My day on the set goes great. I’m rocking it. I’ve got my lines down and everyone’s in tip-top form. The relationship between Kurt and his assistant Mel is developing, and for the first time, Mel opens up to Kurt about her own tragic past. Just like Kurt, she’s lost a loved one, her own first true love, though from illness. While Kellie Fox, the adorable, talented actress playing the part, is making it so easy for me to deliver my lines, method-actor me draws from all the emotions I feel for Zoey. I put everything I feel toward her into them.
Later, after the sun sets, we shoot an action sequence on location. At a big deserted warehouse located in downtown LA. The cat and mouse game between Kurt and his late wife’s assassin continues. For the first time since my accident, I hold a gun and aim it at my target. Bang! Let me tell you, there’s nothing like having a big gun between your legs and another between your fingers you can shoot off. I channel all the rage I feel toward Frank Donatelli into my acting. The way my legendary teacher, Bella Stadler, taught me to do. The memory of this special person in my life has returned and given me a lot to think about.
The night shoot culminates with a life-or-death car chase through the dark desolate city streets with Kurt pursuing his nemesis, The Locust, in his yellow Ferrari at close to one hundred miles per hour. Adrenaline races through my veins. Bang! Bang! Bang! Close to midnight, we film the episode’s final cliffhanger scene—a huge truck is coming at Kurt head on!
“Cut! That’s a wrap,” shouts out Director Niall Davies through a megaphone. “Great job, everyone. Enjoy your weekend and see you all bright and early on Monday.”
Wow. The week’s gone by so fast. A PA helps me out of the car.
“You were awesome, Brandon. I can’t wait to see the dailies and to find out how this season will conclude.” He hands me a bottled water.
“Thanks. You’re going to be surprised.” The twist with Mel and Kurt professing their undying love has been kept very guarded. No one except me, the producer, the head writer, and the Conquest Broadcasting execs know about it. Even Niall and my co-stars haven’t been told what’s going to happen.
Doug DeMille, the show’s Executive Producer, strolls over to me, and gives me a man-pat on my back.
“Great work, Brand-O.”
I take a glug of the water and say thanks.
“Hey, I meant to tell you I got a call from your manager. He says you’re doing Letterman next Thursday.”
Damn. I forgot to call Scott to cancel the appearance. For the first time all day, Katrina enters my mind. I haven’t missed her one iota. My mother used to tell my father when he went on his annual weekend fishing trips that absence makes the heart grow fonder. It always did for the two of them. They couldn’t be wait to be back in each other’s arms, big smelly fish and all. I feel nothing for Katrina except relief that she’s three thousand miles away.
“That’s a problem, right?” Fingers crossed he says yes because the last thing I want to do is fly to New York and freeze my ass off. Or play the Bratrina game with my fiancée and the wisecracking king of late night television. What’s more, I want to stay close to Zoey and her father’s investigation.
“Not at all. I spoke to the network brass, and they want you to do it. It’s great publicity for you and the show. We’ve changed the production schedule around so you’re free and clear.”
f*ck
.
When I get home, it’s way after midnight. To my surprise, Zoey, clad in flannel pajamas, is curled up on my couch with Gucci sound asleep on her lap. The TV is on.
“What are you doing up so late?” I ask, striding toward her. I’m actually happy to see her. And even the little canine monster. They look adorable together.
“I was watching Letterman. Your publicist asked me to come up with some interview questions for him to ask you and Katrina.”
I plop down on the couch next to her. Close enough that her cross-legged body brushes against mine. She caresses the sleeping dog’s head.
“I came up with some and emailed them to her. She’s going to edit them and likely add a few of her own. She’ll send you the final questions. You’ll know in advance what Dave’s going to ask you so you won’t be caught off guard.”
“Great, thanks.”
“Your publicist said a couple of them are going to be about the Golden Globes.”
Of course, he’s going to ask how I could forget to acknowledge Katrina in my acceptance speech. The press release with my apology hasn’t quenched the public’s curiosity or doomsday speculations.
“You’ve done Letterman before and have always had a great time.”
Not this time. “Zo, I don’t want to go, but the network wants me to.”
She sighs with resignation that mirrors my own. “It’ll likely be your last chance to be on his show. He’s retiring in the Spring. He announced it last year.”
Yet another thing I don’t remember. So far only scattered memories have come back. But at least I had a breakthrough at the scene of my accident.
To my relief, my assistant changes the subject. “How did your shoot go?”
I grin. It’s so refreshing to have someone ask me about my day. Katrina never does. It’s all about hers. The truth is I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone in my adult life who’s given a shit.