“I understand,” she says, looking troubled. “Hon, I’m so sorry. That’s rough.”
I sigh as I watch the wind scatter some leaves over our blanket. “I don’t know what to do. Being around him is so hard. But there’s no way around it.”
Suze leans back on her elbows and looks up at the sky, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Well. You can always become a nun,” she says.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
This is what friends are for. I think.
After lunch, we walk back to set and I bid Suze a goodbye. She gets in her car and heads off to catch a train for Vermont. Meanwhile, the crew’s just wrapping filming. I walk up to Flint and Jerri as they’re finishing up a conversation, Flint nodding vigorously. He turns as I come over, taking off his hard hat.
“That was a hell of a day,” he says, wiping his face. “But I think we’re going to start on the roof tomorrow. I walked it again, and I think it’s secure. It’ll make for a scintillating evening of television.”
“Can your heart stand the shocking conclusion of Flint McKay on top of a one story roof,” I say in my TV announcer voice. It’s a really good voice, too. Flint grins.
“Well, let’s worry about the terror of all that another day.” He swings into his leather jacket. “What do you say we head to the Firefly? I could use a beer.”
It’d be great, just me and Flint at the bar, sharing a drink and laughing. We’ve shown that we can handle the platonic hang-out, the friendly handshake goodnight. But the talk I had with Suze during lunch gives me pause. I need to stay on track.
“Better idea,” I say. “Let’s swing by David and Callie’s for a quick chat. I need to ask about filming a family dinner.” We head down the hill, my stomach sinking with the words. An opportunity to spend one on one time with the man I can’t stop thinking about, and I turn it down. Huzzah. Flint looks a little wary at my Winstonian suggestion.
“We’re not roping the whole family into some kind of circus, right?”
“Paranoia, thy name is McKay. Relax. We shoot a dinner, during which you won’t be able to actually eat any food because it’ll ruin your makeup, and it’s a nice five minutes in an episode somewhere, probably mid-season. Besides, consider Callie. Do you really think she’s going to turn down this opportunity?” Callie’s been at the set nearly every day. This show seems like the most exciting thing that’s happened to her since Mercury went out of retrograde. And let this be a sly fuck you to the network. They took shots at Callie’s weight earlier? Guess what, now she’s a featured player. Flint nods.
“Point taken. Let’s go give her the news of her life.”
We drive up in Flint’s truck, and just as he turns off the ignition I hear something I never hear from the Winston house: shouting. Flint gets out of the truck, instantly on guard. It’s the brother protective instincts, I guess. Though when the door opens and David comes tearing out of the house, ducking as Callie hurls something at him, I’m more scared for the husband.
“Sure, go right back to the office. What’d you leave there this time? Your dignity?” Callie shouts, throwing something else. Fortunately for David, they’re just rubber bath toys. There’s a duck and an octopus. Poor little things.
“Maybe because it’s the only place where I get some damn respect!” David yells back at her. Callie grunts.
“Only because no one there’s ever seen your closet of memorabilia from The Phantom Menace!” Callie yells. David actually stomps his foot like a child; clearly, this has now gone over the line for him.
“Those are all first edition. When I make bank and put them toward our retirement, you’ll thank me!” he shouts.
“No one likes Jar Jar Binks, David! No one but you!” Callie roars. She wheels back around and slams the front door. Then she opens it back up and slams again, for emphasis. I slowly approach David, who looks about as red-faced as you can get without having a stroke.
“What the hell is this?” Flint asks David, incredulous. David shakes his head, runs a hand through his thinning hair, and gets into his car.
“They say the terrible twos are the worst year for kids,” he says out the window as he starts the engine. “More like the worst year for mothers,” he yells, but pulls out of the driveway fast when Callie comes outside, looking like she’s going to murder someone.