“So you think they’re going to get to us any time soon?” I asked Adrienne, who sat to my right in a matching director’s chair. It was about five thirty in the afternoon and the sun was already completely down. The temperatures were dropping and I was growing concerned about my ability to remain calm in such frigid conditions. I simply wasn’t built for cold.
“Well, judging from the fact that they’ve still got two pages to shoot before we arrive in the scene, I’m going to go with no. Sorry.”
“Damn it. I was afraid you were going to say that. I say we make a break for it. I think there’s a hot toddy somewhere with my name on it. No one will miss us. Are you with me?”
Adrienne looked over at me, clearly enjoying my distress. “Jenna, it’s twenty-eight degrees out, and there’s a few flurries in the air. I would hardly call this a blizzard. You can do this.”
“Speak for yourself. I don’t like snow.”
“Aren’t you from Boston?”
“Yes, and I didn’t like snow there either.”
“Tell you what, why don’t you drink some more hot chocolate? It’ll make you feel better.”
“Adrienne, I’m going to level with you. If I drink any more hot chocolate you’re going to have to play back my scenes in slow motion. My sugar level is already through the roof. How is it you’re so calm? I’m expecting a family of Eskimos to walk past us at any moment followed by their friends, a waddle of penguins.” I realized my tone was verging on childlike and petulant, but it simply couldn’t be helped. These particular working conditions were torturous as far as I was concerned.
“All right, all right, you’ve forced my hand,” Adrienne said. “Come here.”
“What?” I asked, completely confused.
She held her arms open and gestured with her head for me to move into her chair in front of her. “Body heat. We can keep each other warm.”
I literally leapt at the idea, desperate to try anything. I moved quickly to sit in the front of Adrienne on her chair, nestled between her legs, my back against her stomach. She wrapped her arms around me from behind and I covered her arms with my own, settling in. It was nice to snuggle up to someone else when the weather was getting the best of me. I shivered once and instinctively pulled her arms tighter around me, already feeling a bit more warmth, and maybe a butterfly or two in my stomach at Adrienne’s close proximity. God, not this again.
“Better?” she asked, her mouth close to my ear.
“A little, yeah. Thanks.” And it was, in more ways than one. Stop it, I told myself. These thoughts were not okay. Adrienne was off limits. She was my friend now. A highly attractive friend, who apparently still used the same melon-scented shampoo she did when she was with me.
“Now you just need to think about heat.”
“Heat?” I managed, swallowing hard.
“Yeah. For example, imagine yourself sitting in front of a fire, the warmth from the flames caressing your cheek. If you do a good enough job of imagining, you’ll begin to feel warmer. It’s psychological.”
“Okay. I like this game of yours.” I forced myself to relax and conjure up a scenario. “I’m going to imagine that I’m trapped in an incredible building explosion and fighting my way to safety.”
She whistled low. “Wow, that’s inventive and depressing. Not exactly the same technique, but whatever works for you.”
“Thank you for not judging me. You’re up.”
“All right. I’m imagining myself relaxing in a warm sauna where I will free myself of all the stresses in my life and watch them drift away one by one.”
“And I’m doing backbreaking work as cheap labor under the scorching summer sun.”
Adrienne sighed with exaggerated patience. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Jenna, but you suck at this game.”
“Hey! What happened to that non-judgment you were so great at a mere moment ago.”
“Out the window with your ‘backbreaking work’ contribution. We’re supposed to think of things that make us feel better, not physically oppressed.”
“I’m afraid you don’t appreciate my quirky outlook on life. I bet you would have let Kimberly imagine anything she wanted.”
“You’re right. I would have.”
I winced. “How are things going on that front? Any progress in your attempt to expose your darker side?”
“Negative. She’s out of town on business all next week. We’re scheduled for dinner the week after.”
“I see. And this would be date number…”
“Four.”
I turned around to face her in the chair. “Oh, Age, date number four is crucial. This could be the night that decides the rest of your life. Don’t blow it. Seriously.”
She glowered at me. “You’re teasing me again.” It was true, I was. I found it easier to tease Adrienne than to have a serious conversation about her love life. I didn’t like talking about it. I didn’t like the way it made me feel. And I didn’t like the questions it was making me ask myself. It was something I was working on.
“Who? Me? I would never.” I turned away from her, feigning interest in the crew and the changes they were making to the lighting instruments.
“And neither would I,” Adrienne said innocently as she pulled back the collar on my shirt and dropped a handful of icy cold snow directly down my back. Unable to scream because of the working set, I leapt to my feet, taking in air and scrambling to free my clothing of the intruding snow. Knowing she’d otherwise be a sitting duck for retaliation, Adrienne quickly scampered away, laughing quietly, but I was faster. I caught her around the waist and pulled, bringing both of us down onto the snow-covered ground. Now in control, I was quick to offer payback. Holding her firmly in place with one hand, I grabbed a handful of snow and, despite her whispered pleas, dropped it down the front of her shirt. She squirmed and giggled, but I held her down unable to stop myself from laughing along with her. The noise we made, regardless of our attempts to stay quiet, garnered us several disapproving looks from nearby crew members. In response, I covered Adrienne’s mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughing protests. She returned the favor and we stayed that way until our laughter eventually subsided. In the end, we found ourselves lying there somewhat exhausted from the struggle.
A soft smile touched Adrienne’s lips as she stared at me. “And just for the record,” she said calmly, “I completely appreciate your quirky outlook on life.”
“Thank you.” I stood slowly and offered Adrienne my hand. We walked back to our chairs together, suddenly quiet, but this time opted to sit apart. For the rest of our wait on set, we didn’t say a whole lot. I stole a few sideways glances at Adrienne and made note of how pretty she looked with delicate snowflakes adorning her dark locks. Her cheeks showed hints of pink and her skin was as smooth as a lake after a storm. I wrapped my arms around myself in comfort, as it was, after all, very, very cold out.
*
“So I’m in town. Well, not quite yet, but in two weeks.”
“You’re what?” I asked in disbelief, walking the short length of my trailer, phone pressed to my ear.
“I’ll be in New York, and seeing as how you just so happen to be there too, I was thinking we could hang out. Maybe grab a bite. I miss seeing you.”
“Paige, that’s great. I would love to get together and hear about your project. When are you free?” Okay, so that wasn’t completely true. The concept of Paige was still a little daunting. I genuinely liked her, and though I found her very attractive, the expiration date on our arrangement had to be approaching and she would probably be looking for more. This was a scenario I wanted to avoid if at all possible. But in truth, it might be good for me to see Paige. Things on set had been harmonious, but a little too harmonious, and I was all sorts of confused. She might just be the welcome distraction I needed.
“Well, the little indie I’m shooting should wrap late afternoon on that Thursday. If all goes according to plan, I should be free by eight. We could grab dinner
and see where that takes us.”
“Done. It’d be nice to see a familiar face, especially yours. I’m scheduled to be done with the film by then, but I plan to hang out in New York until my friend Lanie’s wedding. I feel like I’ve been working so much it’s getting hard to imagine what the real world looks like.”
“Well, why don’t I pick you up at your hotel at eight thirty and we can venture out into it together? I’ll even let you pick the place.”
“I’ll see what I can come up with for us. See you then.”
I hung up and sat hard on the sofa and smiled. I was in need of the type of company Paige provided, I reminded myself. I decided to ignore the guilty feeling I had, as well as the nagging voice in my head that told me the reason I had so much steam to let off.
There was a knock on the trailer door and Dylan stuck his head inside. “Jenna, we need you in makeup. Are you set?”
“Yes, on my way.” I stood quickly and reached for the day’s pages of dialogue when an intense wave of dizziness hit me without warning. The world seemed to tilt abruptly and I grabbed hold of a nearby chair to steady myself, sitting back down into it. Dylan looked back at me alarmed.
“Jenna, are you all right? You look a little pale. Should I get a medic?”
“It’s nothing. I think I just got up too fast.”
“If you’re sure.” Concern still creased his forehead as he made his way down the steps of my trailer.
I wish that had been all it was, but two hours later, I was feeling like death warmed over. I felt my own forehead and realized I had developed a full-blown fever. My eyes were watery and my throat was severely sore. It felt as if I had swallowed razor blades. Whatever virus I’d picked up was certainly acting fast. I didn’t have the heart to leave work, especially when I still had two more scenes to shoot that day. I was a professional, and damn it, I was going to finish the day if it killed me. I could crash back at the hotel later, but work came first and I had to find a way to get through it.
Sky looked over at me from across the couch we were sharing in my character’s tiny, stark apartment. “You don’t look so great, Jenna. Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“I’m fine. Let’s try to get this in as few takes as possible. I think I’ve come down with something.”
“That I can do. We’ll get you out of here in no time.”
Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for me. Several flubbed lines and five takes later, Frank approached me and pulled me aside gently by my elbow. “You’re not yourself, darling. Are you all right?”
“It’s nothing,” I answered quickly. “I’m a little under the weather, but I can push through.”
Frank took an immediate step backward, his hands held up in sharp defense against whatever germ might jump off my body in that moment. “Absolutely not. Take the day. We don’t need a set full of infected people.” He strode back to Dylan, ready to rearrange the day’s shooting because of my decided absence.
“It’s not that bad, Frank. I can—”
“Off my set, Jenna,” he barked at me over his shoulder. “Come back healthy and we’ll pick up where we left off.” His tone didn’t leave a lot of room for argument and I stood there staring back at him, defeated.
A short time later, I found myself alone in my hotel room feeling absolutely miserable and staring at the ceiling. I would have thrown an orange, but I simply didn’t have the energy. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t have the energy for that either. I thought briefly about calling my mother, knowing her voice would soothe and comfort me, but I reminded myself I was a grown-up now and quite capable of taking care of myself when I was sick. I sighed and reached for the water on my bedside table. I took a few gentle swallows and winced as my throat throbbed with pain. I now cursed myself for not stopping by the drugstore for some over-the-counter meds, but I’d stubbornly convinced myself I was fine. The truth of it was, I rarely got sick and apparently overestimated myself.
It was mid evening and I was wishing for a gun to put an end to my misery when I heard a keycard in the door. Puzzled and alarmed by the intrusion, I made an effort to sit up, not really sure what I would do in terms of defending myself if someone was there to do me harm. However, the overwhelming pain in my head quickly changed those plans and I lay back down on the pillow. Let them take me.
“Knock, knock,” a very quiet, though familiar voice whispered. “Can I come in?”
Adrienne. “At your own risk,” I managed to croak. “But I have to warn you, it isn’t pretty.”
“So I heard you weren’t feeling so hot,” she said sympathetically, coming further into the room and sitting at the foot of my bed. Adrienne was dressed casually in jeans and a white short sleeve T-shirt. Her hair was twisted simply and pinned up and out of the way, a few long strands fell delicately onto her forehead. She looked so everyday, so casual, so healthy. She was a welcome sight if there ever was one. At her side was a large handled grocery bag that she set gently on the floor next to the bed. “Have you taken anything?”
“No. I should have gone by the store, but I thought I was immune to this kind of thing.” I made an effort to prop myself on my elbows in an attempt to be somewhat hospitable to my visitor.
Adrienne placed her open palm on my forehead to ascertain my temperature. Her hand felt cool and refreshing against my heated skin. She looked at me grimly. “Well, you’re certainly sporting a little fever there. Lucky for you, I came equipped.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol. “Take two of these for now, and if you’re not better tomorrow, we’ll have the studio send over a doctor.”
I complied with her order and lay back in bed, tired from the short endeavor. “Thanks for stopping by. You didn’t have to.”
“I know I didn’t have to, but I was worried about you. You’re a ways from home.”
I nodded my agreement and closed my eyes. I felt a wave of sleepiness drift over me, but realizing it would be rude to fall asleep when Adrienne had gone out of her way to visit me, I forced my eyes open.
Adrienne brushed a few stray hairs from my forehead and spoke to me softly. “What you need to do, Jenna, is try and get some sleep, okay? Your body needs rest right now.”
“Okay,” I breathed, already on my way there. “You don’t have to stay.”
I heard her answer me, but her voice was thin and distant. “I know. Just sleep for now.” Cool fingers brushed across my forehead urging me to rest. I took comfort in that touch and floated into slumber.
When I awoke sometime later, the room was dark accept for the small desk lamp. The digital clock on the bedside table informed me it was three a.m. I reached slowly for the glass of water on my bedside table and was surprised when it was gently handed to me. My eyes focused on the nearby figure and made out Adrienne sitting in the leather club chair next to the bed.
“How are you feeling?”
I took stock at her question. The truth was I felt markedly better than the last time I’d spoken to her. “My throat still hurts, but my headache is gone.”
“I think we were able to curb the fever with the meds and some rest. How about a little soup? I’m guessing you didn’t eat dinner.” She reached into her grocery bag and pulled out a black, shiny thermos.
“Where’d you get that?” I asked.
“From my apartment. I made up a batch of chicken noodle before I came over. Special recipe, guaranteed to make you feel stronger. You may not know this about me, but I’m quite the chef.”
“Is there anything you can’t do?” I wondered aloud.
“Math. I suck at math.”
“Doubtful. I can’t believe you did all this for me.”
“You would do the same for me.”
“I would. But you’d have to settle for Campbell’s. I’m not whipping up the Martha Stewart stuff.”
“I think I can deal with that. Now sit up and have a few bites of this.”
I took the spoon she handed me and the small round thermos.
While it took some effort to swallow, once I did I was in utter amazement. “This is good, Adrienne. I’m not just saying that. Oh my God.”
“I know. I spent a lot of time perfecting that recipe over the years. As good as penicillin, if you ask me.”
“Probably better.” I ate a few more bites, and amazing as the soup was, it was all I could manage. My throat was still quite painful, even though the medicine had taken the edge off a bit. Adrienne took the thermos and spoon and placed them on the bedside table, should I want more later.
“Try and get some more sleep, okay? We’ll see how you feel in the morning.” I nodded my head and slowly closed my eyes, comforted by her presence. I felt safe, secure, and looked after.
The sun greeted me with gusto at around eight thirty a.m., and as I slowly made my way into a sitting position, I saw a pink note next to me on the bed along with a small white bag.
Good morning, Sickie. I hope you’re feeling at least a little bit better this morning. I had to head to work, but I left you a croissant from the bakery downstairs and there’s some orange juice in your mini-fridge. Try to eat something so you can keep your strength up and take another dose of the Tylenol on your bedside table. I’ll let the studio know you need the day. Feel better. Thinking about you.
—A.
I folded the note into thirds and placed it in the drawer next to my bed. The croissant was still somewhat warm so she couldn’t have left too terribly long ago. I realized that the aroma of fresh bread must be what heaven smelled like. I ate it slowly, tentatively, and was happy to report I felt a tad better. I moved to my fridge and found the orange juice Adrienne had left me. I drank it down entirely, feeling stronger. I spent the rest of the day watching daytime television and napping interchangeably. I was still a little drained.
Waiting in the Wings Page 17
