thinking about that. You said I was conceited when I thought you were an intern and dismissive when you asked for directions, right?”
I nod.
“It’s weird because the first time I saw you, you intrigued me. You looked so serious for someone who I thought was so young. I instantly wanted to know your story. I think the intern thought lodged in my brain, because when I saw you that second time in wardrobe, I figured you were just making an excuse to talk to me because we had been shooting for at least a week by that point, and as an intern, you should have known where to go by then.”
“That’s still rude. You told me you don’t mind the autograph hounds and attention seekers.”
“I don’t mind them off set. People are expected to act more professionally on set.”
I purse my lips. I still think he could have been more pleasant in both circumstances.
He sighs. “Look, the truth is, I think you’re right, and I’ve gotten a bit full of myself. I should have been nicer to you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t.”
The last thing I expected from him was an admission. Suddenly, my cheeks are burning, and I can’t look at him. “Oh, well, thanks.”
Chapter Nineteen
We pullinto a mostly empty parking lot. River parks next to us. Once again, I feel awkward and conspicuous being the only other person to climb out of Crispin’s car. Why can’t I get over this? What is it about this that makes me feel like a spotlight is trained on me? Maybe it’s the sly glance from Sally as she grabs River’s hand. Or perhaps the longing expression Brook tries to mask when she falls into step beside us. I’ve shoved my hands into my pockets even though it’s significantly warmer here compared to being right on the ocean. I probably don’t even need my hoodie anymore. I clench my fists to keep myself from pulling the hood up and burying my face within its shadows.
Crispin leads us around to a side entrance that he performs a complicated knock upon. The door swings open and a beautiful young woman beams out at us. She’s dressed in a polo shirt with the observatory logo on the pocket and khaki pants.
“Right on time, as usual, Crispin.”
She has a charming Australian accent to go along with her cascade of thick blonde hair and mile-long legs. I can picture her in a neon-yellow, G-string bikini playing slow-motion volleyball on a sunny beach.
“I thought you said you know a guy,” I mumble, not actually expecting him to hear me or respond. But he smirks at me over his shoulder as he goes in for a hug with the cover model.
“Zena, it’s lovely to see you again. How’s Everett?”
“He’s still in denial that he’s too old to be your double.”
Crispin turns to us with a genuine smile brightening his face. I’m pretty sure I hear a collective gasp from all of us. “Everybody, this is Zena. She’ll be our tour guide tonight. Her husband, Everett, used to be my stunt double.”
“Until he gained too much weight and got a little saggy around the middle.”
I frown. How old is he? She doesn’t look older than twenty-five. Regardless, I’m a little too relieved to know she’s married.
