Page 53 of On Set
She wasn’t going to win this battle.
I would fight her until the end.
Celia needs to get knocked down a peg or two. Soon.
I’d love to be the one to do it. I’m sure I’d find great joy in the task. Far greater than I find in ordering coffee or shopping for sour jellybeans and red licorice.
The rest of the day passes quickly. Steve only calls me from my office twice after lunch for little tasks. Call sheets and updated scripts are printed for the rest of the week. Lunch has been ordered for the remainder of the week. And my email inbox has been cleaned out, all important messages replied to.
It’s a little after eight o’clock when I finally close and lock my office door behind me. Eli sent me a message twenty minutes ago letting me know he was on his way home. As excited as I am to enjoy a late dinner with him tonight, at his place, where we have some sense of privacy, I’m not thrilled I get to relive the conversation I had with my mother. Or the conversation from this morning.
Both have been on my mind all day, as much as I’ve tried to push them from my thoughts.
Eli’s going to have tons of questions. The kind I’m not going to want to answer and probably a few I can’t at this point. I’ve only been one side of the story. I want to hear Steve’s reasoning for choosing that location, what happened that night, his side of the story. And I will. In time. After the movie is finished.
Checking my phone for any new emails as I walk across the deserted parking lot, I feel a presence behind me. Sliding my car key between my fingers, preparing to defend myself, I quickly spin around to face the person following me.
“What the fuck?” Celia screams as I shove my key under her chin, pulling back just in time to keep it from breaking the skin.
“Why the hell are you sneaking up on me?”
“I’m not. I’m walking to my car.”
Looking over my shoulder to where I parked, I spot Celia’s car two spots down. Her shiny, red convertible is the perfect match for her personality. Attention-seeking. Though I doubt she ever drives with the top down considering how concerned she is with her hair all the time. Which I confirmed is the reason she wears a wig. So, when the time comes, she isn’t required to dye her hair pink.
“My bad,” I state, my words emotionless as I turn around and walk away from her.
She hollers a few profanities in my direction, but I don’t stop until I’m in my car, the door muffling her rage.
Laughter bursts from my chest, the expression on her face flashing through my mind. She was scared out of her mind. Maybe that’ll teach her to announce her presence. To not follow people in a dark parking lot. To be mindful of her surroundings.
Probably not, but it will always be a funny memory for me.
ME: On my way over now. Attacked Celia by accident.
ELI: You’re going to have to elaborate on that statement when you get here. I could use a good laugh after the day I had.
I didn’t see much of Eli today. While he was on set most of the morning and early afternoon, I was locked away in my office. I had planned to take a break for lunch, but I couldn’t get off the phone. By the time I made it to grab a bite to eat, he was already back on set.
ME: It’s not that funny but I’ll fill you in when I get there. See you in twenty.
ELI: Drive safe. I ordered Thai BTW.
My stomach growls at the mention of food. Thai is one of my personal favorites, too. The aromas, the spice, the unique flavors. A little Pad Thai and some Peanut Curry Noodle sound delicious right now.
Just as I’m about to back out of my spot my phone chimes again. When I look at the screen, I’m surprised to see a text from my mother.
MOTHER: Are you coming home tonight? I was hoping we could talk some more.
ME: I’m having dinner with a friend.
MOTHER: When will you be home?
ME: Too late to talk tonight if I come home at all. I’m off this weekend.
Why did I tell her that? I don’t want to have the same conversation with her over and over again. It’s time to move on. There’s no sense in beating the topic to death. It sure as hell won’t change what happened.
Unless she plans to answer the questions I’ve been asking her all these years.
