Page 66 of Whiskey Splash

Tam looks at me and smiles sweetly. “Which do you want him to be, Ms. Noel? Cause, I like this job and I really don’t want you to get me fired.”

I raise my eyebrows, surprised that Tam thinks I have that kind of power. “I’m pretty sure I can’t get you fired.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tam says, gripping the steering wheel as we bounce down the road. “The fact that Mr. Pike invited you to set means he’s trying really hard to impress you.”

“No, no, no,” I say, shaking my head, noticing the road narrow and that the trees are getting thicker. “You’re making that up!”

Tam shakes his head. “Four years.” He holds up his fingers to emphasize how long he’s been Desmond’s assistant. “Plus, there’s this.”

Tam hands me his phone. The screen is open to a series of text messages from Desmond. Only, all of Desmond’s texts are labeled Mr. Pike instead, because Tam is the poster-child for politeness, which I actually really like about him. I scroll through the messages where Desmond is telling Tam to pick me up. The first few messages tell Tam my name and my address, plus when he should be on my doorstep. But it’s the last text underneath them that makes me release a breath. It says:

Desmond:She’s going to give you a hundred reasons for why she shouldn’t show up today, but please make sure she gets here. I really don’t want to mess it up with this one.

I have to read the text several times to make sure I didn’t imagine it, to make sure the mushrooms in my omelet this morning are not making me hallucinate. Does it really say that?I really don’t want to mess it up with this one.

My throat feels tight.

It does. It says it in black and white.

About me.

I hand the phone back to Tam, my fingers slippery.

“You weren’t supposed to show that to me, were you?” I say softly, staring out the front windshield at the jungle of trees that stretch over the dirt road.

“Nope.” He tucks the phone into his pocket. “I most definitely was not.”

The car rocks, jolting back and forth with the roughness of the road beneath us. The trees zip over the car in a beautiful blur of green making my stomach a bit queasy.

“Why would you—?” But I bite my lip and swallow my words. Of course, I already know the answer. Because Tam actually respects his boss, maybe even sees him as a friend. He’s looking out for Desmond. He’s making sure I’m not some money-sucking fame-grabbing succubus who’s going to turn his boss’s life upside down and spit out his heart like a piranha.

I roll down the window and take a deep breath, trying to cool the buzz inside my head. The mist of sweat that coats my neck is a slippery slope warning me to be careful. To think through why I’m here and what I really want.

I reach over and graze Tam’s elbow softly.

“I promise I won’t get you fired,” I say honestly, touched that Desmond has someone watching his back, but also overwhelmed by the weight of what’s just been dropped in my lap.

My fingers fall from Tam’s elbow and I breathe in the salty ocean smell and the muggy tang of palm trees and summer rain. It fills my lungs with a balloon of emotion I’m not sure how to hold, warning me to tell Tam to turn around and take me home.

“We’re here,” Tam says, before I can breathe any words of retreat, turning us into a parking area in the middle of the jungle. There are trailers and equipment trucks lining the opening, and through the trees I see the beach littered with pop-up tents and people assembling lights and camera equipment. Tam rolls down his window to wave at a security guard who stands at the corner and flags us in, pointing out where we should park.

I notice Tam text Desmond that we’re here, but then he whisks me out of the car and gives me a rundown of basecamp rather than taking me to see his boss. Basecamp is what Tam calls the area with all the trucks and trailers, before pointing out all the different departments and their respective stations. There’s art and props and special effects and costumes and hair and makeup. Crew members are carting all sorts of equipment toward the beach: large rolls of cable, giant lights, metal poles and flags, carts and dollies.

If that wasn’t overwhelming enough, Tam walks us to the beach where the set is and explains that this scene is a showdown with the radiation creature. The sand is covered in debris and scorch marks, and there are long gashes like Godzilla tracks all over the shoreline. I make a crack about radioactive monsters when a crew member walks by with a tub of what looks like green Jell-O, and Tam explains that I’d be surprised at what looks convincing as radio-active blood on-screen. He goes on to cite something about black duct tape being used for the blasters inStar Warsand that old tricks are sometimes still the best.

True to his eloquence, Tam politely introduces me to most of the crew members that we pass, telling me their names and job titles—grips and gaffers and some such jargon that I’ll never remember. Primarily, I’m impressed that Tam knows everyone, and goes out of his way to make sure I don’t feel like an invisible outsider. But the one thorn in my side is the fact that Tam is distinctly introducing me as one of his old friends who happens to live on the island.

Not once does he mention me in relation to Desmond.

After my umpteenth introduction to some producers and production assistants, the latter of which kindly ran off to get me one of those fancy director chairs to sit, Tam and I have a moment alone and I can ask him what game we’re really playing.

“Is there a reason we’re pretending I don’t know Desmond?” I ask pointedly, as Tam clips a walkie-talkie radio to his belt and strings the earbud from the device into his left ear like a secret service agent.

“Oh?” Tam looks up at me surprised. “I’m sorry. You seemed extra nervous in the car about people knowing what your relationship to Mr. Pike was. I thought people would ask fewer questions if I introduced you this way. Is that a problem, ma’am?”

“Seriously, Tam,” I say, as two PA’s walk up with chairs for us and unfold them. “You don’t have to call me ma’am.”

“I can also call you Ms. Noel,” Tam says, and I roll my eyes.

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