Call the Shots

by Don Calame

  “Can we talk? Please?” Nessa shoots an apologetic smile at Matt and Coop. “Alone?”

  “I have nothing to say to you. I told you not to come.”

  “What’s going on?” Matt asks.

  “Nothing. She just . . .” I clench my jaw, my head and heart pounding. “She shouldn’t be here. That’s all.”

  “What are you talking about?” Coop says. “She helped save our movie.”

  I turn on him and snap, “She doesn’t care about our movie. She doesn’t care about me. Or you. Or any of us. Don’t you get it? She and Cathy were just playing me. Having a little game. A big old laugh at my expense.”

  “I’m so sorry, Sean,” Nessa says. “You’re right: at first that’s exactly what we were doing. But —”

  “I don’t want to hear it! Whatever you have to say, Nessa, can’t possibly make a difference.” I shove past her and into Uncle Doug’s house. My stupid throat is closing up. If she doesn’t get out of here now, I’m afraid I’m going to burst into some very un-Rogart-like tears. “Just leave, okay? You’re not welcome.”

  “Sean,” Nessa says. “Please, let me just —”

  “I said go!”

  “What do you mean there’s no popcorn?” Matt’s grandpa grouses. “I thought we were seeing a movie. How can they show a movie without any goddamn popcorn?”

  “It’s a fancy affair, Arlo,” Mrs. Hoogenboom says, shuffling him along. “It’s not like your regular showings.”

  The Trail Blazer Theater is decked out with balloons and flowers and posters everywhere. Practically everyone we know is here — my dad, my hugely pregnant mother, and Uncle Doug; Matt’s mom, his brother, Pete, and Pete’s girlfriend, Melissa; Matt’s grandpa Arlo and Grandpa Arlo’s lady friend, Mrs. Hoogenboom; Coop’s parents, Helen’s mom, Valerie’s parents and little brother, George, and even Tony Grillo — who’s apparently dating Kelly West again. Everybody all spiffed up in suits and dresses.

  It’s like a red-carpet film premiere and family reunion all wrapped up in one. The only people missing are Cathy and Nessa. It’s kind of weird not to have them here. I mean, Cathy is my twin and Nessa was my leading lady and cowriter. But it’s not like I actually want them here. Not after what they did. Still, I float through the crowd feeling untethered, my emotions mixed up and swirling around inside me.

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Coop’s dad has him and Helen cornered by a potted tree. “Explain the premise of this to me again. They’re monkeys. But they’re also human. And vampires. And zombies?”

  “You’ll understand when you see it,” Coop says.

  “I sure as shit hope so. Otherwise I want my twenty bucks back.”

  “You didn’t pay twenty bucks, Dad.”

  “Yeah, but my time is money, mister.”

  Coop catches my look and rolls his eyes. I flash him a knowing smile and move along. Brush some lint off the lapel of my jacket. Luckily, Dad had an old suit he let me borrow. It’s sort of plaid and a bit dated, but it sure beats the hell out of my split dress pants and straitjacket-tight sport coat.

  Just then my phone buzzes with a text. I get a jolt of excitement, like maybe it’s Nessa and she’s decided to come anyway and . . . but no. When I look at the screen, I see that it’s a good luck and congratulatory message from Leyna. Which is sweet, I suppose, though disappointing. And as a further bit of mockery — though certainly unintentional — Leyna’s attached a picture of her corgi’s rashless ass with a big THANK YOU Photoshopped in an arch over its tail stump. Lovely.

  “So,” Mom says, waddling up to me, leading with her basketball belly. “This isn’t too too scary, is it?” She places her hand on her stomach. “We don’t want to induce labor here.”

  “I told you you didn’t have to come,” I say, my tone more prickly than I want. “It’s a horror film. It’s going to be scary.”

  “All right. I’ll just hide my eyes in your father’s shoulder.” She reaches out and squeezes my arm. “I’m very proud of you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And I think you picked a great business to go into,” Mom says, leaning in and whispering conspiratorially. “The movie industry is rife with gays. You’ll feel right at home.”

  I should just tell her about Cathy. It would serve my evil twin right. But instead I just sigh. “Thanks, Mom. That’s great. I’ll see you after the show.”

  I head over to Matt and Valerie, who are hanging around a standee for some film called Crib Death 2: Baby’s Back.

  “You doing okay?” Valerie asks.

  I shrug. “I guess.” I glance over my shoulder at the crowded lobby. “I wish they’d just start this thing already.”

  “I’m sorry about Nessa,” Matt says. “That’s too bad.”

  “Whatever. It is what it is. At least we got our movie made, right?”

  Suddenly there’s a loud crash by the front of the door, followed by shrieks and screams. The crowd parts, and I am afforded a full-on view of what all the ruckus is.

  Nick! In his humanzee costume. Matted and muddied with half of the monkey mask torn off his face.

  “You!” He points a filthy mangy chimp-finger at me. “I’m going to kill you!”

  Holy crap! It’s just like the end of every bad horror film when the supposedly dead creature comes back for one last attack.

  Nick hurtles toward me, dragging his back leg slightly. I grab the nearest thing to me — the Crib Death 2 standee — and swing it out wildly at him. By some miracle the corner of it makes contact with his eye and Nick goes reeling backward. Just as he’s about to recover, Tony and Pete leap into the fray. They grab both his arms and drag him, kicking and growling, out of the theater.

  There is a moment of dead silence. And then the entire lobby erupts in applause. There’s a chorus of “Bravos” and “Wonderfuls” and “Brilliants.” Like everyone thinks the whole thing was staged. Like some ridiculous publicity stunt or something.

  My friends — the only ones who know for real what just happened — are by my side in an instant. My heart’s beating a million miles an hour, and I’m sweating right through my suit jacket.

  “Holy crap, are you all right?” Matt says.

  “Yeah.” I reach out to steady myself on his arm. “I think. Jesus. That was . . . unexpected, huh?”

  “You totally clocked him,” Coop praises. “That was epic.”

  And then the lobby lights flick on and off several times just as we hear police sirens wailing outside.

  “Guess that’s our cue,” I say.

  Matt holds up his crossed fingers. “Here’s to taking home the big prize. You freakin’ deserve it after that.”

  We shuffle down the aisles, those of us in the cast and crew sitting in the prime reserved rows. I notice two empty seats — one next to Mom and Dad, a few rows back, where Cathy should be. And one next to me, in the VIP row, where Nessa should be.

  Just as the lights in the theater dim, I glance over and see Helen grab Coop’s hand.

  And Matt put his arm around Valerie.

  I sink into my seat and try to focus on the movie rather than the lump that seems to be caught in my throat.

  The first thing I realize is that, while video shot on a cell phone doesn’t look too bad on a laptop, it looks absolutely horrible when blown up to movie-screen proportions. Fuzzy and blurry and shaky and pretty almost impossible to look at.

  The next thing I notice is Nessa.

  And how even blurry and fuzzy and shaky, she still looks amazing. She’s got a face made for the big screen; even when shot in super-lo-res, her eyes find you and are totally expressive, and her cheekbones are killer. And those lips . . . wow! How did I ever think Leyna was the girl of my gamer dreams? She couldn’t hold a candle to Nessa.

  I’m so transfixed by her that it takes me a minute to realize that almost everyone in the theater is laughing hysterically. Uncle Doug just came on screen, and while I’ll grant you that he’s no Ian McKellen, I didn’t think he was that laughable as Dr. Schmalooga
n. But when the scene shifts and it’s me and Nessa up on the screen, acting our little hearts out, and they’re still laughing, I finally get it: they think it’s a farce. The scare-your-pants-off horror film that we’ve all been slaving over for months is getting bigger laughs from this crowd than The Hangover.

  Of course, I immediately turn to look at Nessa, to share in this bizarre but kind of awesome twist with her. Only she’s not there. Because I yelled at her. And told her she didn’t care about the movie. That she wasn’t welcome here.

  And before I know it, I’m up and out of my seat.

  Running toward the exits.

  Charging through the theater doors. Into the lobby. Then out on the street. Searching for the nearest subway station.

  MY BODY WAS ON THE SUBWAY. And then the train. And the bus. And finally on my bike pedaling like crazy through the streets of Lower Rockville. But my mind was on Nessa the whole time. Thinking about what I want to say to her. Questions I want to ask. Things I hope she says to me.

  And now here I am. In front of her house. Having built up this elaborate end-of-the-movie fall-into-each-other’s-arms finale in my imagination. And I’m suddenly wondering if showing up unannounced like this — after having publicly told Nessa off — is a cool Han Solo move or just another one of my Jar Jar Binks-isms.

  I mean, sure, maybe she was going to apologize profusely and confess her undying love for me when I cut her off.

  But maybe she was just going to apologize. And give me the old “Can’t we please just be friends” speech.

  My stomach sours. Oh, good Gandalf. Of course that’s what she was going to say. Just like it was with Leyna. What the hell was I thinking? I’m such an idiot.

  Forget it. I’ll just go home. Hop into bed. Tell everyone I was feeling sick and that’s why I ran out of the theater. Nobody has to know. If I get out of here now I can save myself bucketfuls of humiliation.

  I look around to make sure nobody’s seen me. Hop on my bike. Set my foot on the pedal. And am just about to make my escape when I feel Nessa’s necklace thump against my chest.

  I stop, remembering what she said about crossroads and choosing our paths. Do I really want to be the guy lying in the cemetery who let everyone else make his choices for him? Or do I want to take charge of my life, do what I want to do? Okay, sure, maybe I’ll be humiliated. Maybe Nessa will shoot me down and I’ll cringe every time I see her for the next couple of months.

  But at least I’ll know I tried. That I took a chance — a chance Maggie Stillman never got to take.

  I muster my courage, my heart slamming so hard in my chest it feels like I might actually die, and force myself to swing my leg off the bike.

  As I do, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I slide it out and see a text from Nessa: gt the hll n here alrdy, wld ya!

  I look up and see Nessa staring down at me from her window. How long as she been standing there, watching me choose my fate?

  I don’t know why this makes me smile, but it does. I quickly text her back: b rIt thr.

  I start to jog my bike toward the back of her house.

  “Drop it on the front lawn,” Nessa calls out her window. “I think we’re past all the clandestine stuff, don’t you? Just come in. The door’s open.”

  I do as I’m told and am standing in front of Nessa’s mystical magical fairy-tale bedroom door in under thirty seconds, my stomach all twisted in pretzels. Does she want me in here so she can yell at me for totally losing it earlier and barring her from the screening? Or could she actually be as excited to see me as I am to be standing here, a door’s width away from each other?

  Nessa opens the heavy wooden door and ushers me in. “I have to say, I’m kind of surprised to see you. Isn’t your movie screening at this very moment?”

  “Our movie,” I say quickly. “Look, Nessa, I’m really sorr —”

  “Don’t,” she says, looking pained. I flash back to Leyna’s living room, to my awkward confession of love — well, lust, really — and how horribly I misread that whole situation. Nessa’s screwed-up face hits me harder than any rejection from Leyna ever could. The tears that I’d suppressed earlier come screaming back. If I don’t get the hell out of here right now, I’m afraid I’ll give Nessa all the ammunition she and Cathy need to mock me for the rest of my life.

  I reach behind me, fumbling for the doorknob. “I should go,” I say quickly. “I don’t know why I —”

  “Sean, wait.”

  I look up and finally meet Nessa’s gaze. That pained expression that I thought was revulsion actually looks more like . . . regret. “You still haven’t let me apologize,” she says. “I never meant to hurt you. Cathy and I . . . we just thought we’d have a little fun, that you’d show zero interest in me and Cathy would know that she wasn’t alone, you know? That you were just like her. But it was pretty clear from the start that you weren’t gay. I should have stopped as soon as I realized it, but I kind of liked hanging around you. I thought your movie was awesome, and I was flattered that you seemed to think my ideas were helpful. And I was also flattered that you . . . seemed to find me attractive.” Her pale neck blots pink as she admits this, and as amazing and adorable and hot as I’ve found Nessa in the past, seeing her neck flush with pleasure and embarrassment totally does me in. I’m but a humble Padawan to her Jedi Masteress.

  “I like you, Sean,” she says. “And I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

  So, here it is: time for me to put all my cards on the table. I stand up straight and try to take a deep breath, though I can’t seem to get much air. “I like you too, Nessa. And . . . not just as a friend. Or my sister’s friend. I like you like you. Like, really like you.”

  And just like that, it’s as though I’ve shrugged a three-hundred-pound wampa off my shoulders. I blink, feeling like I can breathe again. The rest comes easily. “I was in the theater, watching you up on screen, and you were amazing. Like, truly, truly amazing. And I started thinking about this past week and how much fun we had. And kissing you. But even before that, when we were writing the script together. I mean, sure, sometimes you were a total pain in my ass and you made me work way harder than I’d wanted to. But the movie wouldn’t have been half as good as it is without you pushing me and adding your own ideas to the script.”

  Nessa smiles shyly. “We did have fun, didn’t we?”

  “Are you kidding? Being with you has been the most fun I’ve ever had in my life. Hands down.”

  Nessa laughs, and there’s a hint of her old teasing self when she says, “Come on, even more fun than when you and Matt and Coop dressed in drag? You know, we still have those pictures saved on Cathy’s comp —”

  “You do not,” I say, a pleased tingling surging through my body despite the very heinous threat in her words.

  “If you’re nice to me, I might just go in and delete it once and for all.”

  I smile, and soon we’re both standing there smiling at each other just like we were yesterday, when we were wrapping up shooting. “Hey, can I ask you something?” I say at last.

  “Anything.”

  “When did it change? I mean, when did it . . . you know . . . stop being a game?”

  She winces at the word game. “It’s hard to say. I think it sort of started when I found you in the dumpster. You looked so . . . I don’t know . . . vulnerable. And not entirely bad in just your boxer shorts,” she adds with a wicked grin. Now it’s my turn to blush. “But maybe it was before then. Hanging out and getting to know each other. You’re really sweet, Sean. I never really noticed that side of you before.”

  I take a step toward her, my heart thumping in my chest. But I stop a few inches from her.

  “It’s funny,” I say, glancing around. “I still half expect Cathy to come out of your closet, laughing hysterically and snapping pictures that she can post on Facebook.”

  “Cathy coming out of the closet? Are we making gay jokes, now, Sean? Just when I thought you were so sweet and sensitive.”

  “Wh
at? No. No, that’s not what I —”

  Nessa laughs and the sound fills me. “Man, you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

  Nessa closes the space between us, reaching up and touching my cheek. Her intense green eyes lock onto mine in a way that is desperately hot.

  And before I know what’s happening, I’m kissing her beautiful soft lips again. But for real this time. And if I thought those movie kisses were good, well, forget about it. Because this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. Her licorice smell, the taste of her tongue, the gentle sound of her breathing, the metallic brush of her lip ring, the heavy warmth of her cross pendant against my chest. All my senses wonderfully amplified.

  Minutes pass. Or maybe it’s hours. Anything seems possible when you’re kissing Nessa in her fairy-tale bedroom.

  But at some point, the real world intrudes.

  “Whoa, Sean.” Nessa pulls back, her cheeks pink. “Maybe we need to slow down.”

  “Oh. No. That’s my cell phone,” I say, reaching into my pocket to try to shut off the vibrations.

  “And here I thought it was me,” Nessa teases. “You’d better answer it, though. Maybe they’re calling from the theater to tell you who won.”

  “Tell us,” I remind her. “And given how hard people were laughing when I left, I highly doubt that.” But I pull the phone from my pocket and squint at the screen. “It’s my dad.” I frown and click the answer button. “Hello?”

  “Sean, where are you?” Dad shouts, sounding like he’s out of breath. “Everybody was looking for you.”

  “I’m with Nessa,” I say. “It’s . . . a long story.”

  “Well, I don’t even have time for a short story. We’re headed to Walker Medical Center. Your mom was laughing so hard at your movie that her water broke. She’s in labor. Can you take a taxi and meet us there?”

  Suddenly my knees go weak. “Yeah, okay, sure. No problem,” I ramble. “Is she . . . ? Is everything okay?”

  “She’s fine. She’s good.” Dad sounds like he might start crying. “Keep breathing, hon,” he calls away from the phone, then says to me, “I’ve got to go. We’re having a baby, Sean! You’re going to be a big brother!”