great. If you don’t mind.”
“Perfect.” Troy
released Vish and linked her arm with Carlotta’s. “One of the PAs told me
they’re about ready for us. Shall we?” With a wink and a wave at Vish, she led
Carlotta over to the set, where the director and Freddie huddled in
conversation.
There was
something so nice about Troy. She didn’t make a stink about little
inconveniences, she was free of neuroses, she went out of her way to make
everyone feel relaxed and welcome. Though from Ridpath’s account, that wasn’t
always the case…
Vish stared
after Troy and wondered.
Chapter Eleven
“I t went well, I thought,” Troy said. She
settled back into her chair and glanced at Carlotta over the rim of her
margarita. “Carlotta, you were great.”
“Thanks. So
were you. It was a fun day.”
The three
nestled into a corner table at a trendy Mexican bar down the street from the
production facility. Carlotta had the only chair; Vish and Troy shared an
upholstered bench that ran along the wall beneath a stylized mosaic of the
Virgin Mary done in shiny bottle caps. A basket of multicolored tortilla chips
and chunky guacamole sat on the table in front of them, but no one had touched
it, Troy and Carlotta because working actresses didn’t eat, and Vish because
he’d grazed his way across the craft services table during the tedious evening
of taping.
It was nice to
unwind now with light conversation and margaritas that came in glasses the size
of a human skull. Vish hadn’t thought the day was fun. He’d thought it had been
murderously long. But Troy appeared to think things were great, and whether her
enthusiasm was real or feigned, it was infectious. Troy held her glass in one
hand and kept her free hand on the small of his back. Vish could feel the
angsty coil of stress in his spine unwind at her touch, and his dour mood
lightened.
“How long have
you two been together?” Carlotta asked. “You’re a couple, right?”
“We are,” Troy
said. She broke into a huge smile, and Vish felt giddy. “It’s been fast. We
only met a couple weeks ago, but…” She widened her eyes. “It was obvious from
the start that Vish and I had so much in common.”
She told the
story of their relationship from her perspective, about seeing Vish at the shop
and realizing he was injured and marching him straight to the hospital. Maybe
there was some Nightingale syndrome at work—maybe Troy had fallen for him
because she could fuss over him and fix his life—but she certainly seemed to
feel genuine affection toward him. Love, even. Maybe.
“That’s so
sweet,” Carlotta said. “You two look great together.” Her expression was
wistful as she looked at them, and Vish understood that. He understood being
alone and feeling purposeless and adrift. And now, with Troy, that was all
behind him, and all he could do was smile at Carlotta in sympathy and hope
things worked out for her.
Carlotta didn’t
show up on set the next day, which was odd. She’d seemed thrilled about the
role; she’d left the restaurant sober and at a reasonable hour. Hard to imagine
why she’d blown off the shoot.
When Freddie’s
office tried to reach her, she didn’t answer her phone. One of the PAs drove
out to her apartment in the Valley and pounded on her door, to no avail. Eventually,
the scene she’d done with Troy was hastily re-shot with a replacement, summoned
via a casting agent at the last second.
In the end,
though, it hardly mattered, because the show went on an unexpected hiatus at
the end of the week, with filming on the current episode unfinished.
In this case,
“hiatus” was almost certainly a polite way of saying “canceled.” The word was
never spoken outright, but everyone knew the network was unhappy with the soggy
ratings and thus had ordered production to cease for a month while the scripts
for upcoming episodes were retooled and revised. After that, the network would
make a decision as to whether to finish out the
“Perfect.” Troy
released Vish and linked her arm with Carlotta’s. “One of the PAs told me
they’re about ready for us. Shall we?” With a wink and a wave at Vish, she led
Carlotta over to the set, where the director and Freddie huddled in
conversation.
There was
something so nice about Troy. She didn’t make a stink about little
inconveniences, she was free of neuroses, she went out of her way to make
everyone feel relaxed and welcome. Though from Ridpath’s account, that wasn’t
always the case…
Vish stared
after Troy and wondered.
Chapter Eleven
“I t went well, I thought,” Troy said. She
settled back into her chair and glanced at Carlotta over the rim of her
margarita. “Carlotta, you were great.”
“Thanks. So
were you. It was a fun day.”
The three
nestled into a corner table at a trendy Mexican bar down the street from the
production facility. Carlotta had the only chair; Vish and Troy shared an
upholstered bench that ran along the wall beneath a stylized mosaic of the
Virgin Mary done in shiny bottle caps. A basket of multicolored tortilla chips
and chunky guacamole sat on the table in front of them, but no one had touched
it, Troy and Carlotta because working actresses didn’t eat, and Vish because
he’d grazed his way across the craft services table during the tedious evening
of taping.
It was nice to
unwind now with light conversation and margaritas that came in glasses the size
of a human skull. Vish hadn’t thought the day was fun. He’d thought it had been
murderously long. But Troy appeared to think things were great, and whether her
enthusiasm was real or feigned, it was infectious. Troy held her glass in one
hand and kept her free hand on the small of his back. Vish could feel the
angsty coil of stress in his spine unwind at her touch, and his dour mood
lightened.
“How long have
you two been together?” Carlotta asked. “You’re a couple, right?”
“We are,” Troy
said. She broke into a huge smile, and Vish felt giddy. “It’s been fast. We
only met a couple weeks ago, but…” She widened her eyes. “It was obvious from
the start that Vish and I had so much in common.”
She told the
story of their relationship from her perspective, about seeing Vish at the shop
and realizing he was injured and marching him straight to the hospital. Maybe
there was some Nightingale syndrome at work—maybe Troy had fallen for him
because she could fuss over him and fix his life—but she certainly seemed to
feel genuine affection toward him. Love, even. Maybe.
“That’s so
sweet,” Carlotta said. “You two look great together.” Her expression was
wistful as she looked at them, and Vish understood that. He understood being
alone and feeling purposeless and adrift. And now, with Troy, that was all
behind him, and all he could do was smile at Carlotta in sympathy and hope
things worked out for her.
Carlotta didn’t
show up on set the next day, which was odd. She’d seemed thrilled about the
role; she’d left the restaurant sober and at a reasonable hour. Hard to imagine
why she’d blown off the shoot.
When Freddie’s
office tried to reach her, she didn’t answer her phone. One of the PAs drove
out to her apartment in the Valley and pounded on her door, to no avail. Eventually,
the scene she’d done with Troy was hastily re-shot with a replacement, summoned
via a casting agent at the last second.
In the end,
though, it hardly mattered, because the show went on an unexpected hiatus at
the end of the week, with filming on the current episode unfinished.
In this case,
“hiatus” was almost certainly a polite way of saying “canceled.” The word was
never spoken outright, but everyone knew the network was unhappy with the soggy
ratings and thus had ordered production to cease for a month while the scripts
for upcoming episodes were retooled and revised. After that, the network would
make a decision as to whether to finish out the
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