I thought a lot about Adrienne’s thoughtful nature and how appreciative I was of her taking care of me the night before. About midday, I received a text message from Adrienne who was on set.
“How’s the patient?” she wrote.
“Better. Thank you. Will be back to work tomorrow.”
“Glad to hear it. I was worried.”
“I hope I wasn’t too much trouble.”
“Never.”
*
After losing two days of shooting my scenes, the production was in catch-up mode that whole next week, and I was working longer hours than ever to make up the difference. As a result, I was too exhausted to go out for drinks with the others and mostly just crashed at the hotel each night after the long day of shooting.
Adrienne and I seemed to be on opposite schedules as well and though we were both on the property at the same time, we never seemed to cross paths. I wanted to thank her in person for taking care of me while I was sick, but the Universe had other ideas. We’d texted a couple of times throughout the week, joking about the phantom nature of our existence on set together. In actuality, I missed her.
We had just finished shooting a fight scene between me and Michelle and I was beyond drained on both an emotional level and a physical one. It was a long scene and had taken the better part of the day to shoot. The sun was down and I was in need of a meal and a bed pronto. I still didn’t have all my energy back yet and that was surely a contributing factor. As we walked down the studio lot to our trailer, Michelle and I chatted idly.
“Have you taken a look at any of the dailies from this week?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Nope. I hate watching myself. I’ll check them out if I’m struggling with the material or the character, but only if I find myself stuck. Why? Have you seen any?”
“I went yesterday and I’ve got to say, the raw footage looks pretty good. This film might actually go somewhere. I heard the studio likes what they’re seeing and is talking about a wider release than originally projected. This could be big.”
I was happy to hear her report. You never knew if you were doing a good job while you were shooting a film. With live theater, you got an immediate read on the audience and had a basic understanding of how the show was being received. The reaction to your work was instantaneous and could be judged in laughs, gasps, sighs, and applause. Working on a film, you weren’t afforded that same system of checks and balances. It was like throwing darts at a dartboard after someone has blindfolded you. There was a lot of guesswork involved. You trusted your director to point you in the right direction and you went for it, but it could cause you to question your own ability at times.
“God, I needed to hear that, Michelle. It’s exactly the shot in the arm I need to keep going in my current alternating modes of ‘tired’ and ‘tireder,’ which I don’t even think is a word. Can you believe we only have a week left? I’m going to miss everyone.”
“I’m not. I plan on taking you all home with me.” She wrapped an arm around me as we walked. “It’ll be fun. We can start our own sitcom. I plan to call it Michelle and the Others. Sound good?”
“It sounds like my kind of gig. I’ll have my agent call yours.”
“Deal. But in the meantime”—she gestured down the street a bit with a toss of her head—“it looks like we’ve got company.”
And we did. Standing on the stairs of my trailer, speaking animatedly into a phone was a very sleek, very alluring, very angry looking Adrienne. She was wearing low-slung jeans, a red Henley top, and high-heeled boots. I couldn’t have designed a better looking outfit for her. I exhaled slowly at the visceral reaction I was having yet again and cursed myself silently. As we approached, however, I moved beyond my teenage boy reaction and realized I was genuinely happy to see Adrienne.
As she spotted Michelle and me, she waved and pointed to the phone, rolling her eyes. We nodded our understanding and waited patiently for her to wrap up the call.
“I’ll give you a call when I know more…No, I understand what it is you want me to do, but these are decisions I make for myself now. You have to get used to this and let go…I don’t want to go into it, Mama. My friends are here now. Can we please talk about this later?…Okay, but later…Yes, I understand you’re trying to help, but maybe don’t try so hard. Okay…Okay…Okay. Good-bye.”
I winced sympathetically. “Your mother?”
“None other.” She tucked her phone into her back pocket and afforded me one of the biggest, most radiant Adrienne smiles I’d seen to date. “Hi, stranger. You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.” She moved down the stairs and pulled me into a gentle hug.
“Thanks to you,” I answered, breathing in her scent, a mixture of melon shampoo and Chanel perfume.
She released me and took a step back, studying me with obvious concern. “Hey, have you been crying?”
“Yep.” I nudged Michelle next to me. “This one’s worked up quite an addiction to prescription pills and I felt the need to confront her. It got emotional.” Michelle looked at me and nodded her agreement apologetically.
“Ah. You just shot the fight scene. Got it.”
“And guess who won?” Michelle asked, smiling triumphantly and pumping her fist as she headed down the street to her own trailer.
“There are still scenes to shoot, my dear,” I called back to her, chuckling. “It’s not over.” I shook my head and turned my attention back to Adrienne. “What are you still doing on the property?” I led the way up the steps of my trailer. “Production’s wrapped for today. I figured you’d be out living it up in the big city, popular girl that you are.”
“I was on my way out and decided to stick around and say hey. We’ve been on weird schedules lately, and with you being sick…I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to see you. Is that okay?”
“It’s more than okay.” I smiled back at her, my insides doing a little tap dance at the thought of her wanting to see me. It was becoming clear to me that I had some feelings for Adrienne that it was time I started to acknowledge. In actuality, it wasn’t the craziest thing in the world if I thought about it. Adrienne was a pretty great person, someone I had a previous emotional connection to, not to mention she was a bit of a head turner. The math was simple. But the fact of the matter was we’d tried it before and it hadn’t worked out. I had gotten hurt, and that hurt was enough to keep me from jumping into anything serious with a woman since. “So how’s Linda?”
“In rare form,” she grumbled, plopping onto the sofa and pulling her legs up underneath her. “I made the mistake of telling her about the Cabaret offer. She’s dead set against it. She says it would be a horrible career move and like taking a step backward from all I’ve accomplished. Plus, she says the role’s too difficult for me.” She looked crestfallen and her voice was just above a whisper when she spoke again. “She says I’ll embarrass myself, Jenna.”
I met her eyes, my heart breaking for her. She looked so sad, so dejected. I took her hand in mine. “You know that’s not true, Adrienne. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You’ve said it before; she’s all about the money, and this project wouldn’t come with too many dollar signs. Of course she’s going to try and talk you out of it. We could have predicted that.”
“I know that, trust me, I do. But she’s my mom. Why can’t she just be that and say something nice to me for once? She could tell I was excited about this possibility, but she didn’t care. Nothing I do will ever be good enough. Clean Slate was an amazing experience for me. I loved seeing the impact the show had on young girls, but my mom called it fluff.” A tear made its way down her cheek.
“Come here.” I pulled her into my arms and held her as she cried, stroking her hair while she got it all out. “No one deserves that, Adrienne, and least of all you. You’re the sweetest, most caring person I know, and don’t get me started on how talented you are. You know my stance on that particular topic.” I pulled back so I could see her fully. “Promise me
something.”
She looked back at me as she wiped the tears from her face.
“Promise me you will do what’s right for you, not what Linda thinks is right for you or what I think is right for you, or anyone else for that matter. Follow your heart and know that whatever decision you make, I’ll support you completely and so will your millions of fans across the globe.” She laughed, and I internally patted myself on the back for eliciting a smile.
“I think a million is a tad lofty.”
I gently shook her chin. “No way.”
Adrienne gulped in some air and gently tilted her head to the side, regarding me. “Thank you for listening to me. I didn’t have any intention of unloading on you like this when I came here, and I don’t know why I did. I just felt…”
“Comfortable?”
She nodded her head. “Yeah. I guess that’s it.”
“I’m here for you whenever you need me. Remember that.”
“Me too,” she said softly. She smiled and stood, straightening her clothes.
“That’s a great outfit by the way. I vote yes.”
She smiled again. Yay.
“Thanks. I’m heading over to the jazz bar. I promised Oscar I’d sit in for a few songs. Stop by if you’d like.”
I weighed this option and decided it would not be the best move. Wine, a dimly lit bar, and Adrienne, who I’d just held in my arms, singing sultry love songs seemed like a dangerous scenario for our newly minted friendship.
“I’d like to, but I have a prior commitment.”
“Another time then.” She opened the door and descended the stairs. “Thanks again, Jenna. It helped talking to you.”
“Anytime.”
*
The following Wednesday rolled around and I was doubly sad that shooting was coming to an end. Working on this particular film had been unique. No movie I’d worked on in the past had been as social. Today would be the last day on set for me and I was feeling a little glum to see it all end. I sat in the makeup trailer singing Pink songs at the top of my lungs with Tammy for the very last time, while typing her contact information into my phone.
She put the finishing touches on my look. “Gorgeous.”
I surveyed myself in the mirror. I looked very girl next door today. The scene we were shooting was a flash forward that shows where my character ends up, essentially starting at the bottom and working her way up in the magazine world. Gone were the designer clothes and perfect hair and makeup. She was growing up. I liked the lessons Sara learned along the way and tried to take something from her character arc to apply to my own life. The parallel, in this case, being that the glitzy, higher profile life of film had been great, but I missed the less glamorous world of theater. Latham had made me a promise that if I did the film, he’d help me find my way back to stage work, but now that the time had come, I was feeling less than sure. I hadn’t been onstage in three and a half years, and my body had taken so much time off from dancing that I didn’t know how to rebound from that.
I talked to Michelle about it later that day on a break from shoot-ing. “Jen, you’ve done this kind of thing since you were a kid, right?”
“Right.” I settled into the canvas director’s chair. “It’s just been so long.”
“I’m sure it’s like riding a bike. Have faith in yourself. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. That’s what my dad always says.”
Michelle and her dad were probably right, but all the same, I had psyched myself out and the damage seemed done. Plus, why mess with a good thing? Film work had paid off for me and brought me more success than anything else ever had. It would be slowing the momentum I had going, and that wasn’t exactly productive. Okay, so even I wasn’t buying this bullshit, but it’s what I was going with.
We were nearing my very last shot on Phase Two and I was getting antsy. I didn’t really want to say good-bye to these people. I would miss them all dearly and that included Adrienne. There was an undeniable connection between us, and I realized maybe we were meant to be in each other’s lives in some way. As I stood waiting to be called for the shot, I watched Adrienne survey the action from the chair next to mine. The light was waning, which caused an extra surge of panic for the crew to get the shot off in time. But in the midst of it all, she sat there serene and patient. I couldn’t help my captivation. Her eyes were luminous and her mouth offered a slight smile to the familiar faces bustling around us. I couldn’t stop watching her and she must have sensed it. She met my eyes. I shifted my focus to my lap, embarrassed at having been caught staring.
“Hey,” she said quietly, “what’s up?”
“I’m sad to see this all end.”
She nodded. “I think the film’s going to be everything we hoped it would be.”
“I think so too. But I was talking more about the people. I’m going to miss everyone, present company included by the way.” I stole a glance at her.
She shook her head slowly in disbelief, considering her words. “I never thought I’d be sitting here with you like this again, years later. You know, talking, or not talking, but at ease with each other. It makes me happy to have you around again.” She placed her fingers on my chin and forced me to meet her gaze. “You know that, right?”
“I know,” I managed.
“Which reminds me,” she said, standing. She pulled a folded up piece of paper from her pocket. “I was going to wait until after you’d wrapped to give this to you, but now seems better. Open it.”
I accepted the square of paper she placed in my hand and unfolded it. Right away I recognized her handwriting. There was an address at the top of the page and a list of dates and times, all within the next six weeks. “What is this?” I asked.
“That’s the address of the rehearsal studio I rented for you three times a week for the next month and a half. The dates and times are all there, as well as some information on a new show you should take a look at.” I regarded her questioningly. “It’s a dance show Rory Linden is opening in New York. It might be just what you’re looking for.” I’d heard of the show she was referring to, Elevation. It’d been getting a lot of buzz in the trades, and Rory Lynden was an innovative choreographer. In the back of my head, I’d wondered if there could be something for me in that show. It didn’t have to be much, just enough to get my feet wet again. She took my hand and continued earnestly. “You need to get back out there, but I know you, and you’ll want to be ready first. You said you hadn’t danced in a while, and I think that’s a waste. You would never have done this for yourself so I’ve done it for you. No more excuses.”
I was amazed. In fact, my hands were shaking. I didn’t know what to say. It might have been the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me. There was a lump in my throat, and I wasn’t sure I could speak without betraying the emotion I felt, so I made an excuse for a quick exit. “Thank you,” I said simply. “Um, I better go. I think they’re ready for me.”
We shot the scene in just under an hour. Adrienne sat in her chair and watched the whole time. In actuality, she didn’t have to be on set. She wasn’t scheduled to shoot until later that day, but instead of relaxing in her trailer, she watched my scene and sent an occasional smile my way. She was a silent source of support, and for a little while I remembered what that felt like to have someone in my corner.
“Ladies and gentleman, that’s a wrap for Jenna McGovern!” Dylan called out. I smiled as the crew broke into applause, hugging me and patting my back as I passed. I looked around for Adrienne to say good-bye, that I would see her at the wedding in a few weeks, and to thank her again for the beyond thoughtful gesture, but she was gone. Probably for the best, I thought as I ran my thumb over the folded sheet of paper in my back pocket.
Chapter Ten
Paige was true to her word and arrived at my hotel at eight thirty sharp the next day for our date. She was a refreshing sight, a reminder of my former life in LA and somewhat of a calming presence. Plus, she looked great. Her short brown hair was p
inned back in a fashionable clip, and the black cocktail dress she’d selected was killer. I was thrilled to see her. We’d embraced warmly and walked the ten blocks to the restaurant I’d selected for us, catching up along the way. I’d made the reservation at Ciao the week before and even then had to pull a few strings to get us in. I’d heard it was the up and coming Italian restaurant in the city, nestled outside the theater district in Hell’s Kitchen.
Once we arrived, there was only a moment’s wait for our table, and I studied the décor, finding it just the right spot for a little one-on-one time with Paige. The tablecloths were white, the chairs were sleek and black, and the intimate two-tiered dining space was moderately illuminated with a soft glow from the two open fireplaces in each corner of the room. It was perfect for the evening I had in mind for Paige and me, or at least the first part of the evening I had in mind.
I placed my hand on the small of her back as we were directed to our table by the very serious looking maître d’. He brought us to a two-person table at the back of the restaurant, and though the place was small, we were slightly distanced from the hustle and bustle of the doorway and its traffic with only a few neighboring tables. Nice. It wasn’t until we were seated and handed our menus that I caught Paige blatantly staring at the table closest to ours. Curious, I followed her gaze and froze on what, or rather who, I saw staring back at me.
“Isn’t that Adrienne Kenyon from your shoot?” Paige asked loudly, always one for decorum. Over at Adrienne’s table, it looked like she was having a very similar conversation with her companion who’d obviously noticed us as well.
“Um, yeah, it is. I wonder what she’s doing here.” But in truth, I knew immediately what she was doing there. She was seated with an attractive redhead. This was clearly the dinner date Adrienne had alluded to with Kimberly, the woman she’d been seeing. I cringed inwardly and was close to suggesting to Paige that she and I find another restaurant, but didn’t know how I would explain my reasoning to her, or Adrienne for that matter.
Waiting in the Wings Page 18
