Drew pulled the plate back and picked up his own fork for a bite. “So the scene is broken. What do we do about it?”
“Figure out where it’s broken first.” Steve flipped open his script and tapped a page. “Here, see? Scotty has this line about the server’s ass. Objectively fine. It’s falling apart on Morgan’s reaction. It doesn’t feel genuine.”
Drew swallowed and nodded, setting his fork down to open his own script. “I agree.”
“Ugh.” Steve groaned and raised his hands as though he wanted to scrub his face—then though better of it before he could ruin his makeup. “Can I just say that it is extra annoying to be the one who created the problem in the script and also the one who can’t just act through the problem and make it work,andbeing the person who fixes it? I feel like I’m letting everyone down.”
“Don’t.” Drew shoveled in another hit of potato salad. “This is normal. You gotta know that, since you’re the guy who gets brought in for fixes all the time. Things change in filming. It happens.”
The tense set of Steve’s shoulders eased a little. “I know. But I hate causing extra work for myself and interrupting everyone else’s workday.”
“So let’s figure it out. Where is Morgan’s reaction going wrong?” Drew thought he already had a pretty good idea, but it would probably be tacky for him to say it, and he was pretty sure Steve knew too.
He sighed. “It’s flat. It doesn’t fit the way I’ve played the character until now. Here it comes across as if he doesn’t care, no matter what kind of blocking or inflection I pair it with. It’s not genuine.”
“Because?” Drew prompted.
Steve scrunched up his face at him. Oh yeah. Steve knew exactly what he was getting at. “Because Morgan’s been attracted to Scotty this whole time, or there’s no way he would’ve gone along with this insane adventure. And now there’s a little more than attraction in the mix.”
He waited after that, but Drew kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, and he didn’t want to sayanythingin case Steve elaborated.
Finally Steve sagged and a rueful, honest expression replaced his grimace. “I’m not that good of an actor.”
Drew went warm all over. “You’re doing great.” He wanted to reach across the table and cover Steve’s hand with his own, but that would incite a round of workplace gossip, so he focused on not letting go of his fork. “Really. Even if we hadn’t decided to…date”—it still took him a complete mental shift to get his brain around that word—“I wouldn’t regret insisting you play the role.”
Steve nodded. “And I don’t regret taking it. But this wasn’t supposed to be a romance!”
“It isn’t. Relax. So Morgan’s feeling pissy and kind of jealous, right? Now make it funny.”
There was that face again. “Can you do the line for me? As Scotty, I mean. And I’ll get in character and we’ll just ad-lib until it feels right.”
Drew took a bite of his sandwich, dusted off his hands, chewed, and swallowed. “Sure. You wanna do blocking too, or just dialogue first?”
“Start with dialogue and see what happens. I think we can probably salvage most of the rest of the scene. We just need to fix one or two lines. It’s easier to fit it in with the motions that come afterward if we leave it open for now.”
By now Scotty was as familiar as a favorite pair of shoes. Drew let the easy, lackadaisical, uncomplicated whimsy of the character settle over him.
And then he dialed into his lizard brain and imagined someone with a butt as nice as Steve’s walking past their table. If they were doing blocking, he’d have leaned over to get a better look, because Scotty was just like that. Instead he let out a low whistle. “Now there’s a cake I’d like to—”
“Slow down, there, sweet tooth. We’re on a mission, remember? ‘Get to Vegas, save the dog, home in time forSunday Night Football.’ Your words.”
“You probably don’t even watch football. I bet you likeJeopardy!”
“Jeopardy!runs on weekdays.”
Drew struggled not to break, becauseof courseSteve knew that. “This is why you never get laid.”
“Even you aren’t getting laid at seven thirty on a Tuesday. You’re probably watching repeats ofCornholed”—Drew almost choked; Steve looked half a second away from losing it—“and getting better acquainted with your Fleshlight.”
Drew batted his eyelashes. “I’m flattered you think I can afford a Fleshlight.”
Steve did lose it then, tossing his pen at Drew and bending his head as he laughed at the table. Drew slid Steve’s tray out of the danger zone to avoid a wardrobe mishap. “Oh, screw you. God. Yeah, I can definitely react to Scotty saying that in character. And that fits right in with the rest of the scene. We should be able to paste the end back on.”
Drew nodded. “There’s just one problem.”
Steve raised his head and his eyebrows, and Drew nodded over his shoulder to where Nina was helping her grandkids get a snack. “What do you bet one of the kids asks what a Fleshlight is?”
Chapter Twelve
