Canon
“You were especially pleasant tonight,”Monk says when we climb into the Uber that met us at the corner.
“I was, wasn’t I?” I settle back into the seat and close my eyes. “Thank you for noticing.”
“You were on your phone the whole time.” His voice holds little sting because he knows I don’t respond to that guilt shit, especially not when it comes to being social.
“I was convincing Mallory to fly out to New York as soon as possible. Lots of protests and texting back and forth.”
“Your casting director? Why does she need to come to New York?”
“I want her to see some auditions out here.” I open my eyes and grin crookedly. “I found my Dessi.”
“What?” Monk’s brows shoot up. “When? Who?”
“Tonight.” I hesitate, watching his face for a reaction. “Your friend Neevah.”
Flabbergasted.
“The fuck?” he says after a moment of his mouth hanging open. “Neevah Saint?”
“Yeah. The one we watched perform. The one we had dinner with.”
“First of all, we did not have dinner. I had dinner with them folks. You were the same antisocial bastard you usually are, and they still were all up your ass.”
“They’re actors. I’m a director. They want work, so the forecast is always partly fawning with a high chance of kiss-ass.”
“Second of all, you barely looked at Neevah, much less spoke to her. When did you decide she’s Dessi Blue?”
“Pretty much as soon as she stepped onstage.”
“It’s the way she looks? That’s why you want to cast her?” Censure, though unspoken, lurks in his voice.
“Get the fuck outta here. You know me better than that. You think I find the story of a lifetime, put my whole ass career on the line to tell it, take almost a year to fund it, then search for the right actor for six months only to cast a girl because she has a great ass?”
“Oh, so you did notice her ass.”
And every other part of her, but that’s not pertinent.
Her ass. Her tits.
Her flawless coppery skin. A face so expressive it’s like a blank canvas she paints every emotion across in vivid color, in broad strokes. Big brown eyes that in one moment offer everything and in the next seem to hoard a thousand secrets. A man would ransom his soul for those eyes, for those secrets.
Each of her physical features is remarkable.
And completely irrelevant.
If all it took was a pretty girl, I could have cast this part six months ago. Dessi Blue requires more than a pretty face.
I want that light Neevah lets out when she sings. I want that conviction behind every word she spoke onstage. I want that little volcano of a woman to erupt on my set. I want everything she has to give because I knew immediately she was one of those who gives everything. And I’m the man to get it out of her. The right director (me). The right story (mine). And she’ll be touted as a rare talent. It didn’t take me all night to know that. I knew it right away.
And it’s never happened to me before. Not like this.
“Her ass won’t tell my story,” I respond after a few seconds. “The studio wasted all that money and time looking for Dessi the last six months and I found her making her Broadway debut. Randomly.”
“Not sure they’ll agree. What did Mallory think?”
“Let’s just say she’s skeptical. She’s never heard of Neevah, so of course she’s got reservations.”