Despite how self-deprecating that is, Bennett knows sitting back and watching one of her childhood dreams come true merits a certain level of apprehension. Something so close to the heart always comes with the prospect of collateral damage if it ends up falling short of expectations. That’s supposed to be the point of her routine: to keep her distracted from everything that can go wrong by compartmentalizing all that gut-wrenching anxiety into organized, scheduled, daily activities. It’s all very Zen.
Actually, it’s all still absolutely terrifying.
Especially since today happens to be the day Bennett has been dreading for five months now.
Her run on the beach this morning was colder than usual. The warmth of the hotel lobby hits her as soon as she walks through the automatic doors, her sweatshirt and leggings clinging damply to her skin as she waits for the elevator.
Emmy is already in Bennett’s room, tapping away on her iPad, when Bennett keys in.
“Morning, B,” her assistant says, smiling warmly when she glances up. “You doin’ all right?”
“Good,” Bennett replies, and they both know it’s a lie.
Emmy Akers is the sole reason Bennett hasn’t completely lost her mind yet. For real. Bennett had been so against the idea of getting a personal assistant when her literary agent suggested it to her last summer, but she’ll be the first to admit now how much of a mess her life would be had her literary agent not flown Emmy to Charlotte in August for an interview. After talking with her for only ten minutes, Bennett hired her on the spot and hasn’t looked back since.
“Your e-mail’s a little crazy this morning—you want the rundown now?” Emmy asks.
Five minutes later, she sits on the bathroom counter while Bennett showers, reading out all the new e-mails from lit agents and editors and producers and publishers. Bennett does her best to answer questions about how the final chapters for Off the Grid are coming and whether she’ll be available this summer to go on another book tour … but mainly, she tries not to hyperventilate under the shower spray.
Today is January sixteenth. But that’s the only acknowledgment she’s allowing herself.
“One of the producers e-mailed and said your trailer is ready—we can pick up the keys whenever,” Emmy says absently, then adds, “Oh, and Burt said he already has a fresh copy of the script for you to take notes on for the first table-read this morning, so no need to bring one.”
Bennett leans her head against the shower wall and squeezes her eyes shut, and Emmy segues into some logistical stuff about a big book signing they’re having here next month, during which Bennett may or may not zone out a bit.… She gives herself a pass, though, since she’s starting to feel nauseous.
“B? Still with me?” Emmy says after a moment.
Bennett can’t remember if she’s washed her hair yet, so she reaches for her shampoo. “Yep. What’s next?”
“I think that’s about it for now,” her assistant says. There’s a tiny trace of hesitation there before she asks, “So—um. You wanna talk about it?”
Bennett’s fingers are still in her hair, suds running down her forehead and almost into her eyes. She knows exactly where this is going, but there’s no way anyone’s going to see any cracks in her facade today. Not even Emmy.
“Talk about what?” she asks, peeking out from behind the shower curtain.
Emmy gathers her dirty-blond hair up into a ponytail, then lets it drop past her shoulders again. “The actors getting here today?” she says gently, looking a little uncomfortable. The steam from the shower is fogging up the lenses of her glasses. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to, like, talk about it before we go to the meeting this morning, or…”
Bennett closes the shower curtain. “I’m good. No worries.”
Emmy doesn’t say anything else, and Bennett knows it’s because she doesn’t want to overstep. Emmy’s a top-notch assistant and an even better person to confide in. Bennett doesn’t like shutting her out like this, but she’s terrified that if she actually does bring herself to talk about what Emmy’s hinting at, it’ll just solidify that Bennett is in no way, shape, or form prepared to deal with it.
She shuts the water off and reaches for a towel. “Did we get today’s newspaper?”
* * *
They stop to get coffee on the way to set, even though Bennett pumping caffeine into her system probably isn’t the best call given the meeting she’s about to attend. Emmy rides shotgun, skimming through Bennett’s social media accounts instead of talking, so Bennett downs half her latte and actively tries to keep her thoughts away from what’s coming.
This is fine. Everything is fine. Bennett will not freak out.
So what if the actors are arriving on set today? Bennett already hates herself for getting this worked up about it—all the effort she made toward not caring during the past five months feels like it’s working against her now.
“So, you’ve only got a few events to attend over the next eight weeks,” Emmy says while Bennett parks her car. “I wanted to keep your schedule as open as possible so you can be on set as much as you can. Should any conflicts come up, we’ll work around them.”
Bennett takes a deep breath, pushing back against the staticky nerves filling up her heart and lungs. “We’ll figure it out, Em. It’s not like they need me around for filming.”
“But, Burt wants you here! And it’s so important that you be as involved as you can, you know?” Emmy insists. “I know I keep saying it, but you getting to be this hands-on is so, so unprecedented.”
Unprecedented.
“No, you’re right,” Bennett says, shouldering open the driver’s side door. Every inch of her is already alive and electric with anxiety, and she just doesn’t have it in her to debate this with Emmy right now, regardless of how much she wants to disagree.
Film sets, Bennett has learned, are just a random assortment of warehouses, trailers, and parking lots. Their set’s meetings trailer sits between the cast trailers and what Bennett has been told is going to be a cafeteria. There are always people hanging around outside, either on the phone or smoking cigarettes, but there are noticeably more people milling around this morning—people Bennett doesn’t recognize from around set during the past week.
Bennett will not freak out. She’s a professional. She can handle this.
She forces herself to walk up the trailer steps and pull open the door, letting Emmy go in ahead of her.
A few producers are already sitting around the makeshift table in the middle of the trailer—it’s actually four smaller tables pushed together to make an even bigger one. It seems too bright inside. Too bright and too warm. Bennett won’t allow herself to look at anything but the floor while she gets her bearings, and she’s just psyched herself up enough to walk around the table to her usual spot next to Burt when she realizes someone is already in her seat. He’s slumped in his chair, head down as he sifts through the pile of papers in front of him, and Bennett barely has time to think Please, God, please no before the guy looks up.
She stops walking altogether.
All the madness Bennett’s wrestled with for the past five months finally comes crashing down on her in the half second their eyes meet. Every available emotion calibrates to the sudden influx of proximity, with Bennett’s heart climbing up into her throat like it’s preset to close as much distance between it and him as possible. It’s hard to breathe. And when he smiles at her, Bennett can’t decide what’s more infuriating: that he looks way too happy to see her, or that all the goddamned butterflies she managed to chase off from that weekend in July have come swarming back in triple the numbers.
Bennett manages to get her legs working again. She makes a hard right toward the opposite side of the table, aiming for the farthest seat away.
“Bennett,” Burt calls out, just as she’s pulling out the chair caddy-corner from him. “I need you over here with us.”
Three days. This is all because of three days back in July.
God,
catching feelings for someone is a fucking nightmare.
“You remember Teddy from auditions over the summer, right?” Burt asks when Bennett sits down next to him. The director leans back in his chair, and Bennett finally comes face-to-face with the scruffy-haired bane of her existence on the other side.
“Great to see you again, Bennett,” Teddy says, and his grin widens like he can sense how much her heart jumps when he says her name. Bennett glares at him.
God … he looks good.
Like—really good. Bennett despises herself for admitting it.
His hair is longer than the last time she saw him, and the angles in his jaw and around his face are sharper, like he spent the last few months getting cut for his Parachutes role instead of doing whatever, with whomever … Bennett stops herself there.
“Good to see you, too,” she says, switching her attention to the new copy of the script Burt pushes in front of her. There’s absolutely no way she’s going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how easily he can get under her skin. And if her game face has to start with fake-smiling at the wall behind him instead of looking him in the eye, then so be it.
“I was just telling Teddy about our script approach,” Burt says, oblivious to the tension ricocheting back and forth in front of him. Even inside, Burt still wears a pair of black Ray-Bans. They’re completely at odds with his white hair and mustache. “Since today’s the first table-read, I think it should be the most improv-oriented so we can make notes and adjust accordingly.”
“Sounds good,” Bennett says—thinks she says, at least. She can’t hear herself over her own pulse roaring in her eardrums.
This is so unfair. Teddy Sharpe isn’t allowed to still have this kind of control over her emotions.
“All right, people, take a seat if you haven’t. I don’t think everyone’s here yet, but we can get introductions out of the way in the meantime,” Burt says, standing to address the room. “I’m Burt Bridges, the director. I’ve directed a few indie movies over the past few years and had a couple go to Sundance. This is my fourth major picture, and I’m excited to get started.”
He sits back down and, unfortunately, looks to his right, meaning Bennett has to go last.
“Oh, yeah,” Teddy says after a moment. “What’s going on, guys—I’m Teddy Sharpe. I’m playing the role of Jack, which I’m superstoked about.”
Bennett stares at the cover page of her script as they go around the room. Most of the people sitting at the table are either different types of producers or members of the crew. They give similar introductions to Burt’s, with some of them name-dropping a few of the bigger movies they’ve worked on in the past. It’s all ridiculously intimidating, and they get a little more than halfway around the table when the trailer door flies open.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” a tall brunette huffs, sweeping into the room and shrugging out of her winter coat.
“That’s all right, Olivia. Come on in,” Burt says. “How about you introduce yourself before you get seated?”
An award-winning, megawatt, million-dollar smile appears on her face.
“Oh, I’d love to! Hi, everyone—I’m Olivia Katsaros and I will be playing the role of Katherine Rawlins, the lead female protagonist.” She announces it like she’s doing everyone a favor, then sits down in the only open seat left at the table.
Bennett sits very still for a moment.
That’s the girl who’s supposed to be playing Katherine.…
Katherine, who’s going to be involved in plenty of heavy make-out scenes with Jack …
Bennett didn’t think there was any room left on her emotional tab, but apparently exceptions can always be made for jealousy. Seeing Olivia in person is the perfect reminder that the next two months are going to be such a blast—and it’s all Bennett’s fault. She couldn’t attend the auditions for Katherine in August because she had a small book promo tour already scheduled. When Burt sent her a headshot of Olivia Katsaros, Bennett almost told him she looked nothing like Katherine’s character, and that’s still true now.
Katherine is supposed to be relatively plain-looking, with short brown hair and somewhat boyish features. Real-life Olivia is even more stunning in person. She’s probably at least half a foot taller than Bennett, with gorgeously thick brown hair and legs. Based on the olive skin and the accent she used pronouncing her last name, Bennett figures Olivia’s just a notch of mortality below Greek Goddess Barbie. And that’s a massive issue.
Burt had insisted Olivia was the right person to cast.
Bennett had trusted him on that decision.
Now, Bennett’s stuck somewhere between wishing she said something to Burt about his casting choices sooner and absolutely hating herself for getting jealous over this. Of course she’d thought about what would happen on the days when they have to film those intimate scenes—the reality of the situation just hadn’t sunken in until Olivia Katsaros walked into the meetings trailer. Bennett is not down for girl-on-girl rivalries—way too cliché, especially over a guy—but Jesus Christ. The playing field is so uneven now it might as well be a cliff.
It’s only a playing field if Bennett chooses to participate, though, and she made the decision to take herself out of the game months ago.
Burt’s elbow digs into her forearm. Bennett glances up to find everyone at the table looking back at her. “Right, sorry,” she stammers out, going hot around the ears. “Hey, everyone. I’m Bennett Caldwell. I wrote the Parachutes book series, and I’ve also been helping out with the script.”
She stops short from thanking everyone for being there, wishing she had the guts right now to say something like, Hey, thanks for uprooting your lives to come work on this story with us. It means more to me than you’ll ever know. She already feels childish and out of place as it is.
“Now, filming begins Friday, and the scene Teddy and Olivia are going to read through today is one of the first ones we’ll be shooting,” Burt says, pulling out a legal pad. “Today’s focus is going to be more on getting the actors comfortable with each other and the script.…”
Speaking of childish—Bennett tries to listen during the next few minutes of the meeting. She really does. But when Burt stands to walk around for a bit, leaving a huge, gaping mess of empty space next to her, it’s hard not to think about what’s happening on the other side of that space.
It’s like Teddy’s trying to get her to look over.
Tapping his fingers on the table. Clearing his throat every two seconds. Ruffling the pages of his script.… Bennett already knows the dude fidgets like nobody’s business, but God, he’s basically flailing all over the place.
“I thought we could start the read at the top of page fifty-four,” Burt says, eventually taking his seat back and opening his script. “The altercation scene between Katherine and Jack, when they’re reunited after Katherine sneaks away for an assignment without telling anyone. You guys cool with that?”
No objections.
Bennett, on the other hand, wonders what she did in a past life to deserve this, because of course Burt picked this scene for the read—the one scene in the entire movie involving a tension-filled reunion between the male and female leads, fueled by the fact that neither of them is willing to admit the feelings they have for the other.
“Oh, I love this scene! So much emotional and sexual tension. It’s fabulous,” Olivia says, clapping her hands. Which—she would.
“We left a lot of room in the script’s structure for improvisation,” Burt explains while everyone flips to the right page. “But—and I’ll say this to the other actors as well, Teddy and Olivia—while improv is welcomed and encouraged, we want you to mostly build on the original dialogue to fit preferred speech patterns. Plot points need to stay as is, please. Any questions?”
“Yes, actually.” Olivia speaks up. “I saw a note in my script that you’d prefer Katherine to come off more subdued than how she is in the book? I’m not sure I agree with that approach.”
&n
bsp; Burt replies, “Most of her personality is projected through her first-person narration, which we had trouble translating into the script, since her actual dialogue in the book is more reserved.”
“Yeah, but that’s no reason to cut out one of her key characteristics,” Olivia argues. “One of the reasons I wanted this role so badly was because of Katherine’s robust personality. I think it’d be a bit of a disservice to both the character and her author if we don’t at least try to bring in that element.”
Bennett takes a time-out from her pending anxiety attack and raises her eyebrows.
Maybe Greek Goddess Barbie isn’t as bad as she thought?
Burt presses a finger to his mustache. “How about you read Katherine the way you pictured her for now, I’ll make a few notes, and then you, Bennett, and I schedule a time to sit down and talk about it before Friday?”
Olivia looks pleased with that answer.
“Okay. Teddy, you wanna start at the top of fifty-four for me?” Burt asks after jotting something down on his legal pad.
“Katherine,” he begins, before Bennett has time to prepare. “Were you even going to tell me you were back? Or were you going to let me find out on my own, like when you left to go on this suicide heist by yourself?”
Olivia sighs dramatically. “I’ve been back twenty minutes—nineteen of which were spent getting chewed out by Commander Mitchell. At least gimme a sec before you start into yours.”
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe you wouldn’t have gotten chewed out by Mitchell had you told someone where you were going?”
“Guess not. Didn’t think anyone would be up for it, anyway.”
“I would have, had you told me. It’s protocol—”
“Protocol,” Olivia snaps, pointing across the table, “is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
“Why, because you thought it wouldn’t look as cool if you let someone help you on this? Seriously, Katherine? I don’t get whatever fixation you have on being a badass, because nowhere in the job description does it say ‘Must be badass at all times.’”
Love Scene, Take Two Page 13
