Even though he said discoid lupus is not life-threatening, it’s apparent the doctor doesn’t like the direction this is headed.
“This shouldn’t affect production today,” Evan continues. “But in a few days, when she goes in for the biopsy—”
I stand abruptly, the action scraping the chair across the hardwood floor and cutting Evan off.
“Fuck you,” I tell him, my eyes narrowed. “You find this out and you don’t tell me? And then you speed right past this information like I’m supposed to—”
“I knew you were on a run with the props team and—”
“And so you just neglected to tell me at the absolute earliest moment that my girlfriend has lupus and needs a biopsy on her kidneys?”
“If you check your phone, you’ll see I tried calling you,” he says in that even tone I hate, like he’s reasoning with me when I’m being unreasonable. “You didn’t answer, and I got caught up taking care of some issues this morning before we had a chance to talk.”
He runs an agitated hand through his hair. “Maybe the real problem you have,” Evan grinds out, “is that she didn’t tell you, and that is something you’ll have to take up with your girlfriend later. My job is to make sure this disrupts the movie we’ve spent two years and millions of dollars on as little as possible, which is why she came to me and not you. She understands that.”
“Well, I don’t understand,” I fire back, heading toward the door. “Guys, I think we were just about done anyway. As Evan has so effectively reported, Neevah’s medical condition shouldn’t affect shooting today. We’ll figure out tomorrow.”
“And where are you going?” Evan asks, his tone sharp as a new blade.
“Motherfucker, where you think I’m going?”
I stomp out of the room and take a few paces before realizing I am stomping and probably scowling, based on the concerned looks of the cast and crew. My steps slow and then stop, right in the middle of our 1930s French Riviera. I let all the information I just heard sink in. My fists are clenched at my sides. My chest heaves from the effort of walking and breathing. I hate being in the dark and I hate being out of control, and this shit with Neevah is too much of both.
I need to know everything.
I start with hair and makeup, but she’s not in the tent they’ve set up for the crew. Takira is, though, trimming a wig on a mannequin. She looks up, smiling when she sees me approaching. She must not know, or she doesn’t want me to know. I don’t care to figure out why she’s smiling. After hearing Evan tell me about Neevah, I need to hear it from her and no one else.
“Where is she?” I ask, unable to summon manners.
Takira’s smile slips, but a teasing glint enters her eye, like we have a secret. We do not have a secret. Everyone knows I’m sprung for Neevah. I’ve failed at concealing that fact.
“Wardrobe,” Takira answers. “’Bout five minutes ago.”
“Thanks,” I mutter tersely, heading for the hard-topped tent I searched yesterday. This time, I find her. She’s standing in a floor-length gold dress embellished with sequined orchids. It molds to her upper body, faithfully follows the curves of her breasts and waist and hips. It shimmers across the rich hue of her skin like gold dust, and she’s laughing down at Linh, who’s on her knees with pins in her mouth, grinning while she adjusts something on the costume. Joy—there’s no other way to describe it—lights Neevah’s face. Her laugh rings out like a chime and her head is thrown back, like she’s giving herself completely over to the moment she’s in right now. Like besides doing what she loves most, she doesn’t have a care in the world.
But I do.
And as much as I’ve given this movie, as much as I care about it, right now, all I care about is her.
I enter the tent and her smile falters. Our eyes hold, and we’re both searching. For someone who can usually read her as easily as the alphabet, I have no idea what she’s thinking. And I need to.
“Linh,” I say. “Could you excuse us for a second?”
Linh glances over her shoulder, seeing me for the first time, and rises gracefully. She carries herself with such dignity and a quiet strength. What is she doing married to a guy like Law Stone?
“I’ll be back to check this,” Linh says, “before the first scene.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Neevah tells her. “I’m honored to wear it.”
Linh’s expression, typically impassive, reveals uncharacteristic enthusiasm and pride. “I think it’s my favorite dress I’ve ever designed.”
“It looks incredible,” I add, smiling at her. “Great job.”
She inclines her head indicating her thanks, and then leaves Neevah and me alone.
Simply seeing her takes some of the edge off my frustration and anger. She has fighter’s eyes. The force of her personality, that undimming light, was one of the first things I noticed about her.
“Where is everybody?” I ask, walking deeper into the space. “Isn’t it usually kinda crazy in here with so many extras?”