Seeing Clearly

by Casey McMillin

  "Ms. McKay didn't send for clearance, Mr. Perrin. I'm sorry."

  I was sorry too, but mostly because I had no idea if Gretchen would agree to give me clearance even if we called her.

  "Max Mitchell can vouch for me if you contact him," I said, figuring a name like his could only help my case.

  "What about Ms. McKay? Which one are you here to see?" the guard asked. She was staring at me like she'd caught me in a lie.

  Deciding to keep it simple, I said, "I know both of them." I met her stare with one of my own. I wasn't about to get scared off. I already had my mind made up about seeing Gretchen today.

  "I'm afraid I can't let you through without clearance," she said. At least she had the decency to look sorry.

  I pulled into a nearby parking spot, getting my phone out of the console to call in a favor or two. I called my friend Paul Smith who owns the biggest pool chemical company in the country. I'd attended a charity function in the recent past that both he and Max Mitchell were at. I overheard Paul say that his and Max's kids were friends at whatever elite private school they went to.

  Me: "Hey, Paul, I'm glad you picked up. I need a favor. Can you put me in touch with Max Mitchell in the next five minutes?"

  Paul: "Shouldn't be a problem. Everything okay?"

  Me: "Yeah, I just need to get on the set of his show to surprise a friend."

  Paul: "Are you at the Paradise Island set?"

  Me: "Yes."

  Paul "At the main gate?"

  Me: "Yes?" I wondered where all this was going.

  Paul: "Is Bernie there? Tough old girl with aviators?"

  Me: "Yes! Please tell me you know her and you're about to give me some secret pass code or something."

  Paul: "I know her and I'm about to give you a secret pass code. She teaches my oldest son accordion lessons. He loves polka music of all things. He's been taking lessons from Bernie for over a year. She stays for dinner sometimes. I'll just shoot her a text. She'll buzz you through."

  Me: "That's pretty damn amazing, Paul. I'm glad I called you. I owe you one."

  Paul: "Think nothing of it. I'm glad I could help."

  By the time I pulled back up to the gate, Bernie had obviously heard the news about me being legit. She smiled and waved like she and I were good buddies. "Well you shoulda told me you were such good friends with Paul," she said, flashing me a thousand megawatt smile."

  "He would have been the last person I would have thought to mention," I said. "I sure am glad you know him though, because he was a lot easier to reach than either Gretchen or Max would have been." I smiled at her, remembering what Paul had said. "Accordion, huh? You play polka?" "Only when I have to. I'm Cajun French, from Louisiana, mon cher."

  Up until then, I hadn't detected much of an accent, but she really let fly toward the end there. I couldn't help but grin. "Zydeco, then?"

  "Ca c'est vrai, mon ami." She said, agreeing with me in French. I wasn't fluent, but I did take a few French classes as electives in college. I stumbled through a few simple phrases, which pleased Bernie to no end. Just before I drove off she reached out her window and into my car to pinch my cheek like the aunt I never had. She buzzed me through the gate, just like Paul said.

  There were three more people running interference once I made it onto the studio lot, but once you're past Bernie they pretty much take you at your word… they mostly just show you where to go. I was truly grateful for that because the place was much bigger than I anticipated.

  One of the show's production assistants led me through the sprawling studio where we found the set Gretchen was working on. She was with a group of about fifty or sixty cast and crew. They were in the middle of filming a scene in a crowded pub. It was obvious by the atmosphere that it was a New Year's Eve party, which made sense since I knew they recorded everything ahead of time.

  My designated P.A. warned me to stay out of the way and keep quiet. He both looked and sounded a bit like Kermit the frog, which made it a little hard to take him seriously, but I knew by his facial expression that he wasn't messing around. He was probably aware of the whole Kermit thing and a bit self-conscious about it.

  The actors had been strategically placed on set so that you could clearly see their faces. Even though it was a crowded room, the stars of the show all had their faces turned to the camera somehow. I was behind the cameras and set lighting, so I disappeared into the shadows (which I was thankful for because I was tense with anticipation once I laid eyes on Gretchen). Thankful for a moment to adjust to being in her presence, I settled my back against a wall and began to watch the filming of an episode of Paradise Island.

  It was a fairly long scene, but everyone was hitting their lines and they didn't have many retakes. Gretchen was at the fake party with a guy named Lance. The director had comments and suggestions to share nearly every time the cameras weren't rolling, but the only ones that stood out to me were the ones where he addressed Gretchen.

  "Abby, take a step closer to Lance… face Lance…" Every time the director told her to do something with Lance, I felt like I wanted to smack both him and Lance upside their ugly heads. They weren't swapping spit or anything, but I was having an extremely hard time watching her with another guy in any capacity. Knowing ahead of time that this was a possible scenario didn't soften the blow. I dreaded the countdown to the New Year when she and fuckface would inevitably go into a lip lock. Based on hints I picked up in the dialogue, I knew it was coming. A kiss on the lips may prove to be too much. There's no way I'll be able to watch that, I thought. I looked around the set, hoping to find something I could stare at when it came time for the kiss.

  The director raised his voice to a level where everyone in the room could hear him. "Okay, at the end of this scene, we go into the countdown. The bomb will go off just between the number one and the happy New Year. You'll hear a blast, but the pyrotechnics are going to be CGI. Got that? You're going to have to do a convincing job of looking horrified as you hit the deck."

  He's not going to kiss her, he's not going to kiss her, was all I could think as I heard the director's words. A bomb for Christ's sake… how lucky can I get? A grin spread across my face.

  "Abby, when you go down, Lance is going to jump away from you in an effort to try to save himself, and that's when Ashton sacrifices himself to cover you. Vic, you'll be focused on Ashley. Just like we practiced this morning. The rest of you will be background, but you all need to look sharp. Holy terror on your faces. Make it believable. Everybody got it?" The cast nodded their approval. "All right, get your places," he said.

  Of course I didn't love hearing the news that somebody was going to get to play hero, but it was still better than a New Year's kiss. Despite the fact that it was an interesting process and I'd only been watching for a half hour or so, I was ready for the whole thing to be over. I wanted to see her, talk to her, touch her. Most of all, I wanted the asshat actors to get their hands off of her.

  The director cued the beginning of the scene, and the actors began to execute like the professionals they were. Kermit the frog looked at me with an expression of satisfaction at the sight of the cast and crew at work. Somehow I was still proud of Gretchen for being so good at this even though I'd like nothing more than to carry her out of here and have her never set foot in this place again.

  I caught myself clenching my fists when they settled into their characters and took their places on the set. I had to glance away at the stage light, which I designated to be my happy place. Fucking soap opera. I cursed myself for not being able to make myself want the doctor like I want this little firecracker of an actress.

  Chapter 13

  Gretchen

  We were just about to film the final scene for the New Year's Eve party. The director had given us last minute instructions before we took our places. Joel Perrin was in the corner, barely taking his eyes off of me. He didn't think I could see him, but I could. I caught sight of him when he walked in with Frog, and even though he thought he got lo
st in the shadows, I could still see one side of his face behind the lights. I couldn't get a good enough look to tell what kind of mood he was in. I couldn't imagine Joel reacting well to seeing me being forced to stand so near Lance. He wasn't really the type to share. In fact, that's pretty much at the very core of why things would never work out with us. I wondered what his mindset was… why he'd chosen today to show up here and how he'd gotten clearance.

  I could only vaguely make out his face, but I could see enough to make my heart trip. His hair was hanging loose, just like I liked it. I wondered why he was here at two o'clock on a weekday when he should be at work. I knew how many irons he had in the fire. Joel Perrin was a busy man and he was standing in the shadows watching me work. My palms grew sweaty once it hit home that he'd be sticking around until I was done and I'd be talking to him face-to-face. I took a deep breath and wiped my suddenly sweaty hands on a nearby tablecloth before we started the final scene. My nerves never did this with the guys at work, even when we had to do a more intimate scene. Joel affected me like no one else could. I feared I would have no shot at saying no to him, regardless of why he was here today.

  A backrub? Sure.

  A date? Sure.

  Ride with you on a parade float? Yes.

  Dig a hole in the ground? Of course.

  Sex? I don't see why not.

  I was almost mad at myself… not only for feeling like putty in his hand, but for liking the idea of it. Uhh, the scene, the scene, focus. Although I was still new here, I felt entirely comfortable with my job and with this cast. So, in spite of being rattled by Joel I was able to finish the scene easily.

  Tom, the director, called for action, and those of us who had lines began to recite them. Once we'd all said our lines, the countdown began. It seemed like the longest nine seconds of my life. I had to keep myself from anticipating the blast too early. I flung my body to the ground in the direction I'd been instructed to go. Caleb's character Ashton fell over me to shield me from the blast. We held still until Tom yelled, "Cut!" We all looked up at him for confirmation that we got it. "I think it's good. Give me three minutes to watch it back and I'll let you know. We might just be done for the day, kids."

  I was pretty confident that we'd nailed it, so I figured I'd be talking to Joel within a few moments. My insides felt hot and melty and my skin was tingling with anticipation. I risked a glance in his direction even though I'd been trying not to let him know I knew he was there. Right when I looked his way, he took a step forward to catch my eye. How was he so bold? I smiled at him, and one corner of his mouth rose in that sexy gangsta grin I loved.

  I had to peel my eyes off of him so I could pay attention to Tom's appraisal of our work. "Okay, we're done here, people. I'm going to need Megan, Vic and Ashley in Living Room Three for the next scene. The rest of you are done for the day." He was only talking to the cast, of course. The crew had to stay with the director until the day was done.

  "Good luck," I told Cali. Her character Megan had some major drama in the next scene. The cops were beginning to investigate the bombing, and Megan's dad was the primary suspect.

  "Thanks. I have tons of unshed tears right now anyway." She was referring to being dumped by the guy she'd been seeing for the last few weeks. Cali was a pretty girl, and sweet too, but she had terrible taste in men.

  "Aww, well use him for a little inspiration, and then forget about him. He's not worth any more than that."

  "I know. I'm fine," she said, giving me a seemingly genuine smile. "Enjoy the afternoon off."

  "Thanks. Joel's here."

  She gasped before looking around to try to spot him. "Your Joel? Where?"

  "He's not my Joel," I whispered, "and he's behind you. He's headed this way, so act surprised to see him."

  Cali played along beautifully. She pretended we'd been talking about work stuff when he drew near enough for me to acknowledge. They both remembered each other from a week ago at the art show. "You missed it at The Yard," she told Joel along with her greeting. "Bree Z showed up during a rap battle. It was pretty epic."

  "Yeah, I heard about that," he said, smiling. I wondered who filled him in. Cali was off to Living Room Three, so Joel waved and added, "It was nice seeing you."

  "You too. See ya Abbs," she said, giving both of us a smile and a wave goodbye.

  "You call each other by your character names?" was the first thing Joel asked. He obviously picked up on her calling me Abbs.

  "Only when we're at work. It makes everything easier. Tom and the other directors barely know our real names," I said, with a little laugh.

  From out of nowhere, a four-year-old boy named Aiden (who plays Noah on the show) started running toward Joel with a reckless abandon that totally startled me. He was yelling with joy as he approached, and his arms were raised as if he was offering himself up to be held. "Superman!" he yelled as he ran to Joel. I could see why little Aiden would think that. Joel was broad at the shoulders… built like a super hero. His black hair and beautifully chiseled face fit the description too. I wondered how Joel would react to the boy since I'd heard he didn't have any family of his own.

  Joel reached down and scooped him up with no hesitation whatsoever. He held Aiden to his chest, letting him sit on the crook of his arm. "How'd you know it was me?" Joel whispered as his eyes darted around to making sure no bad guys would overhear.

  "Because I can just tell," Aiden whispered with wide eyes and a shrug. "Can you fly with me?" he asked, total faith oozing out of him.

  "I would, buddy, but I already promised Ms. McKay I would fly her home."

  "You did?" he asked, his eyes growing even wider as he looked at me like I must be the luckiest person on Earth.

  "Yep," I said, confirming Joel's story. "I needed a ride, so I called my friend to help me out."

  "You guys are friends?" he asked. He was looking from me to Joel, amazed.

  Joel leaned in to whisper in the boy's ear. I could barely hear him, but I was pretty sure he said, "I think I'm going to ask her to be my girlfriend." Aiden slapped a hand to his forehead as if wanting a girlfriend was the silliest thing he'd ever heard of. "What?" Joel asked. "Superman needs a girlfriend too."

  "I guess," Aiden said, not looking totally convinced.

  "What's your name?" Joel asked the boy.

  "AAY-DEN."

  "You can't tell anybody I'm really Superman, okay? Everyone else just thinks I'm Gretchen's friend."

  Aiden nodded. "I won't tell," he said, looking over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear.

  Tiffany, Aiden's mom caught sight of him and hurried toward us. "Aiden Murray, why did you run off like that? You know better." She came across the set looking flustered and embarrassed. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I thought he was right behind me but I turned around and he was gone. He usually doesn't run off like that. I'm really sorry." She reached out and took Aidan from Joel then settled the boy on her own hip.

  "It's really okay," Joel said. "Are you Aiden's mom?" Tiffany nodded at him, looking a bit surprised and wary that he knew Aiden's name. "He recognized me, that's all," Joel continued. He looked at Aiden. "It's okay to tell your mom I'm really Superman," he whispered, loud enough so Tiffany could hear. "Moms are the best at secrets. We can tell them everything." He gave Aiden a wink, and the boy returned it by blinking both eyes really hard. Tiffany looked satisfied with the explanation, and walked off with a thankful smile aimed at Joel.

  I was so touched by the way he'd dealt with that situation that I wanted to cry. My eyes started to burn and I realized to my own horror that I was tearing up. What is wrong me with me? I wondered. I turned away and looked up at the ceiling for a second's distraction.

  "You okay?" Joel asked, putting a hand at the small of my back.

  "Yeah," I said, too quickly. I tried to be casual. "I just had something in my eye," I became all too aware of the presence of his warm hand at my back and I turned to face him, suddenly feeling like there wasn't quite enough oxygen in the roo
m. My eyes were still glazed over with unshed tears, but I figured the "something in my eye" bit would account for that.

  I gathered my wits enough to look at him again. He was so gorgeous I could hardly stand it. He always had the shadow of some hair on his jawline, and I found myself wanting to reach up and run my hand over it. I stared at his strong jaw then my gaze moved on to his lips. I remembered how they felt on mine, and I felt that familiar ache in the pit of my stomach at the thought.

  "I was impressed. You're a really good actress." His words brought me about halfway back to reality. Oh yeah, he was talking about watching us film the scene.

  "Thanks," I said, my voice a little hoarse. I was a freaking mess around this guy, but I couldn't help how attracted I was. It was like raw animal magnetism. Uncontrollable.

  "I came here to ask you something today," Joel said. About ten different things crossed my mind within a matter of seconds, but I had no idea what direction this was about to take. "I know your family lives nearby, and I was wondering if I could crash the party this Christmas. I've never really celebrated it before. My childhood was sketchy at best. (A pause.) Now, don't look at me like that," he said, seeing the concern in my eyes. "I've had friends invite me to go home with them for Christmas every year since I started college. I just didn't see much of a point in celebrating the holiday. Don't pity me for being a Scrooge. It was self-imposed. The good news is I think I'd like to give it a go this year. You think it'd be okay if I come for Christmas with your family? I mean if you don't already have plans."

  I was wondering why he chose me. Did he just think I had a nice family because we'd hosted some of our other friends for holidays, or was it something more? I didn't ask him that since I figured he was already out of his comfort zone. "Of course you can come over," I said. "I just want to warn you, my family's a lot to take in. Just think of the phrase 'free for all' and you'll be somewhat prepared."