Two
Jesse
Ichug the last gulps of water from the bottle Darla gave me, watching the new production assistant stride back across the beach, her wide hips swaying as she walks. Denim shorts hug her generous ass, and her blonde ponytail is a thick rope down her back.
Even after the long drink, my throat is still dry.
“Alright, places.” A crew member herds us into our starting positions, checking his clipboard to make sure we’re all clustered together in the right order. “You guys all set?”
He addresses everyone, but his eyes flick to me. I nod, lips pressed together.
I’m all set. I’ve done this literally thousands of times.
Everything we’ve done today, everything we still have left to do, is as familiar as my morning routine. Getting brushed and dabbed by the make up girls; listening to the buzz and crackle of crew radios. Feeling the sandy breeze whip against my shins, and smearing sun tan lotion on my face in the midday heat.
The choreographed sprints into the sea.
Carrying an extra onto the beach and laying them flat.
Pressing down on their chest; pretending to breathe into their mouth. Then rocking back on my heels when the extra miraculously splutters to life, shaking my head and peering out past the camera like it really was a close one this time.
Listen, I’m not being a dick. I know that a lot of good people love this show.Iloved it too, for a long time, but I’m well past thirty now and still trotting out the same lines. Still going through the same plot arcs, over and over and over.
How did I get here?
Or more like: how did Istayhere? And how do I move on?
When I broached the topic with my agent in the spring, she wheezed out a throaty laugh. Told me I’d be killing my own career, leaving this sure thing.Jesse Hendry, the star of Riptide.
I’m grateful, okay?
But can’t I be more? Can’t I at least try?
Someone barks a warning. The other actors go still, their shoulders settling, getting themselves in the zone. I used to do that too, used to have all these little tricks and routines to center me and help me focus.
Now I could do this job with earbuds in.
“Action!”
We tear off as a pack, sprinting across the hot sand, the steadythump, thump, thumpof my steps rattling my shin bones. Turquoise water sparkles on one side; loungers and crew stations dot the sand on the other. I clench my jaw, frowning at the waves with fierce concentration, just the way Franklin likes it.
Steady breaths in, steady breaths out.
When I first landed this role, Ilivedin the gym—practically camped out there for six months, pounding away at a treadmill and pushing weights, desperate to get my cardio up to scratch. On my left, one of the other lifeguards is wheezing. He could use more cardio too.
“Help!” One of the extras wails, throwing her arms in the air, jumping around thigh-deep in the sea. She’s playing the kid’s mom. “Help, please! My baby!”
We shoot past her, foamy salt water flying up in our wake. I’m at the front now, taking point, diving into the water with an exaggerated arc.
Sometimes the other guys make me jostle for it. Try to sneakily get in my way and slow me down.
I don’t even care. At least it makes things interesting.
The ocean is cool, nice and soothing against my flushed cheeks, but nowhere near as cold as the takes we did earlier this morning. The sun’s been beating down on it all day, warming up the water.
A tendril of seaweed tangles around my forearm. I jerk it off, cutting through the waves with powerful strokes, and that seaweed might be enough to ruin the take, but I keep going anyway. Gotta see this through.
Salt stings my eyes and my heart races in my chest, and when I break the surface next to the ‘drowning’ boy, I make sure to toss my hair back just like Franklin likes. Like I’m a goddamn mermaid.