“I know,” I hiss. “Fuck, I know.”
He examines the glowing end of his cigar. “You gotta man up and do it, Wes.”
I glare at him. “Don’t tell me to man up, Martin. Do not. I’m not flaking out, goddammit.”
“You’ve known the girl less than a month. You worked for months for this role. It’s the role of a lifetime, son. Nail this, and you choose the roles, you choose your salary. The world is at your fingertips, if you nail this. Fuck it up, and…” A shrug.
I catch Jen giving Marty a hard, warning look. I lean back in my chair and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Marty, I…” I groan. “It’s just impossible.”
Jen has been exchanging text messages with someone, and finally puts the phone face down. “I have a solution. Maybe not a perfect one, but something.”
“Let’s hear it,” I say.
“I’ve been texting with one of the ADs—Francois. Jolene can be on set with you. You already have a trailer, so if she’s tired or whatever, she can hang there. She can watch the shoot, too. They’ll work with you on this.”
I nod. “That would be best. It’d probably tickle her pink, being on set, watching Singin’ in the Rain get remade.”
“Front row seats for something that’s a shoo-in to be friggin’ iconic,” Marty says. “Not a bad deal.” He eyes me. “Can you handle it?”
“Do I have a choice?” I ask.
“No, not really. Not a good one.”
“Then let’s get filming.”
Jen picks her phone back up. “They’ll want to start ASAP, as long as you’ve got the choreo and the music down.”
“I’ll have to brush up. But I’ll have it.”
It’s a chaotic week.
Jolene is up and down most of the week, never quite back to what I know as normal before succumbing to another round of debilitating agony and exhaustion.
She insists, vehemently, that I practice choreography and go over my lines and my lyrics, insists on helping. We read lines, and she critiques my dancing and goes over the songs with me.
Then, I have to rehearse in person with Shania and Ryan. Jo is unable to get out of bed that day, and once again strong-arms me into going anyway. Promises she’ll be better soon.
Harder than the exertion of dancing is the mental exhaustion of putting on the show of being okay for my castmates.
Another week, and Jolene isn’t improving. Or, not much. She’s able to move around more than last week.
We’re still rehearsing. Filming starts next week.
I’m away from her more than I’m with her, and it’s at her insistence.
“I will not be the reason Singin’ in the Rain doesn’t get made, and I will not be the reason you don’t perform your best.” She says this one morning, when I’m resisting leaving her. “You have to do this. You have to do it for me. Please, Wes.”
So, I go.
I do my best to put her out of my mind and channel the music, focus on the words, the movements, the character. When I can’t get her out of my mind, I picture her being well. I imagine her springing up out of bed and dancing with me.
The cast and crew are excited—the energy on set is a constant vibrating hum. We all click. The scenes come out flawlessly. Lines get dropped and we laugh, and I laugh with them, and I hope I’m a good enough actor that no one sees how forced my laughter is.
I’m performing this for her.
It’s all for her.
Middle of the night. I got home late from filming—she was resting, finally, the deep sleep that I’ve come to equate with her feeling better.
She wakes me up. “Wes?”
“Mmm?” I hum, sleepy.
“Can we go on our date tomorrow?”
I blink and swallow and fight to something akin to wakefulness. “Might be able to get the director to move things around, film some scenes I’m not in.” I see her in the darkness, a shape in the shadows. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah.” She rolls to me, warm and soft and smelling sweet and clean—she took a long shower before falling asleep, her mom told me. “Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.”
“S’okay.” I’m already tumbling back into sleep. “Missed you.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Don’t apologize, I try to say, but it doesn’t come out. Just a negative grunt.
“I am.” She pets my head, traces the shell of my ear. “I missed you too.”
“You did?”
“Of course.” I hear a smile in her voice. “I miss the things we do together.”
I snort. “Created a monster.”
“Yep. Rawr.” She holds me close, and I hear her heartbeat. “Sleep.”
“’Kay.”
I sleep late. When I wake up, it’s almost ten—late, for me. I smell food—eggs, toast, bacon. I sit up, rub the sleep out of my eyes.
Jo dances in—she’s got earbuds in, phone in her hand. She has coffee in the other hand, sees me and sits on the edge of the bed. She’s in sapphire blue hipster panties and a tank top, nothing else.
“Here,” she says, handing me the coffee. “I felt you waking up.”
“You did, huh?” I ask, taking the mug from her and sipping it gratefully. “You felt me waking up?”
She nods, touching her chest. “In my spirit.”
I eye her over the top of the mug. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
She brightens. “Me too! That was awful, my god.” A happy sigh. “Today is a good day. I feel good. You’re here. And if everything works out with your director, we can finally go on that date.”
“I should call him,” I say. “I’m supposed to be on set for a couple quick scenes.”
I grab my phone and call the director.
After I explain what I want, there’s a long silence. Finally, he sighs. “Yeah, yeah, fine. We can shoot some B roll, and some of the scenes with Ryan and Shania that you’re not in.”
“That’s what I was hoping. You know I wouldn’t—”
“Yeah yeah,” he cuts me off. “You wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I understand the situation. Take the day. Be back on set tomorrow bright and early, with bells on. Yeah?”
I’ve never heard anyone use the word “yeah” as much as he does. “Thanks.”
“You’re really killing it, Wes. We’ve all been impressed…especially considering what’s going on with you personally. Hopefully this day off will inspire some even better performances outta you.”
“It will.”
“Good. All right, I gotta go figure out my schedule, now. See you tomorrow.”
I toss the phone aside and find Jo in the kitchen, plating fried eggs, toast, and bacon that’s so crispy it’s almost crumbly. She can barely restrain her eagerness as I approach.
“Well? What’d he say?”
“He said you and I better eat a hearty breakfast, because today is going to be epic.”