Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“What’s your deadline?” Jill asks.
“They requested a concept and pilot in six months, which is coming up soon.”
“Well, good luck.” Jill sends me a commiserating smile. “You’re as bad as Monk with all the side projects. He just got back from New York working on an album for that guy Cutter.”
Monk’s name drops like a bomb unexpectedly into the conversation, but I make sure not to show any reaction. When he is on set, to my dismay, I find myself looking for him, watching him.
There are places on earth where the sun stays below the horizon for long periods of time. Sometimes for six months, the landscape is shrouded in darkness and shadows. I imagine that when that extended night lifts, people are transfixed by the sun, like they’d forgotten its radiance. That’s how it feels when Monk is around. Like the last decade has been a long polar night, and the sun is finally shining. And even though it’s so bright it hurts your eyes, you still can’t look away because you know soon, it will be gone again.
And what if every time you look at the sun, it’s staring back at you?
That’s the part I don’t want to acknowledge, even to myself; that when I catch Monk staring at me, that’s the look in his eyes—like I’m bright enough to capture his attention, but it still hurts to look.
“I hope you’ll consider the party,” Jill says, forcing me to pay attention again. “It’ll be fun and a great way to bond with the cast and crew.”
“I’ll think about it. With your three kids, I thought Halloween would be a big deal at your house and you’d be trick-or-treating.”
“Oh, believe me, it is. But Seth and I take those kids with us everywhere.” She runs one hand through the disarray of her hair. “The party should be family-friendly. We could swing through after making the neighborhood rounds.”
I’ve seen Jill on set with her mini-me, Sienna, who rips around like the Tasmanian Devil, with floppy blonde curls and smears of food all over her face and clothes. The cast embraces the little girl like she’s a favorite niece, indulging her wishes and answering her questions. I steer clear of kids as much as possible, but I have to admit, she’s adorable.
“I love that there’s on-set day care,” I tell Jill. “I’ve never worked on a film that offers that.”
“That’s all Canon. Him sticking to French hours is better for everyone, but I know he’s thinking about us moms. The difference between a ten-hour and a fourteen-hour work day for those of us with kids is invaluable. Hopefully, you’ll have that when you need it.”
“Not me.” I twist the water bottle in my hands. “I’m not having kids.”
“Just not into them?” Before I can respond, understanding touches her expression. “But you don’t need a man for that these days! We have several friends who are women married to women. They’ve adopted or done in vitro if that’s what—”
“No, it’s not that.” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m just not the maternal type, I don’t think.”
“And you don’t have to be.” She angles me an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to be one of those people who assumes every woman wants a litter of children like I did. It’s good you know now you don’t want them.”
She winks. “Some women don’t know until they have them, and then it’s a little late.”
I can’t imagine being responsible for someone else, someone completely helpless, dependent on me, when I’m in a depressive episode and can barely stir the energy to wash my own ass, much less change a diaper. Or in a manic state, when the whole world feels like it revolves around my next whim, and the energy of a spinning top whirs inside of me. Showing up for car pool in the midst of that—unlikely.
“Anyway,” Jill continues, “I work with Canon every chance I get. The only time I haven’t been his cinematographer is when I was on maternity leave. He’s godfather to Sienna.”
“That’s really cool. Everyone thinks of him as this hard-ass—”
“Oh, he is,” she laughingly inserts. “But he also has a tight group of people he trusts and those are like family. Canon’s loyalty to that inner circle knows no bounds. Get him and Monk talking about their early years. Those two have some stories to tell!”
“I can imagine,” I murmur.
“I think he’s coming tomorrow,” Jill says, slanting me a sly look.
“Who?” I ask, faking the funk.
“You know who he is. I won’t pry, but I could have sworn I picked up on a vibe between you and Monk a few months ago at Canon’s house. I bet there’s a story there.”
“Not a good one,” I admit wryly. “Let’s just say him working on that album in New York has probably been for the best.”