Page 41 of The Reunion

“Ransom was over pretty late,” I admit, unable to keep it to myself. It’s Bre, for one—and it also feels more than a little relevant. “Not that I’m going to tell Bryan that.”

“Liv Latimer! I need to knoweverything!” she squeals, and I know I’m forgiven for the interruption to her workout. “I mean, uh. You know.Afteryour first big day on set. Which, I’m sure, is on hold untilyou get there. I’ll call Bryan back for you in a minute and report that you’re on your way—right?”

I peek out my front window, see Jimmy’s Mercedes idling in my driveway. He’s got a thing for thrillers, and I can see his latest read open and resting on his steering wheel. Still, I feel bad for making him wait, and that I didn’t hear either of his two attempts to call me.

“Yes, please and thank you.” I tighten the lid on my water bottle, sling it into my tote with all the rest of my things. “Could you also do me a favor after that?”

I tell her about a book I recently saw advertised on Snapaday, a new release by Eric Zhang that comes out at the end of next month—I’ve spent so much time in Jimmy’s presence, the algorithms in my social media have started giving me ads for his favorite authors. I ask Bre to work whatever magic she possesses that will make an advance copy of the book appear on my doorstep.

“So sorry I’m late,” I say to Jimmy, which I’m sure is only the first time I’ll say that this morning. By the time I’m on set and settled in at hair and makeup forty minutes later, I’ve definitely said it at least six more times.

“You’re not the only one who was late,” my hairstylist, Emilio, says conspiratorially. “Your boyfriend rolled in at six twenty this morning. I thought Bryan was about to lose his mind when neither of you showed up on time.”

My heart leaps into my throat until I realize he’s only talking about Ransom in the context of being myon-screenboyfriend and that he has no clue anything more could be going on behind the scenes.

“Well, I’m glad I’m not alone,” I say smoothly, hoping it isn’t written all over my face that Ransom was at my place last night.

By some miracle, we’re not too far behind schedule—Emilio made quick work of my hair, and my makeup artist, Gretchen, is some sort of wizard whose gifts allow her to simultaneously bend timeandmake me look effortlessly luminous. I get a death glare from Bryan when I walk on set, but that’s it—Sasha-Kate and Millie are mid scene on whatever he shifted around to shoot instead of the scene Ransom and I had been slated to do first thing.

Ransom’s hanging out on the far side of the soundstage near craft services, sliding a pile of doughnuts onto his plate; an assistant around Bre’s age looks on hungrily with heart eyes—at Ransom, not the doughnuts. I doubt she even realizes she’s staring.

I slip across the room as silently as possible so as not to interrupt the scene. “Morning,” I whisper once I’m close, loud enough that only he can hear. He gives me a lopsided grin, the same montage flashback from last night clearly playing across both our memories.

I join him in front of a tray of tropical fruit. At the sight of this particular fruit mountain, my stomach unleashes a startlingly loud growl—I whip around to make sure the noise hasn’t interrupted the shoot, but in doing so, I accidentally knock a pair of tongs from the table. They hit the floor with a clang, which earns me yet another death glare from both Bryan and Sasha-Kate. She and Millie were in the middle of a quiet, serious moment, and I’ve just ruined it.

Sorry, I mouth in their direction.

Ransom passes me a clean pair of tongs, and I pile a sunny selection of mango and pineapple on my plate. This day needs a turnaround, andfast.It isn’t like me to show up anything less than perfectly on time—had I actually delayed the schedule instead of just causing it to shift around a bit, I would be getting more than just a series of not-so-subtle death glares from Bryan. I’ve seen extras fired for less. Even though no one would ever fire me fromthisparticular production, there are other ways to remind a girl who’s running the show. If anyone—from Bryan all the way up the chain to Bob Renfro and Shine Jacobs—decides I’m not taking this seriously, word could spread around town and affect the reputation I’ve worked so hard to earn.

We should have been more careful last night.

Sasha-Kate and Millie knock out their scene after only three more takes, and then it’s our turn. To my credit—especially after the morning I’ve had—I’m rock-solid in our first scene. I don’t miss a line, don’t miss a beat.

Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for Ransom. The man needs a solid six hours of sleep to be fully functional, minimum, and he must have gotten, what—three or four?

The scene is nothing short of a disaster. We’re not shooting in order—Bryan set the schedule up according to our big set pieces and which ones would be the most efficiently grouped together each day. Today’s scene falls toward the end of the episode. It’s supposed to be a pivotal, emotional moment between Duke and Honor, but every single one of Ransom’s lines has fallen flat so far—and that’s when he hasn’t missed his cue or forgotten his lines altogether.

“Let’s take it from the top,” Bryan says, not so subtly checking his watch. “Again.”

I can feel the tension radiating from him, the frustration he’s not even trying to mask. His frown deepens, so much so that it can be hard to remember that off set, he’s actually an incredibly chill guy. It’s a good thing, too, because otherwise his blood pressure would pose a serious health risk.

Ransom and I lock eyes.

You’ve got this, I think, wondering if we’ve been through enough hours on set in our lives for him to read my mind.

He gives a subtle nod and takes a long, slow breath.

Even the clapper loader seems irritated as he aggressively snaps the clapboard shut, our signal to begin. Again.

INT. DUKE’S BEACH BUNGALOW - LATE AFTERNOON

Duke ties his running shoes and slips a pair of wireless earbuds in his ears. He’s on his way out, a little distracted by the music app on his phone, but when he opens his front door, there’s Honor.

HONOR

Sorry, is this a bad time?

Duke pulls his earbuds back out again, tucks them in his pocket.

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