Page 58 of The Reunion

“His publicist, too, and don’t get me started on her,” he says. “She’s making evenmelose focus.”

“Sounds like a winning combination.”

After a whirlwind trip to hair and makeup to make it look like I’ve just come off an afternoon at the beach—not hard, given the state I arrived in—I get to experience the strained vibe on set for myself. I slide onto the bench of a red vinyl diner booth, and Ransom settles in next to me. We begin as soon as I’m ready.

Our producers, Nathaniel and Gabe, are also here today, silently observing from the shadows, which always adds a layer of pressure. And then there’s Ransom’s dad and publicist, both breathing right down Bryan’s neck. The publicist, Andrea, looks chic in her black pantsuit and stilettos, sun-kissed and luminous and extremely confident. She’s so confident, in fact, that she’s not afraid to hover over Bryan’s shoulder during the shoot, reading the handwritten notes from his clipboard. When she’s not reading, she’s watching Ransom, appraising his every move.

Numerous takes later, we’re all on edge.

“Cut!” Bryan calls outagain. I’ve lost track of how many times we’ve had to start over, how many fresh milkshakes the prop department has had to prepare because they keep melting under the lights. Bryan wasn’t exaggerating about Ransom’s head being in the clouds. “Everybody, take five.”

He bolts from his director’s chair, clipboard tucked tightly under his arm. Nathaniel and Gabe follow him out.

“Sorry, guys,” Ransom says under his breath, sliding out of the booth. “I need a minute.”

“Please,” Ford says, holding up his cookies ’n’ cream shake. “I’m living the dream, ten of these in one day!”

Cassidy laughs. “If I have to pluck one more maraschino cherry off the top, though, I might throw it at someone instead of popping it into my mouth.” She’s a welcome addition, at ease with all of us despite the generally uncomfortable mood in the room.

I slide out of the booth, too, ready to follow Ransom, but before I get too far, Andrea intercepts him. His dad approaches his other side, putting an arm around his shoulders in that subtly patronizing way that’s always gotten under Ransom’s skin. Moves like that embarrassed him enough at sixteen; I can only imagine what he’s feeling now.

Instead, I head over to my bag, pull out my phone. I’ve missed three more texts from Attica—two additional requests, along with oneI know you’re shooting right now, but it would be ideal for those behind-the-scenes stories to post in the next hour or so!

I take a deep breath.Busy day on set, I write back.I’ll do my best. I have to make a conscious effort to unclench my jaw.

Switching into my message thread with Bre, I scroll back through our history to remind myself what she’s up to today.Any chance you want a behind-the-scenes look at the show?I type out.Ransom’s dad and publicist are wrecking the shoot, and I need help keeping my chill.I hit send, then add,Also, I’d love you forever if you could post some stuff to my stories so Attica will stop texting every five minutes

Three dots pop up immediately.Going that well?she sends, along with a stressed-face emoji.

I think at this point Bryan would welcome an earthquake to get them to back off, I reply.

Yeah, they sound SO helpful, she writes.Okay, be there as soon as humanly possible. I’m not far but you know LA

It takes Bryan a full ten minutes to return to set, despite the fact that he was the one who called us off for five, with Gabe and Nathaniel close behind. Andrea and Mr. Joel are still over in a dark corner, talking Ransom’s ear off in hushed, harsh tones. Somehow I don’t think this is what he had in mind when he said he needed a minute.

Cassidy appears at my side. “This… is not what I expected,” she says, seeming absolutely unfazed by my presence. “Is it usually like this?”

“Yeah, no. It’s never like this.”

Neveris a stretch—I can remember a handful of tense days like this in our later seasons, coinciding with the weeks it took to negotiate our massive salary increases. Mr. Joel was on set more often than not in those days, watching every scene, giving Ransom direction from the wings. Bryan tolerated it, but only because Mr. Joel’s instincts were usually spot-on. Andrea wasn’t in the mix back then, though. Neither were two decades’ worth of fraught history between Ransom and his dad.

“You’re holding your own really well,” I tell Cassidy.

Heat floods her cheeks. “It’s easy to act like you’re attracted to Ford Brooks when he was your childhood crush,” she says, grinning. “The hard part is making it look like acting.”

I laugh. “So, I have to ask—which phase of Ford’s hair was your favorite?”

“Honestly? I’m loving this current look more than any so far,” she says. Production was all over the short-at-the-sides, longer-and-swooping-on-top look they gave him for theEWcover shoot—he’ll be stealing some of Ransom’s fanbase forsure. “I’ve gotta admit, though, I was most definitely into his man bun back in the day.”

“I will never not love that his hair was the sole reason for a massive trend,” I say, “especially because as easygoing as he is, he hated that man bun so, so—”

“Would you justdrop it?” Ransom’s voice booms from the far corner of the set.

Everyone freezes. Everything’s still.

Everything, that is, except for Ransom himself, who turns on his heel and walks away from Andrea and his father without a backward glance.

I’ve never heard Ransom raise his voice like that. Never.

---