Page 17 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“It’s going to be ok,” she says in a softer tone. “There’s no pressure to answer anything you don’t want to. If there’s something you’re not comfortable with, we’ll skip it. Just say the word. That’s what editing is for.”

I take a deep breath and nod.

“Let’s do this.”

“I try to ask everyone this because I find it fascinating,” says Sara. “How do you separate work from genuine pleasure? How do younotdevelop a crush on someone you’re working with?”

I’ve practiced this one. People ask me all the time.

“For me, it’s a matter of flipping a switch in my brain. These are colleagues, co-workers, so that’s how I see them. It’s all a performance, right?”

“I’m sure a lot of people believe it’s all real and many of us are friends, but sometimes it really is just a one-and-done thing. No real connection.”

“It’s just work,” I agree. “That’s not to say I don’t have fun, of course.” I wink, playfully. Sara grins before moving on.

“This might be hard, but do you mind sharing yourworstexperience since starting collabs?”

“I worked with someone a couple months ago,” I start, fighting the urge to look down at my hands. I maintain eye contact with Sara. “We’d discussed the basics. Paying me because I was driving a full day just to get to him, a couple scenes we’d do, all that stuff. When I got there…” I trail off, not wanting to go on a rant, but not wanting to leave out the important stuff. It's easy for women in the industry to be demonized for speaking out against men or studios. The thought of losing everything I've worked so hard to build is terrifying.

“You don’t have to,” Sara offers.

“No, it’s ok.” I started the story and it deserves to be finished. I take a deep breath and continue. “His place was absolutely disgusting. I don’t mean untidy. I can handle untidy, but my socks were black after just a couple minutes. But on top of that, his specialty is rim jobs. And, well…”

“No.” The horror in Sara’s blue eyes tells me she knows exactly what happened.

“Yeah, that was the firstand lasttime I will ever do that.”

“What an ass.” She pauses. “No pun intended.”

“Yeah, and afterward, he called me a bitch, didn’t pay me, and blocked me.” I shrug.

“Are-are you serious?”

“Yup.”

“Jesus.” Sara shakes her head. “I can’t believe he had the gall to stiff you. Literally and figuratively.”

“I should’ve driven right back home as soon as I arrived,” I mutter. It’s true. My intuition was screaming at me to run away. That it was a bad idea to continue. “I stayed because I thought I had to.”

“I’ve been there.” Sara reaches out and places a hand on mine. “It’s hard to know when you can say no. When you can just turn the car around. Plus if you’re hurting for cash, it gives you even more incentive to stay.”

“I learned my lesson though.”

“At least there’s that.”

I look down and Sara pulls her hand back, then speaks in a low voice.

“Hey, if you want me to cut that, I will. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

I meet her eyes and I can see in those blue depths that I’m not alone. It may not have been thesamething, but she’s been through similar trauma. Pressure to perform, thefeeling that you have absolutely no choice, not wanting to anger someone–specifically a man–by saying no to something. It’s a terrifying situation to be in.

“No, it’s ok. Those stories matter even if just one person benefits from it.”

Sara smiles and takes a deep breath to continue.

“Let’s end on a high note, shall we? What’s been yourbestexperience?”

“You know, despite that last story, I really have worked with some amazing people. I can’t pick just one, but this week I worked with Vera Connor and Penny Pepper. They’re such amazing women. We even met for dinner last night. It’s the kind of support and friendship that I think women need in this industry.”

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