There were two things helping me keep my head. One was a desire not to spook Logan by trying to push this thing too fast.
This was all still very unlike her and she was already giving me a lot.
The other thing was the knowledge that if I didn’t have the huge stressor of creating the show on my back, I wouldn’t be quite as hard pressed to put a label on what we were. The anxieties of the show had me a lot more drawn to certainties in my personal life, things I didn’t really have to wonder about.
Which meant it was a good thing I had somebody like Logan on the other side of this, because she really wasn’t the make you wonder type. She was either with it or she wasn’t, and when that status changed, I felt confident she would let me know.
So for now, I was good.
This was the first situation since I’d been fully-seated and comfortable in my sobriety that resembled a relationship, and I wanted to be careful with it, didn’t want to mess it up.
The only thing with that was… I now had a whole list of things I was trying not to mess up, which wasn’t exactly great for my mental health.
“Oh my God, aren’t you Elodie Perry’s brother?”
Fuck.
Neither was that.
It was late, and I’d just walked through the door of Logan’s building with my backpack slung over one shoulder, ready to spend the night. We were both exhausted when we left set, so sleep really was the only thing on either of our agendas. When I commented about where I’d rather do my sleeping tonight, she’d given me a smile that just wouldn’t let me keep my ass at home.
Maybe I should have though.
“Uh… yeah,” I answered the woman and her friend who had rushed up to me now, peering at me with wide eyes like I was some kind of superstar.
“What are you doing here?” She asked. “Oh my God do you live here? Is she here?!”
“What if she’s your neighbor?!” the friend giggled, and I shook my head.
“Nah, I’m just visiting a friend.”
“Must be some friend at this time of night,” the first one said, and they exchanged a look, letting off some kinda twin-energy high pitched laugh.
“Says the women leaving out at this time instead of coming in,” I counted, eyebrow raised, which made them blush first before they decided it was hilarious that I’d pulled their card too.
“I guess you got a point, we’ll let you get on about your business… if you promise to introduce us to Elodie!”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Sorry ladies. I don’t think I can help with that, but maybe you’ll run into her around town.”
They had no qualms about the eye rolls. “Fiiine. Can we at least get a selfie or something?”
Fuck.
I wanted to… I don’t know just offer an autograph or something instead, but I wasn’t famous like that. And even if I was, from what I understood, people these days didn’t want that. They wanted photographic proof for their social media accounts. If I declined this, I could already hear Logan, Nubia, and even Chloe McKenna in my head, fussing at me about not being nice to “fans”, even though they weren’t even mine.
“Fine,” I grunted, trying not to sound as completely unenthusiastic about it as I felt. “Just one.”
There were more excited giggles as they both took their phones out, even though I’d very clearly said just one.
Whatever though.
I stepped between them and fixed my face to try not to look completely fucking awkward as they snapped their pictures – just one apiece, so maybe that was just a misunderstanding.
Either way, they seemed happy with the photos and went on about their giggling-ass way, so I could move on to my real destination.
Logan’s bed.
She answered her door in her pajamas, her hair already tied up for the night in one of her many printed silk scarves. I got a kiss in greeting that made me want to say fuck sleep, but Logan had already been through the wringer, handling a bunch of media stuff and picking up a few more official duties on set for the first half of the week.
She was barely keeping her eyes open, and I didn’t want to contribute to her dragging or being exhausted the next day.
So, when she slipped her hand into mine to lead me to her room, I just followed, with no expectations about sex, which was cool.
Completely.
I just wanted to be close to her.
She climbed into her bed while I headed for the shower, and by the time I made it back out, she’d already drifted off. Instead of waking her up… I just joined her.
I was in trouble as soon as I woke up.
I could just feel it in Logan’s energy, even though I wasn’t sure what I could have possibly done wrong.
She wasn’t being outright cold, but I’d definitely woken up with her before to a lot more warmth than she was sending in my direction now.
I was confused.
Really fucking confused.
That was, until I picked up my phone.
Apparently, I’d been tagged in something, and when I unlocked my screen to figure out where I’d been tagged and in what, the first thing I saw was the picture I’d taken last night in Logan’s lobby with those girls.
At first I thought damn, maybe one of them put something in the caption to make it seem like something it wasn’t. But to my eyes the caption seemed innocent enough.
Look who me and my homegirl ran into. @El_P_NoAlbum has a fine ass brother. One step closer to meeting the real thing right?
They didn’t even give a shit about me; only my connection to Elodie. But that made me even more confused as to what Logan could be upset about.
So, fuck it.
I just asked.
“Hey,” I said, stepping into the bathroom with my toothbrush while she was still in the mirror washing her face. “What’s up with you this morning? You’re giving me some energy I don’t understand.”
She cut her eyes in my direction in the mirror and then her eyebrows pulled together. “You really don’t understand why I would be annoyed that you took a picture in my lobby that is now all over social media?”
My eyes went wide. “…nah, shorty. I really don’t.”
“Seriously, Pierre? All it takes is one person who knows where I live to recognize the distinctive ass lobby of this building in a picture and rumors start flying.”
Oh.
Damn.
I had not thought about that.
Logan lived in a nice ass building, and it was a pretty distinctive lobby. Ultra-modern, all white, with these teal neon lights and accents everywhere.
I could see her concern.
Instead of admitting that though, I focused on something else.
“Not a rumor, if it’s true. It’s just a story somebody happened to guess right,” I said, which brought a scowl to her face.
“It’s not a guess if we’re spoon feeding them information I’ve been pretty clear about not wanting to get out.” She shook her head, turning her eyes back to her own reflection. “Whatever though. It’s my fault. I knew it was sloppy, us being at each other’s places, but especially you coming to mine when I don’t have any real privacy here.”
“Damn, so me and you together is sloppy now?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. People taking pictures of my client on his way to spend the night in my bed? Yes, Pierre it’s fucking sloppy. But again, it’s my fault for getting wrapped up in it and not thinking this through like I would with anything else. I should have known better.”
With a huff, she left the bathroom.
And I… really didn’t know what else to say, so I called after her, “Ay, you’re not calling your ass finished without toning and moisturizing, are you?”
She poked her head back in the bathroom door. “What?”
“Last time you stayed over with me, you made a whole big ass deal about your morning skincare, upset that you forgot to grab your toner and your moisturizer. You walked out of here without doing it just now
.”
She stared at me for a long moment and then she did step back into the bathroom to finish her routine out.
In silence.
Which was cool, because I was brushing my teeth anyway, and it gave me time to replay the conversation in my head so I could see exactly where I went wrong.
Because I definitely had gone wrong.
She was right, we had discussed this. And even though I didn’t really care for the secrets and shit, I knew it mattered to her.
And not just that it mattered to her, that she had a point.
Her reputation was important, and of course, one that claimed she slept with clients wasn’t what she wanted.
So… when I was finished brushing my teeth, I went to find her in her closet.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She’d had her back to me, but when she turned now with today’s shoes in her hand, her eyes were glossy like she was struggling not to cry.
Shit.
I was really sorry now.
“Hey… my bad, aiight?” I told her, immediately approaching to wrap my arms around her. Instead of pulling away, she welcomed it, dropping her head to my chest. “I shouldn’t have been dismissive,” I admitted. “And I should have stepped outside or something for the picture. I didn’t even want to take it honestly, I just felt like if I didn’t, it would turn into something else for you to have to fix. You know I wouldn’t consciously do anything to mess things up for you, right?”
“Of course I know that,” she said, lifting her head to meet my gaze. “It never crossed my mind that this was on purpose. But I… I do get to be bothered about it,” she told me. “And not just irritated with you, but with myself too. You want to be behind the scenes with me, then this is what you get – this is what you got to see. I spent too much time in my last situation just swallowing stuff and brushing it off. And I don’t want to do that anymore, so I’m just going to feel what I’m feeling. And then we’ll move on.”
As usual, she was right.
It was actually something I’d had to talk through extensively in rehab—feeling what you were feeling instead of rushing to try to fix it or not feel it anymore. That shit wasn’t healthy and was often the catalyst for a disastrous relationship with self-medicating, which I knew a little too much about. Sometimes… you just needed to sit with shit and let it pass when it passed.
I wasn’t a pussy, so I could handle her feeling however she felt about it because I knew we’d be good on the other side.
“You want me to leave you alone?” I asked, and I was, admittedly, relieved when she shook her head no.
“I’m not that mad,” she said, with a soft laugh as she dropped her head against my chest again. “There’s a balance, between logic and emotion, and I may have let the pendulum swing a little too far. We have to be a lot more careful.”
I didn’t have a rebuttal to that, and I also didn’t care to explore what that was going to mean for us moving forward.
Not right now.
For now, I was going to just enjoy whatever time we had left this morning.
Handling the rest could come later.
We ended up being late.
Just a little.
I casually tossed out the suggestion of us doing a bit of “making up” to smooth over the tension and we ended up getting a little too wrapped up in it.
What saved us from being hella obvious with it was Logan’s need to go handle some things in the office, while I went straight to set. Not arriving together was a good cover.
Not good enough, however.
“I don’t have to ask where you spent the night, do I?” Elodie teased, sidling up to me at the craft services table where I was grabbing a pastry and coffee for breakfast. “You gotta be more careful with your creeping, P.”
I sucked my teeth. “You say that like I haven’t noticed how tough Shaw has been sniffing around you,” I taunted right back, turning to face her just in time to see her jaw drop open.
“Logan said something, didn’t she?!”
I frowned. “No, Logan hasn’t told me shit about you – should she have?”
“Oh. Nope,” El quipped, pressing her lips together like she’d said too much. But because she was nosy, she couldn’t help asking, “What makes you think there’s something with me and Shaw?”
The easy answer was that I’d seen that scene – through my damn fingers – between the two of them. They were both talented actors, but the chemistry was so strong I had a hard time believing it was completely fake.
The other, harder to verbalize answer was that I could just… tell. And it was fine. Not that she needed – or cared for – my approval, but even when they weren’t in character, I’d seen how that nigga looked at my sister, and… she needed somebody that looked at her like that. Not… Misogyny or whatever the fuck that other dude’s name was.
I knew El though, and… the fact that Shaw seemed like a good dude, had good head on his shoulders, was appropriate in age, and wasn’t doing a bunch of partying and shit… none of that worked exactly in his favor. Not based on her past relationships – the ones I was privy to, at least.
Working on the show did seem to be calming her down though, so maybe her attraction to wild dudes was changing.
Hopefully.
Just in case though, I wasn’t about to give her too much indication that Shaw had my approval.
“I’ve seen him sniffing around you,” I told her, with a stern expression I didn’t actually feel. “He’d better be glad it’s too late to recast him. I didn’t hire his ass for this.”
“Ugh, you hate everybody I like,” she fussed, crossing her arms.
Yeah.
I did.
And my displeasure had likely fueled her staying with them, which I’d learned a lesson from.
“You’ll live with it somehow, you always do,” I said, pulling out my phone so I could stop the incessant buzzing it was doing.
Fucking social media.
“Did you run into another one of my fans or something?” El asked, peeking around me to see my screen. “Or you’re just Mr. Popular now?”
Shaking my head, I showed it to her. “Man, I don’t know what all is going on with this shit. I’m only doing this because I have to. I’ve gotta post something today.”
“Take a selfie with me,” she suggested. “It’ll definitely get a bunch of likes.”
“I don’t care about that…”
“But you should,” she insisted. “Creating buzz for the show, all that.”
I was so fucking sick of that word.
Buzz.
Why couldn’t I just put the shit out, and whoever wanted to watch it, did?
Obviously, I knew it didn’t exactly work like that – especially with network funds behind the project. Sure, I’d gotten the greenlight straight from the top, but the budget we’d been given wasn’t just for fun – they needed to see returns. And the way that happened was advertising dollars, licensing, merch, all that kinda stuff whose success depended on people watching.
And the best way to get people watching was… buzz.
“Here,” I told El, handing her the phone. She was the one who knew the angles and shit, so it was better to let her be the one to get it done.
She didn’t even show it to me after, just went straight to slapping a black and white filter on it, and adding it to my feed with the caption, “The Family Business.” I expected her to return it to me after that, but instead she started tapping around.
“Uh… can I help you?” I asked, gesturing for her to hand it over.
“Hold up, I’m trying to see how many chicks you’ve got camping out in your DMs.”
“What? None,” I insisted, shaking my head. “I don’t even look at that shit. It was always full of spam, so I stopped.”
“You’ve gotta set it where only people you follow can send you messages,” El said. “I’ll fix it for you. But um… I see a familiar face in here.”
“What? Who?”
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Her nose wrinkled as she pointed out a message from Sienna, right before she deleted it without opening. “Blocked, bitch.” She muttered. “Oh, this is one of the production assistants here,” she said next. “She wants you to follow her back. I’ma go ahead and do it.”
“If you don’t give me my damn phone,” I said, taking the device from her just as Nick rolled up, ready for us to get started.
We really did have to get to work.
We were filming episode six now, with the show premiering earlier than what we’d gone into this thinking – in just two weeks. We’d been offered the option of a digital-first premiere, with the show being primarily pushed as the latest “binge-worthy” offering on the streaming service.
I didn’t want this binged though.
I understood the appeal, and had even been guilty of doing it myself, but really felt like “binge culture” did a lot of shows – and art in general – a huge disservice. Good shit needed time to breathe, time to sit with it and really process it, to consider not just the messages, but the art itself.
The brain needed breaks from stimulation to appreciate what it had consumed.
I wanted the time and energy, the blood, sweat, and tears we’d put into this to be appreciated beyond somebody staring at their screen in a near vegetative state. I wanted people to feel this shit, like we had through every step of creating it.
So we’d taken the other option.
Nick, Nubia, Miko, Logan, they all agreed it was the better choice.
A real premiere, happening in a few weeks, and a sneak peek event in LA, happening even sooner.
All about the buzz.
I hated that fucking word.
Besides the obvious, for me it held a different connotation – right alongside binge. It was a cruel irony that my chosen path – my passion really – was happening in TV, where I couldn’t get away from those words, and couldn’t really explain to anybody else why the shit was so triggering.
It was all so fucking triggering.
I was good though.
I had to be.
We were too close to the finish line, too close to finally seeing this through for anything else to be an option.
Behind the Scenes Page 26
