Page 10 of Just for December
The only time Evie has seen him since is in the occasional arts section magazine feature. Every other man she’s tried to love since then has done the exact same thing. They always do, Evie understands. It’s just a case of when.
She watches Duke finish out his scene and feels a pang of guilt. She crossed a line with him this morning and the shame of it burns behind her ears, even if she doesn’t like him. He was only trying to be nice, smarmy as he might otherwise be. Evie doesn’t have to make every man pay for the dismal actions of a few, but Magda has dared suggest she seems committed to trying. No. He might be an actor, but he’s not the devil. She should have been kinder. She can’t explain why she was so atrociously discourteous to him, only that she was. She feels silly about it, now. Maybe it’s the jet lag. Maybe it’s the niggling feeling that she’s wasting time, here, that she should be writing. Her work can often be like that, reminding her even on a weekend or public holiday that there’s still more to be done. Being an author is like forever having outstanding homework.
‘And cut,’ Brad says, pulling her out of her thoughts. She’s missed the climax of the scene. Everyone disperses as the next one is set up. They don’t need another take – the second one got it just great. Evie sees craft services setting out a fresh batch of hot drinks and heads over, desperate to warm up.
‘Hey. You okay?’ Katerina asks her. Evie didn’t see her there. She looks up, her vision a bit blurred. She blinks her eyes and realises she’s welled up.
‘It’s the cold,’ Evie says, and she almost sounds convincing.‘I don’t think I factored in wind-chill when I was getting dressed this morning.’
Katerina takes off her earmuffs and gives them to her. ‘Here,’ she says. ‘Wear these for a while.’ When Evie protests, she insists. ‘Honestly, I don’t need them. I think I have a hat in my bag and this gilet is battery-powered, too. I’m toasty warm. Plus, these will make you look cute for the socials team.’
Later, when they find her, the socials team agree. Two early twenty-somethings, Dream and Willow, have been tasked with behind-the-scenes interviews, wardrobe looks, cast and crew Q&As, the works.
‘Make-up say they’ve got time for you if you want,’ Willow-or-Dream offers.
‘I’m wearing make-up,’ Evie says.
Willow-or-Dream tilts her head to one side, like she doesn’t understand. ‘Hmmm,’ she says. ‘Maybe just get them to warm up your complexion a bit, widen your eyes? And let’s see if wardrobe can lend you something to break up your coat colour against your skin.’
‘What’s wrong with the coat colour against my skin?’ Evie asks. She feels attacked. ‘This is a good coat. It was expensive.’
Of course it was. Her shopping habit is why she can’t get the roof of her house fixed. Or help her mom more. Things can’t love her back, but they also can’t leave, can’t disappoint her.
‘No, yeah, I get it, totally, black is, like, super versatile for, like, being out and about in the cold or whatever, but I’d say you’re maybe a warm autumn? So maybe a lighter brown colour, or a red? Navy even would be great. Then you won’t look as washed out.’
Washed out!Evie thinks, but then Willow-or-Dream is already leading her by the wrist towards a couple of trailers cordoned off by a small park area. They knock, wait, and then get invited inside. To Evie’s dismay, Duke is in there, and she steels herself to at least smile at him, to literally grin and bear it.
‘I’ll be okay,’ he’s saying. ‘I’m happy for her, I am. It’s cool. Oh …’ he interrupts himself when he sees Evie.
Evie raises a hand. ‘Duke.’
‘Evie.’
‘Oh!’ says Kayla, the make-up artist. ‘You’re Evie! Amazing! Duke has just been telling us about your book, haven’t you?’
Duke looks down with a shrug.
‘Called you an author extraordinaire!’ Kayla claims, oblivious, apparently, to the frost emanating off them.
Evie narrows her eyes. Are they all making fun of her? She looks from Kayla to Duke in the mirror. He pulls a face that she can’t quite grasp the meaning of.
‘I just said I likedYou and Me and Us,’ he says, slowly, like he’s afraid Evie will yell at him again. ‘The ending, especially. You make it seem like everyone is getting everything they’ve ever wanted but there’s a sadness there, too, something bittersweet. That’s all.’
He catches her eye for a beat and then looks away. Fair enough, Evie thinks, she really did give him a hard time earlier. And last night. She tentatively offers him something to work with, her way of saying sorry without actually saying sorry.
‘Yeah,’ she acknowledges. ‘Because life doesn’t work like that, does it?’
‘That’s what my therapist says,’ Duke quips to the room. Kayla laughs. He continues, looking at Evie more confidently, now: ‘That there’s no arrival point. The only ending is death, and even then it’s the start of something new.’
Evie nods. That’s pretty much exactly how she feels. Did he really come up with that analysis of her stuff himself? Surely not.
‘Ha,’ he says, then. ‘God, listen to me, yakking on and on. I don’t know how much time you’ve spent in the make-up chair but Kayla will tell you: I talk a lot trying to keep from falling asleep, don’t I? This job isn’t a shift down the mines, but theyarelong days.’ He yawns for effect, and it strikes Evie as self-conscious, as if he’s given her more than he intended to and he’s trying to double back.
Kayla laughs again as she does something to his jawline, charmed, and says in her South African lilt: ‘I love our chats, Duke. You know that.’ And then to Evie: ‘He’s lending me your book. I’m excited to read it. Do you want to take a seat?’
‘Thanks,’ Evie mutters, adding: ‘They say you need to warm up my complexion.’ Kayla motions her over to the chair beside Duke.
‘I can do that,’ Kayla says. ‘I just need two more minutes with Mr Carlisle here and then we’re good to go.’
