“We are recording,” Evan interjects, pointing to the camera set up at the front of the room. It’s far enough back to capture everyone seated around the U-shaped table. “So don’t be thrown off by that. We have food coming. There’s water here. If you need anything, let me or Graham know, and we’ll take care of it. Before we start, we’d like everyone to introduce themselves.”
Mallory outdid herself casting this movie. I was anal about the role of Dessi, but Mallory and I have been working together for years. I trust her instincts, and they did not fail me. Even Trey turned out to be the right choice for Cal. I don’t particularly like the thought of him, all Disney and Nick at Nite, but the reality of him isn’t so bad.
I know everyone, so I tune them out for the most part, and flip through the script marking up places I want to pay special attention to.
Jill Brigston, seated beside me, bumps my shoulder. She’s the best cinematographer I’ve ever met and would have an Oscar by now if she was a man.
“I can feel you vibrating,” she leans over to whisper while the cast introduce themselves.
“What do you mean?”
“This crazy energy comes off you when we start a new project,” she says, green eyes sparkling with knowing humor under her shock of blonde hair.
She would know. She’s worked with me on just about every movie for the last ten years.
“I’m Neevah Saint.”
I stiffen, but don’t look up from my script. Don’t need to. I know exactly where she is in the room. To my right. Three chairs down, seated beside Trey. She’s wearing a white sundress that leaves her shoulders bare and smooth, along with a colorful headwrap from which her wild tresses sprout and overflow. There are lingering traces of a Southern accent in her voice, like honey sprinkled into something savory. At this point, it’s been nearly a year since I first saw her onstage and a few months since she flew out for Trey’s screen test. We’ve spoken a couple of times about the script, research, making sure she feels prepared, but any non-essential communication has gone through Evan and Graham, as it typically would.
I don’t need distractions or entanglements. She could be considered both. Of course, I’ll have to interact with her as the director, but I’ve decided to limit any contact beyond that to only the absolutely necessary.
“I’m really grateful for this opportunity,” Neevah says. “And honestly still pinching myself that I’m even here. The more I learn about Dessi, the more I realize what a privilege it is to introduce people to her story, to her life.”
I look up to see her spread a warm smile around the room.
“And I do hope to make lots of friends.”
That evokes a small murmur of laughter before the next cast members introduce themselves.
“I like her,” Jill says, pitching her voice low.
“Why?”
“She’s one of those people who pulls you in. Ya know? She’s sincere. And I have an instinct about folks.” She taps her nose. “I can smell a phony a mile away, and she’s the real deal. Good job finding her.”
“Monk found her.”
“Um, you fought pretty hard for her.”
I snap a glance up to study her face. “How do you know that?”
“Evan told me.”
“Figures.” I roll my eyes. “She’s the right choice.”
“I believe it and I saw her screen test. I see why you’re so into her.”
“I am not into . . .” I cut my words off when I realize how closely Jill is watching my face. Dammit. I gave her too much. Jill’s as observant as an owl.
“I am not,” I finish more evenly, “into her.”
Graham shoots us the kind of look reserved for kids talking in church. She puts a silencing finger to her lips.
“I just know talent when I see it,” I say in a barely audible whisper.
“Sometimes you just know,” Jill agrees, smiling like a sly cat. I don’t even want to speculate what that means or what idea has gotten lodged in her head.
Once the introductions are complete, I stand. Jill is right. I’m basically vibrating with the need to get started. I school my expression to implacable, but inside, my desire to tell this story echoes like a voice that hasn’t been used in a long time and is ready to sing.
“Alright,” I say. “If that’s everyone, get out your scripts. Let’s read this thing through.”
21
Neevah
“Will you run lines with me real quick?” I ask Takira.
She’s putting finishing touches on my eyeshadow. Turned out the chick they hired to do makeup wasn’t that great, so Takira offered to handle that, too. She cut her teeth in New York, and has done hair and makeup for TV shows, theater, movies, and commercials. Every possible medium runs through the city, and she has experience in them all.