The Director's Cut

by Janice Thompson

  Hmm. Makeup. I needed to remember to call Benita later about the potential job at the studio. She would be tickled to learn that Rex had jumped on the idea. Of course, he didn’t realize what a risk he was taking. And I wouldn’t be telling him, at least not yet. It might come back to bite me later, but for now I would keep my mouth shut.

  For whatever reason, thinking about my sister got me to thinking about guys. Thinking about guys got me to thinking about Jason. I still couldn’t shake the comment he’d made after the roundtable reading. Settling onto the dust-covered sofa with my yogurt in hand, I did my best to put him out of my mind. Instead, I found myself thinking of the way Brock Benson’s smile had turned Erin to mush. Some girls just couldn’t see straight with a handsome guy in the room. Me? I could see straighter than an arrow.

  Still, what did Jason mean with that snarky comment? I thought about it a while longer. He’d apologized after, sure, but what had prompted the statement in the first place? Did he feel we were charging ahead too fast? Taking the show down the wrong track, maybe? Surely he realized we had to keep the ball rolling. Advertisers were expecting great things from us, and we wouldn’t let them down. This week’s episode would prove that as never before. Why, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Rex’s prediction turned out to be true. Perhaps several of us would garner Emmy nominations. One could hope, anyway.

  A knock sounded at the door, and I answered it, expecting to see Carlos and Humberto on the other side. My jaw dropped when I discovered my father standing there.

  “Tia-mia.” He flashed a smile almost as crooked as his conscience. “Can I come in?”

  “It’s a mess in here, Dad,” I said. “The guys have left it in shambles.” Again.

  “I heard your brothers were working on the house for you. They need something to do.” He took a step inside, and I moved aside to allow him entrance. “How’s that working out?”

  “Well, you know Carlos. He works four hours and thinks he’s put in a full day. Claims Maria or one of the kids needs him. But Humberto’s doing all right. He keeps me entertained, anyway. Both of those guys are a piece of work.” I rubbed at my itching nose, willing myself not to sneeze.

  “Chips off the old block.” He gave me a wink that I assumed was supposed to make me laugh. It did not. While I appreciated my father’s attempt at humor, I had never appreciated the fact that he bounced from one job to another . . . and one woman to another.

  Ugh. Was it getting hot in here? I tugged at the neck of my T-shirt as I led the way across the entryway and into the living room. I had a feeling he hadn’t come all this way just to talk to me about my house, or the weather.

  I pushed aside a newspaper from the sofa and gestured for him to sit, and then I faced him, but not before ushering up a silent prayer for God’s help with this conversation. He’d written a lot of father-daughter scripts over the years, so this one should be a piece of cake for him. Still, being this close to my dad had me a little unnerved, considering how angry I was with him.

  “So, what’s the latest with you and Mom?” No point in beating around the bush.

  “Well, a man can hardly avoid a question like that, now can he?” Dad chuckled and propped his feet up on my twelve-hundred-dollar coffee table. Great.

  He gestured for me to sit in the empty spot next to him, but I declined. How could I be mad at my daddy while sitting curled up at his side? No way. I’d lean against the wall and let it hold me up for a while. Unfortunately, all of the dust threw me into a sneezing fit once again. Made my eyes itch too. When I finally got things under control, I reached for a tissue and gestured for my father to begin.

  “You want to know where things stand with your mama?” The sigh that followed was a little exaggerated. “I showed up at the house this afternoon to talk to her.”

  “No way. She would’ve called me.” I wiped my nose then wadded up the tissue.

  “You can call and ask her yourself. I’ve told her how sorry I am and that it won’t happen again.” He hung his head for several seconds, then finally looked my way. “Tia, I don’t expect you to understand. You don’t have a lot of experience with the opposite sex.”

  Perfect. Condescension and a guilt trip. Just what I needed on a near-empty stomach in a dust-filled room, after a hard day at work with people whose lives off the set were as perfect as they were when the cameras were rolling.

  Focus, Tia.

  “So, you’re done with what’s-her-name, is that right? Or is this like last time?”

  “Baby girl, don’t be so hard on your old dad. I’m human. I make mistakes.” He offered a childish pout, then stroked his fingers across his heavy black mustache. Strange how I’d never noticed the gray mixed in with all that black before. Suddenly I felt very, very old. Right now, though, I focused on his eyes, still brimming with tears.

  Look away, Tia. Don’t buy into his story.

  I stiffened my backbone and faced him head-on. “You’ve surpassed your legal limit on mistakes, Dad.”

  “Legal limit?” He chuckled and his features softened. “Well, if there’s a legal limit on mistakes, I probably passed it in my teens, like everyone else in the world. But hey, you’re missing the point. We’ve got to forgive and move on. That’s what life is all about. We fall down then get back up again. Right?”

  I wanted to throw my arms up in the air and give him a little speech about falling versus deliberately walking into sin’s path. My speech would include a section on God’s idea of marriage and how he felt about men who cheated on their wives. I’d probably throw in something about building trust in a relationship and at least a brief mention—for the thousandth time—of how much pain his wandering eye had caused Mama all these years.

  My father must’ve picked up on my inner angst because he rose and took a few steps in my direction. When he reached me, he extended his hand, his eyes growing misty.

  Oh please, not again. You do this every time.

  His voice trembled as he spoke. “Tia, my family means everything to me. Don’t you see that?”

  “I know you say that, but—”

  “I’m a flawed man. But the Bible says we have to forgive.”

  “It’s not a matter of forgiving, Dad. It’s a matter of being smart.” One of us has to be. “You keep falling into the same pit, and you expect Mama to pull you out. It’s not fair to her or the rest of us. How do you think she feels after what you’ve put her through?”

  “I know, I know.” He paused and raked his fingers through his hair. “But what can I do, Tia? I’ve got eyes in my head. Can’t very well close them every time a pretty woman comes along. You might as well gouge my eyes out than ask me to look away.”

  I bit back the “Don’t tempt me” that threatened to come out. Still, a shiver ran down my spine at his blunt statement. Sure didn’t sound like he planned on mending his ways. I started to open my mouth to speak, but he didn’t seem to notice. No, he kept right on talking, clearly oblivious to my inner turmoil and my desire to put him in his place.

  When he paused from his lengthy conversation about beautiful women, my father’s expression brightened. “Speaking of pretty women, I hear Benita is coming to work for you at the studio.”

  “We’re in the talking stages, but nothing is really settled. I’m going to call her later tonight to let her know what my boss said.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I stopped by—to thank you. Benita’s a good girl.”

  “Humph.”

  No comment.

  “You’re a good girl too.” He squinted and then laughed. “Maybe a little too good. Like your mama. Such a saint, that woman.”

  I’m no saint. If you had any idea what I’m thinking about you right now, you would know that.

  “Anyway, don’t fret about Benita, honey. It will all work out.”

  “I’m not fretting.”

  He gave me a pensive look. “Sure you are. That’s what you do. You analyze things.” He crossed the room and paused in front of the fami
ly photo on the mantel. “Benita’s just the opposite. She goes where the wind blows her. Carlos too.”

  Gee, I wonder where they get that.

  “I’m afraid it’s going to blow them out to sea if they’re not careful,” I said after thinking it through. “That’s no way to live. Everyone needs a firm foundation. You know?”

  My father turned away from the photo and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, Tia. At least your brothers and sister are getting to have some adventures. I can’t fault them for that. I’ve had a few of those myself.”

  Yeah, and look where they’ve landed you—living in a cheap hotel room away from your family.

  Hmm. Maybe I should keep my thoughts to myself.

  Or not.

  “Which is better?” I asked him after pausing to think it through. “To live an adventure or to be sure of where you’re going?”

  He laughed. “I know where I’m going, Tia-mia. Same place I always go—back to your mama’s arms. Don’t ever doubt it. That woman thinks I hung the moon.” He took a couple of steps toward the door, then turned back with a wink. “She can’t make it without me.”

  I fought the temptation to slug him. Did it really seem that easy to him? Mess up—deliberately—then come crawling back, knowing my mother’s big heart would accommodate him? Suddenly I wished I had the courage to tell my mother to send him packing once and for all. She had every logical reason to do so. Even the Bible would back me up on this one.

  And yet . . . as my father stood here, a smile as broad as the Pacific on his face, I could see how he managed to charm people.

  He walked to the door. Resting his hand on the doorknob, he turned back to face me. “Honey, about your sister . . .”

  “What about her?”

  “I know you said things aren’t settled yet, but she really needs a job. It would ease your mother’s mind if you—”

  “I know, I know.”

  “You’re well connected, Tia-mia. You know people. Big people. Important people. So, it’s only right . . .”

  I waved my hand, unable to take anymore. “Our producer has already agreed to meet with her tomorrow. Don’t worry. It’s as good as done.” A sinking feeling took hold as I spoke those words. Having Benita at the studio every day would make me a nervous wreck, but I would do it—for my family. Besides, we had less than two months left in the season. Surely I could endure that much time with Benita.

  He gave me an approving nod. “I never worry where you’re concerned. Of all my children, you’re the only one I never fret over.” He gave me a look that could almost be described as endearing. “You’re the one to make us all proud. The real winner in the bunch.”

  His flattery caught me off guard. Still, I could sense manipulation when I saw it. His words were meant to provoke me to action, as always. Tia, the worker bee. Tia, the rescuer. Tia, the only one in the family capable of carrying the load—financially and emotionally—for everyone else.

  Nope. Nothing had changed. Except now the words were covered with more dust. I felt like sneezing just thinking about it.

  Dad’s hand gripped the door, and he turned on the charm once more. Flashing a convincing smile, he offered up a few parting words. “Think like a winner, honey. Stick with your family. Don’t abandon us now, not after all we’ve been through together.”

  Funny. As I closed the door behind him, I realized I could have said the very same thing to him.

  On Tuesday morning I arose feeling completely wiped out after a late night of taping and retaping Sheetrock in my entryway. Turned out it was harder than it looked. So much for those hunky carpenters on the DIY network, telling me I could do it myself. They’d clearly never seen a neurotic, overworked Hollywood director try her hand at home improvement.

  My watery eyes and itchy nose made me a great candidate for an antihistamine commercial, but I didn’t dare take any meds. Not on such an important day. It was Tuesday, after all. Some of my toughest work happened on Tuesdays. Blocking and reblocking scenes. Giving instruction to the actors, the camera guys, and so on. Nope. No time to think about a head cold—or whatever this was—today.

  As I hit the 405, I shifted gears—internally, anyway—and gave some thought to today’s plan of action. After such a great read-through yesterday, I felt sure my cast and crew would be in good spirits. That would help. Hopefully our run-through would be smooth.

  My phone rang just as I reached my exit. I pushed a button on my steering wheel and Mama’s voice rang out, just as it did every morning about this time.

  “Tia-mia, you sweet girl! I just called to thank you for getting Benita the job. It means the world to me. And her too, of course. To all of us. Oh, you always come through for us, Tia.”

  “It’s not really solid yet, Mama,” I said. “Rex has agreed to meet with her today. I called her last night and made it very clear what is expected of her, if he does decide to hire her.” A chill came over me as I thought about the potential for disaster with my sister in the studio. Thankfully, the SUV behind me provided the perfect distraction as he attempted to rush me down the ramp.

  “Oh, I know it’s going to be solid before the day’s over,” Mama said. “I’ve been praying about it and feel sure the job’s in the bag. But I really called to talk to you about your father. I, um . . . I hear he stopped by your place last night.”

  “Benita shouldn’t have told you.”

  My mother’s voice kept me from saying more. “Did he . . . I mean, is he planning to . . .”

  Come back home? Again?

  “I guess that’s your decision, Mama.” I pulled my car up to a stoplight and drew in a deep breath. “It’s between you and Daddy. It’s not really my business. Besides, he said he talked to you already.”

  “Still, you’re my oldest, Tia-mia. I lean on you for advice.”

  And a thousand other things.

  She continued, oblivious to my thoughts. “And yes, I talked to him, but I still can’t decide if he’s telling the truth this time. Did his apology seem real to you? Hmm, baby girl?”

  “Mama, I’d really like to talk, but I’m almost to the studio. It’s Tuesday. You know what that means.”

  “Yes. Tuesday is one of the most important days of the week.” Sounded like she was reading the words from a book or something. “It’s the day the cast and crew do a full run-through of the episode for the first time. You’ve told me a dozen times.”

  “Exactly. And it’s the day when I have to stay focused and give direction.”

  Especially today, since we’re delivering a baby.

  “You’ve never had a problem with focus, honey. Now, your little brother, he’s another story. Gabe’s teacher tried to tell me that she thinks he has ADHD and needs to be on medication. What do you think of that?”

  I think it’s about five years overdue, but I would never say that out loud.

  “Just one more thing to pray about, Mama,” I said. “Better hit your knees.”

  “With as many children as I’ve got, I spend half my time on my knees and the other half wringing my hands. And when you factor your father into the equation . . .” She sighed. “Anyway, I spend a lot of time praying. And my knees are calloused.”

  No doubt.

  “I’ve spent a lot of time doing the same,” I said as the light changed. “That’s the only thing that gets me through—on Tuesdays and every other day of the week.”

  “I know you have to work, honey, but when things slow down, call me and give me all the news about Benita’s new job, okay? I can hardly wait to hear, especially now that Brock Benson is part of your cast.”

  I shoved the feelings of panic aside as I realized Benita would be spending one-on-one time with Brock Benson. The very idea terrified me. Still, he seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders. Surely he could deal with a beautiful flirt like my younger sister. I hoped.

  I ended the call with Mama, my mind now reeling. Thank goodness Benita was waiting on me when I arrived at the studio. I ushered her
into Rex’s office, and after just ten minutes of chitchat, she’d landed herself the job. So much for thinking the network execs would have to weigh in on the idea. Rex made the decision as if he’d known all along he would.

  As we left his office, he leaned over and patted me on the shoulder. “I like her a lot, Tia. Never would’ve guessed you two are sisters, though. You’re very . . . different.” The creases between his brows deepened.

  “Um, yes.”

  And not just physically.

  Just as quickly, the tension seemed to lift from his face. “Still, I see something in her. And her portfolio is wonderful. She’s got quite an eye for color.”

  And other things. I paused and drew in a breath. Stop it, Tia. Give your sister a chance.

  “Have someone take her over to meet with Nora. They’ll have a few days together before Nora has to leave. Benita can learn the ropes.”

  “Great idea.”

  By the time I’d absorbed his words, Benita was ten paces ahead of me in the hallway. She reached the set, then turned back to face me, her eyes shimmering with tears.

  “Oh, Tia, it’s wonderful. To think I’ll be putting the finishing touches on some of Hollywood’s hottest—” Her words hung in midair as Brock Benson entered the room. “Oh, mama mia,” she said at last. “It’s that all-American boy next door. In the flesh.” She pulled out a compact and checked her appearance. Turning my way, she whispered, “How do I look?”

  “Great. As always.”

  “Thanks.” She snapped the compact closed and smacked her lips together. “Let’s get this show on the road, sis.” She giggled at her own words. “Show on the road. Ha!”

  “Yeah, we get that a lot around here.”

  “Introduce me to the cast and crew, okay? And play it up like I’m used to working with stars. I’ve spent time with a few at the salon, you know.” She lit into a lengthy list of well-known people she’d crossed paths with, but I barely heard any of it. Instead, I found myself focused on Jason, who approached Brock and shook his hand.