Page 35 of Take It Till You Make It
“Sally, what do you say to an interview for my podcast?” We’re seated in the cafeteria, eating lunch.
“I’d love that! Interviews are fun.”
“And I hope this one will be especially fun. Tomorrow after the shoot? We’re scheduled to finish at the same time.” We’re shooting a particularly emotional scene tomorrow, so ending the day with some levity might help. “Can we do it in your trailer?”
“I’ll make sure it’s okay with Aunt Channie.”
Sally’s grinning at me like we’re going to Disneyland. She’ll be the perfect first guest for my resurrection. Of course, I’ll have to film an introduction podcast. I haven’t quite gotten my head around that one, yet, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get the first guest episode going while I figure it out.
“Can I join you?”
Sally and I look up to find Crispin holding a tray of food, waiting patiently for permission to be seated. I glance at Sally, who glances at me. She’s as surprised as I am.
I snag my bag off the empty chair. “Sure.”
I can’t help my confused expression as I look at the food on his plate and assess him for mental illness.
“I didn’t think you ate here,” I say.
“Those fajitas you had the other day looked great. I’m really bummed they don’t have them today.” He smiles down at my food. “I see you got the appropriate substitute as well.”
I grin. “Nachos are definitely a close second to fajitas.” I pick up a chip piled high with refried beans, cheese, salsa, guacamole, and sour cream and shove it into my mouth.
Sally, who has a tasty-looking chicken salad, studies Crispin as she blindly spears at her food with her fork. “I thought you had something against eating here too. I’ve only seen you in here to grab a snack or something to drink.”
I squint at her to see if she’s trying to call him out on something, but she seems genuinely curious, so I shift my attention to Crispin, awaiting his answer. He actually looks out of place here for some reason. He’s still in his Jeff makeup and hair, so he looks impossibly clean-cut. Maybe that’s why.
Crispin looks around as if to see if anyone is within hearing distance. Then he leans forward and says in a quiet voice. “It’s true. I either disappear into my trailer or hightail it off set as soon as I have a chance. Honestly, it’s rare that I enjoy the company of my fellow castmates.”
Sally and I look at one another with raised brows.
“Seriously?” Sally asks. “Didn’t you just finish a movie with Wes Tyler? And before that, Annie Spannali?”
Crispin grimaces at her question but waits to finish chewing before he speaks. “Wes is a great guy in small bites. He’s a bit overbearing and always wants to be in the center of a party atmosphere, even if he has to create it. Annie…Annie is a snob. Everything has to be designer or notable with her. I passed muster because I’ve been around the business for so long and have name recognition, but she would literally never give either of you the time of day.”
I know what he’s saying is probably true, but for some reason, it digs the wrong way. I remind myself not to shoot the messenger.
“Terrell.” He looks at me. “The guard we saw on the day of the table read?”
I nod and smile. “I know T.”
He shakes his head. “She was always so rude to him. If she had simply ignored him, it would have been one thing, but she went out of her way to say hurtful things. He does not deserve that.”
Okay. Yeah. Definitely don’t shoot the messenger.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I don’t mean to gossip about anyone. I’m just trying to explain why I usually stay away from the set.”
Sally stares at me with intent when she says to him, “Maybe she just uses thatpersona—” she emphasizes the word dramatically, so I roll my eyes. “—as a cover. Like a thick skin to keep herself safe from the harsh media and rabid fans.”
Crispin, too busy digging into his pile of nachos to catch Sally’s dual conversation, shakes his head. “No, unfortunately, not Annie. And honestly, I don’t care when people feel the need to have a label inside their clothes with a recognizable name, or they carry around a purse puppy while their personal assistant trails behind under the burden of their personal belongings. I literally don’t care how people choose to live their lives as long as they are kind.”
“But that’s not how you come off.” It’s out of my mouth before I can even think about it.
His attention snaps to me. “What do you mean?”
I sit back and cross my arms. “Oh, come on. You must know you have a major superiority complex. Or at least that’s what you show to strangers.”
“No, I don’t. Just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I think I’m better than others.”
