Waiting in the Wings (19 page)

I arrived on set and received a quick hair and makeup touchup. Adrienne was already there having shot a few singles already. We didn’t acknowledge each other until forced to meet with Frank about the scene. Even then, we only nodded. I listened intently to what he wanted out of the scene, all the while fascinated by his English accent like a wide-eyed twelve-year-old.

“Think we’re all on the same page, ladies?” he asked, walking backward toward the monitor.

“Definitely. Ready?” I asked, turning to Adrienne.

“Yep. Let’s do this.”

Once the lighting was tweaked a bit, we were underway. The scene required the two of us to run into each other unexpectedly in the park. Staging wise, I was signaled to begin walking first, though the primary shot for this take would be of Adrienne walking toward me. We shot it easily enough, along with the matching version for me. The next shot was the crux of the scene itself and we’d shoot Adrienne’s close-up first. Rather than breaking the scene into sections, Frank preferred to shoot the entire scene in one long take. We went through it once, but Adrienne seemed stilted, tense. The emotion wasn’t as raw as I knew Frank was going for. I waited patiently, staying out of it, as he pulled her aside for a discussion. Take two wasn’t much different.

“And cut!” Frank scurried over to us, speaking vehemently, his voice only growing louder as he continued. “Adrienne, you’re not there, darling. You’re not playing the scene. I need you to look at this woman in front of you and see the history there. Sara was your best friend and you feel betrayed and hurt. A small part of you misses her, but there’s a lot of anger left. This scene is about sorting through all of those emotions, and we have to see each play itself out.”

I crossed my arms, uncomfortable at the double meaning of his words, even if it was unbeknownst to him. Adrienne looked haunted, and I could tell none of the irony was lost on her either. We held eye contact for a moment, and I realized I felt sorry for her. She looked fragile, vulnerable. But I reminded myself she was simply getting into character, something she was paid to do. I felt my cool mask of indifference move back into place. I studied the trees, the crew, the clouds, anything but Adrienne as I waited for the shot to be reset.

Adrienne leaned in. “Can you maybe not give it so much?” I was confused by her request. “You don’t want me to act?”

“You’re changing the mood of the scene and we seem off- balance as a result.”

I struggled to remain polite. “Frank asked for you to give more, not for me to give less.”

Her eyes flared. “When did you become so difficult to work

with?”

“I’m not intentionally being difficult, Adrienne. If there’s something I can do to help the scene, I’ll do it. When did you become such a control freak?” My anger was rising now. “And please do me a favor and don’t presume you know me because you don’t.”

“Oh, I beg to differ. I think I understand how you operate perfectly.” Our voices were now loud enough to attract the attention of pretty much everyone on set.

“On how I operate? What exactly does that mean? Enlighten

me.”

“You’ve always been out for number one, Jenna. You’re just

being a little more up front about it these days.”

“Tell you what, why don’t you worry a little less about me and a little more about the scene you’re not able to hit.” Okay, so it was a low blow professionally speaking, and if she’d had any confidence about the scene to begin with, I’d probably just dashed it. But damn it, she was pushing my buttons.

Adrienne turned to Frank, who was now approaching, and held up her hands. Her voice was calm but icy. “I will not work like this. I will pull myself from this film before I’m talked to on set this way, Frank.” And with that, she was out of there. I turned and watched her storm from the set back to her trailer, looking angry, venomous, and drop-dead gorgeous.

I looked to Frank apologetically. He looked ready to spit nails. “I have a multi-million dollar production to shoot here. What the fuck was
that
?” He took his entire stack of papers and threw them into the air as he stormed away. Okay, so maybe Michelle was right about the temper.

Dylan stood and consulted his clipboard. “All right people, let’s take a short break. Extras, please don’t go far. We’ll be moving on to scene thirty-nine. Someone get Luke and Michelle into makeup. We’ll revisit this shot later today or tomorrow.”

I felt guilty. That whole thing could have been handled better, but I allowed a personal hang-up of my own to enter into the situation. I walked back to my trailer and tried to figure out a way to fix it. The idea of stopping at Adrienne’s trailer, which I had to pass on the way to mine, did enter into my head, but I discarded it

quickly. Not only did I have no clue what I would say, but I doubted she would give me the opportunity, judging from how angry she looked. Once her temper was unleashed, it usually took a while for her to rein it back in. One thing I did understand, however, was that I’d behaved unprofessionally, and if she had pushed my buttons, I had also pushed hers. It was bad business.

I hadn’t been in my trailer twenty minutes when a production assistant stopped in and informed me I was needed in the production office. Splendid. I was about to face more music.

I made the short walk to the production trailer and knocked once before entering. Roberta Long, the associate producer, poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Adrienne, who sat on the couch. Adrienne looked up at me warily and then back at Roberta. To say I felt a bit daunted was an understatement. “Come on in, Jenna. This won’t take long.”

I took a seat on the other end of the couch and waited expectantly for the reaming I was so sure was coming. Roberta took a seat across from us and leaned back in her chair. “Bottom line, ladies: what happened today on set can never happen again. You cost us time and money and that’s in no way acceptable. Apparently, there’s some history between the two of you and though I’m not clear on the details, I suggest you work it out. Take the rest of the day, but be back here tomorrow, on time, and ready to work together. Are we clear?”

“We’re clear,” Adrienne said. “Roberta, I’m so sorry. It’s not like me and I’m embarrassed for having behaved the way I did.” She turned to me. “I owe you an apology as well. I’m sorry for blowing up.”

I nodded. “Me too. I could have helped the situation, but I made it worse. It won’t happen again, Roberta.”

“Good. I plan to hold you both to that.” She pulled on her suit jacket and walked with us down the steps of the trailer to the street. “Can I suggest the two of you have a conversation? You have tonight off. Go get a drink and find a common ground. Better safe than sorry.” She squeezed my shoulder and headed off in the direction of the set, leaving Adrienne and me alone.

“You know, maybe we should talk,” she said. “What do you think?”

While the idea of sitting and discussing a part of my past I’d rather not revisit sounded about as much fun as a root canal, I realized the professional implications of more trouble on set and decided it was probably for the best. “Yeah, okay. A drink later?”

“There’s a jazz bar uptown where a friend of mine is playing. I promised him I’d stop in sometime this week. It’s pretty low-key, a good place to talk.”

“All right, eight o’clock?”

“That’ll work.” She pulled a card from her purse and scribbled the name and address of the club on the back. “I’ll see you tonight.” She handed me the card and walked away, looking about as thrilled as I felt.

Michelle approached about that time. “Oh my God, I heard there was a knock-down drag-out between you two.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Well, the crew totally is. You guys used to be a…thing?” “That was a long time ago.”

“I’ve got to get to set, but you have to fill me in later.”

“Sure. See ya, Michelle.”

The studio-provided car drove me back to the hotel where I was staying with the other out of town cast members. It was my home away from, well, other hotels, sadly enough. There was the sublet I had in LA, but that lease was ending soon. I was beginning to feel like a gypsy. I didn’t currently have a real home.

I watched the streets fly by outside the car window, still so happy to be in the city. Maybe this was where I belonged. I would definitely look into the possibility of staying in New York once we wrapped the film.

When I arrived back at my room, I was greeted by a rather large arrangement of red and yellow roses sitting on the bedside table. I studied the flowers, knowing for certain they had not been there when I left the room that morning and congratulated myself on my detective skills. I opened the card and smiled. Paige.

“I miss our nights. Call me when you’re in town.”

I shook my head and smiled. It was probably best I not call her. I didn’t like getting too tangled up, and anything further with Paige could potentially get complicated. I liked her, genuinely, and didn’t want her to think there was more between us than there was. I realized I was jaded, but I preferred it that way. Life was simpler when matters of the heart were not involved.

It was seven fifteen and I so did not want to go to this meeting/ drinks thing. I threw my orange into the air once and sighed as it returned to my waiting hands. I pushed myself up on the bed so I was propped up on my elbows, and stared at the blank wall. I contemplated cancelling, but I didn’t have Adrienne’s number. Damn it. I dressed quickly, knowing if I was going to go, I didn’t want to be late. Some things never change.

I selected my faded designer jeans and scoop neck black sweater. I surveyed myself in the mirror, worrying I would be too casual for the club she’d selected and pissed off that I seemed to care. I added my low heel boots to the ensemble and felt somewhat better. Geez, what was wrong with me?

The cab ride over to the jazz bar was quick enough. The place itself, however, was something else. It was located in the basement of an office building, only a small unassuming sign marking the entrance. The bar was a dimly lit room full of intimate tables, surrounding a small stage. I didn’t see Adrienne right off, so I took a seat at the bar and ordered a glass of red.

The combo band onstage consisted of a piano, bass, drums, and tenor saxophone. The ballad they played was smooth and haunting. I turned around in my chair and watched them play, getting lost in each blistering note. After a while, I felt the presence of someone nearby and turned to fi Adrienne standing over my shoulder, also listening to the song. I studied her face. She seemed captivated by the music, so I returned my attention to the stage. As the song concluded, we clapped along with the fi or so other patrons.

She looked down at me. “Have you been here long?” I could tell she was doing her best to seem cheerful.

“No, just the one song.”

“Why don’t we grab a table? Candace, can you send over a bottle of merlot and an extra glass, please?”

“Sure thing,” the bartender answered.

We settled into the booth as the band struck up again, this time playing an up-tempo tune, smooth and mollifying. We listened for a moment and I decided to take the initiative. “So obviously, today wasn’t ideal.”

“It wasn’t,” she said. “I have to be honest; I take full responsibility for what happened on set. I behaved badly and I’m sorry.”

“It was a joint effort and I also want to apologize. I should have been more accommodating to what you needed in the scene, and maybe a little nicer with my words.”

She nodded in silent appreciation and traced the rim of her glass with her forefinger. “I guess if we’re being completely forthright, I was a little on edge. Something about the dialogue in that scene and the awkwardness between us, I don’t know, it got to me.”

“I know. But it doesn’t have to be awkward, you know. We could just agree it won’t be. I’m the first one to admit the idea of us working together was a little daunting, but honestly, Adrienne, we’ve always gotten along in the past, our work ethics are similar, and the fact that there was something between us at one point is outside that box.”

She held up her glass. “Cheers to that.” I reached across the table to meet her glass with mine and offered an encouraging smile.

“To making this the best film ever.”

“Agreed.”

I took a deep swallow from my glass and regarded Adrienne across the table, not quite sure how to proceed with our conversation. “So…how have you been?”

She laughed at the broad nature of the question, drinking her wine as she thought over the answer. “Life’s been a bit busy lately. I’m not sure if I’m coming or going it seems, but hopefully, I can remedy that after this shoot. I’d like to find a way to ground myself a bit more, stay close to home.”

“And home is still here in New York?”

“Definitely. I’m a New Yorker for life, I think. What about

you? California still?”

“I guess so, for no reason other than that’s where I’ve been working. I’m not sure where home is quite yet. Stay tuned.”

“You’ve accomplished a lot out there, Jenna. It’s impressive. You should be proud of yourself. I guess you made the right move after all.” She said it with the utmost of sincerity, but it still struck a sensitive chord.

“I don’t look at it in those terms, Adrienne. Nothing’s black or white. I did what I thought was best for everyone with what I knew at the time.”

“I know that.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She considered the question. “Would you be upset if I said no?” “Not at all. In fact, I think I’d completely understand.” “Thank you.”

We listened to the music for a few minutes, neither of us speaking. The wine began to slowly work its magic and made everything seem a tad easier. I took in the band’s bluesy rendition of “My Funny Valentine,” watching Adrienne pour herself another glass. I followed, killing the bottle. She took a sip and cradled her glass, studying me. “You haven’t changed much, other than the tan, of course.”

“West coast necessity,” I said. “Jealous?”

“Nope, but it does look nice on you. Blondes look better with tans, I think. Me? I stick with the pale brunette thing.”