Neevah
“Chile,you glowing, and I haven’t even put on your makeup yet.”
I meet Takira’s eyes in the mirror and suppress a grin.
“I do drink a lot of water,” I tell her, sipping from my ever-handy bottle. “That helps.”
“Hmmmm. I got your water right here. You been mighty quiet about that trip to Santa Barbara.”
Even though we’re alone in my trailer, I’m a little uncomfortable discussing our trip while I’m on set. Seeing Camille’s publicist obviously irritated Canon and underscored the need for discretion.
“In my defense,” I say, “you got back long after I was asleep and we were both nodding off in the back seat when the driver picked us up this morning, so we haven’t really talked.”
“True. That was a nice few days off, but I’m ready to get back at it. Hard to believe we only have two months left, and then we can go home.”
I fiddle with a pile of hairpins in my lap. Two months before I put thousands of miles between Canon and me.
“You just did one of them woe-is-me sighs when I mentioned going home,” Takira says, brushing my hair and prepping for the Dessi wig. “What’s that all about?”
“No. I just . . . I don’t have my next thing lined up yet. My agent has a new Broadway production she’d like me to audition for, but that would be committing to a show. And I might want to be more flexible.” I hazard a glance up at her in the mirror. “Maybe even stay out here in LA for a few months to see what happens.”
Takira lets her hands drop from my hair and puts them on her hips. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
“That Canon. He inserted his dick directly into your heart, didn’t he?”
I scrunch my expression. “Maybe a little bit?”
We both crack up laughing, and, leaning one hip against the vanity, she swivels my chair around to face her. “We got a few minutes to spare. Tell me how good it was.”
“It was like Drake’s the-best-you-ever-had sex. It was like Idris-on-a-cracker sex. It was like . . . if-your-favorite-vibrator-was-a-great-listener-and-sparkling-conversationalist-and-cooked-you-dinner-and-made-you-feel-like-the-only-girl-in-the-world . . . sex.”
“Shut your mouth.” Takira’s eyes stretch wide. “Our grumpy director.”
“Gets really ungrumpy, yeah, but shhhhh. We’re keeping it quiet until after the movie wraps.”
Takira turns my chair back around and starts brushing my hair again. “Just be careful with that heart of yours. Remember the last time you were gonna make a career decision with a man in mind?”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me.”
“It’s in my BFF job description to remind you.” Her face softens, sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry it didn’t go well over Christmas with your sister.”
“It’s alright.” I force a smile. “I didn’t expect all my problems with Terry to be solved just like that, but I also didn’t expect it to be this hard. I guess we’ve waited too long and let it get too bad. I’m not sure what it’ll take to repair things.”
“Well, you know I’m here for you.” She pats my shoulder and winks. “Whatever you need.”
Takira and I tell each other everything, and I’m sure I’ll be ready to talk more freely about Canon soon. It’s not just our self-imposed muzzle order that keeps me reticent. The time we spent together, the steps we took forward, was precious to me. I want to keep it as just ours for a while.
I’d thought it would be hard not having contact with Canon, getting back to the set and pretending we aren’t together while we’re working. I underestimated Canon’s near-obsessive focus.
And my own.
This is the role of a lifetime, and when I step on that set, I give it everything. Kenneth continues providing most of my notes, but on the rare occasion that Canon delivers feedback himself, it’s with the same firm thoughtfulness he shows every other actor. Even though I miss him, we both do our jobs with the same professionalism we demonstrated before we went away together. I’m living off our few text messages and phone calls, but not much contact so far.
I don’t knowif I got soft or spoiled or what over the holiday break, but by the weekend our first week back, I’m done. I can barely move or keep my eyes open. When the car drops me off Saturday evening, everything aches. We adhere to a blended production schedule. French hours when possible, grind it out when necessary. We have five days of shooting and a day built in for rehearsals. That leaves Sunday as my only day off.
So I can’t wait for Sunday, and I have every intention of sleeping until noon.