Her
grandmother rubbed a wrinkled hand on her knee; a soft, but solid
touch. “Honey, no one intends for half of their lives to happen the way that
they do.”
“But Nana,”
Roxy moved her head so Nana Connie could read the mild panic on her face. “You
don’t understand. It- It’s like my mouth isn’t mine anymore. All this preaching
and confidence-building I’m suddenly capable of… where’s it even coming from?”
“You’re
saying you don’t believe your words?” Nana gave her a funny look.
“Sure I
believe ‘em.” Roxy didn’t blink. "Yet, I
feel like I jumped the gun here. I saw someone in trouble, responded like a
Christian should, and now the network’s placing the outcome of this whole thing
on me. And wondering what a lowly camera director hopes to accomplish by caring
about anything beyond her lens.”
“Tell them
that camera director believes in a benevolent God.” Nana gave a finishing pat
to her knee. “Now, if we’ve cut through that ham, let’s get in the kitchen and
talk turkey.”
Roxy laughed
out loud and followed Nana and her simple answers out of their quiet corner. Her dad was bent over the browned bird,
re-soaking it in the juices. Mr. and Mrs. Davis were peeking in from where they
were helping Angel set the table. They’d borrowed card tables from the Jenkins
to accommodate the extra mouths. Roxy had taken one look at the Davis' emotionally-stressed faces and invited them to her family’s holiday get-together.
A gesture to which Mom had lectured on
over-loading generosity and Dad had bought an extra bag of potatoes. It was
them, Nana, the Davis’, Roxy, Angel, and baby brother Sander. Carols from the
stereo played off the buzzing activity between the rooms. And they helped to
drown out the pinched and nasally voices that had followed Roxy out of the
conference room. She celebrated this as she lent in the parade of the food to
the tables. She was only pulled out of it when the doorbell rang. Roxy waved her parents back and
worked her way to the front door. She swung it open. “Merry Chr- what the
crap?”
The anxious eyes of Blake
Nathan Fournier fell at her exclamation. Roxy recovered herself quickly.
“Sorry. That was an involuntary reaction. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I didn’t announce it.” Blake
admitted with a one-sided shrug. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his
black jeans. Roxy swore, that was where the hands of teenage boys lived!
“Glen might’ve mentioned she was
spending the holidays at your place.” Blake explained, avoiding direct eye contact. “Is… Glen here?”
Roxy got past her surprise,
feeling a little hope at his presence. “We’re all just sitting down at the
table; do we need an extra seat?”
Blake looked surprised that she
was giving him the choice. Roxy took that moment to glance out past him and
across the front yard. “Blake… how’d you even get here?”
“I did a reverse look-up on your
parents’ house number.” Blake admitted sheepishly. “Hopped a plane to ACV. Taxi the rest of the way. Look, I just want to clear
some things up with Glennette. I don’t want her thinking-“
“Worry about that after I introduce you to everybody.”
Roxy turned aside to let him walk in. Blake
stepped through, some of his anxiety shedding off through the threshold. And even
more with the hug that Glennette gave him when she saw him.
+++++
“What’s it
feel like?”
That was
Blake’s question to Glennette before Roxy could enter the room the next
morning. Course, by room, it was the screened-in breezeway off the east side of
the house. Mom kept it looking nice with some whicker furniture, Dad kept it
manly by stacking chopped wood along the far wall. Roxy was on her way to grab
some for a morning fire. Obviously, she wasn’t the only one up this early.
Glennette laughed at him. “Mom says I’ll soon be feeling hands,
feet,… a head.”
Blake’s
silence spoke of his bewilderment. And with the bewilderment
came babbling. “You’re doing ok, right? That morning sickness… that’s
gonna stop, right? I’m sorry about my dad you know. You’re not a- you’re my
friend, Glen.”
“You’re mine
too.” Glennette told him softly.
Roxy was
torn between giving them some privacy and keeping a close eye on them. They
would be seating in the loveseat!
“I’m glad
that you’re going to keep it.” Blake cleared his throat. “Not keep it, keep it,
but… yeah.”
“Thanks to
Roxy,” Glennette broke out a smile. “She convinced the network to not cancel
the show. And Jeff made Micah get on board, so there’s no obstacles there.”
“There’s
plenty.” Blake blew out his breath. “There’s my dad. He keeps telling me that he’s got final say on how this plays out. Whether I like it or
not.”
“Then tell
him you don’t like it!” Glennette’s voice rose as she leaned in on Blake’s
face. “That’s gotta count for something, doesn’t it?”
Blake was
quiet a minute. “You think it would.”
“Is your
contract court-approved?” Roxy stepped in then, startling Blake and Glennette into opposite corners of the loveseat. Roxy went about her intention of
gathering wood, yet directed her words at Blake. “Well?”
“No.” Blake
said after a moment’s thought. “Dad doesn’t involve the federal government
unless he has to.”
The federal
government wasn’t involved because contracts were handled through the state
system. But Roxy would leave that explanation to their tutors. “If the
California system gives your contract a seal of approval, you’re legally bound
to it until it runs out. Or until you turn eighteen.”
Glennette
nodded at Blake. “Maggie’s parents did that with hers.”
Blake’s
posture wound tighter. “And she’s stuck in that police drama for the next five
years.”
“You don’t
want to be stuck with Grading?”
Glennette eyed him anxiously. Blake drew back into his brain, a studious trait
he didn’t share with his character. “Not this year, I don’t. But… what if the
writers go on strike? What if the directors get changed out? What if Dad sues
the studio and puts it the whole thing on hold to deal with the lawsuit?”
Roxy hoisted
the last log into her arms, impressed with the depth of questioning. Glennette,
meanwhile, whipped her eyes to Roxy. “That shouldn’t happen. Tell him, Roxy.”
Roxy’s mouth
dried. There was a lot of trust in
that young girl’s eyes. What’re you doing,
putting me in this spot, God?
Why is the majority of our relationship
questions these days?
Well, you needn’t get technical about it!
“Blake,”
Roxy cleared her throat. “Your dad’s egotistical and money-hungry, but he’s not
stupid. He recognizes that this is your ‘golden’ show. You can act until you’re
sixty, but people are going to remember you as ‘Tony Alkin’ from Grading. This is where the
fame, the future jobs, and yes, the money, is going to stem from. Your dad
doesn’t want anything jeopardizing that, which is why he feels so threatened by
Glennette’s pregnancy.”
Blake looked
at Glennette, then her stomach. “So, even while he’s threatening to rip me off
the show, he won’t?”
I didn’t say that. Roxy disclaimed.
“He won’t.”
Glennette said with a disgusted twist of her lip. “”Not when the show’s his
paycheck as much as it‘s yours.”
Roxy glared
at her, making the girl blush. “You called him egotistical, Roxy.”
“That’s a
given in Hollywood.” Blake chuckled. “But, what am I supposed to do about it?
He’s still my dad.”
Roxy
shuffled the logs, not craving his dilemma of conscience. “Talk to Jeff and
Micah. They can move to have your contract re-drawn up and get it
court-approved with your signature on it. At the most, it’ll bind you to the
show for the next two years.”
Blake
watched Roxy move to leave, unsure.
“Explain the
circumstances to the judge.” Roxy continued talking for his benefit. “You’ll be
showing an honor to your commitment. Any judge’ll see that you know where your
head’s at.”
“The same
head that got a girl pregnant.” Blake muttered, scratching his elbow. Roxy
glanced at Glennette a second. “I’ve already made this clear to Glen; take
responsibility for your actions, but no more then your own.”
Blake looked
at her like she spoke Mandarin. “Meaning?”
“Meaning.”
Glennette repeated. “You weren’t the only one in the bedroom.”
“Oh!”
Blake’s cheeks flared with embarrassment.
“Talk to
Jeff and Micah.” Roxy squashed the awkwardness quickly. “And CALL your dad. A
responsibility you didn’t own up to last night.”
“I left him
an email.” Blake reminded.
“Call him.”
Roxy reiterated, finally making it back into the house. She didn’t miss Blake’s
cough though. “She’s… helpful.”
“Forceful,
more like.” Glennette giggled. “I told you.”
Roxy took
that with the logs into the living room hearth and distracted herself with the
kindling and matches. She had
the first bite of a flame when Dad walked in. He was dressed, but dragged his
feet in slippers. He came over and watched the growing warmth for a few
minutes. “You know that Blake and Glennette are in the breezeway.”
“Of course.”
Roxy looked back over her shoulder at him. He raised a brow. “What’d you
think?”
Roxy blew
out her breath, giving oxygen to the base of the fire. Then she pushed back
onto her haunches. “That they’re two
kids who tried to grow up too fast.”
Dad glanced
back through the house, toward the silent bedrooms. “The Davis’ seem like nice
people; I like them. They’re doing good by their daughter.”
He planted a
heartfelt kiss on Roxy’s head. “Hope you know that your mom and I are feeling
pretty proud of our own.”
“What’d
Angel do?” Roxy joked. She dusted off her hands, eyeing the smudged fingers.
“Everyone keeps asking what I have to gain, being involved in this. That’s
Hollywood for you; everything’s a ‘want’, not a ‘need’.”
Dad found
his familiar spot on the right end of the couch. “It’s like that everywhere,
Roxy.”
“But Dad,”
Roxy plopped down cross-legged beside the fire. “I’M not even sure why I’m
doing it. Just that someone has to.”
“You always
did need all of the facts.” Dad chuckled. “Good thing God has them.”
“I know.”
Roxy groaned. Be if ever so humble of a truth, it was getting old in her ears. You wouldn’t mind sharing some of those facts,
would You?
Their heads
erected at the sound of the doorbell. Roxy glimpsed the wall clock. “Were you
supposed to go fishing with someone?”
The doorbell
rang out again; and again.
“I told
people that it was a family weekend.” Dad grumbled, going for the front door.
Roxy, satisfied with the fire, followed out of curiosity.
Dad swung
the front door open. “Morning. Can I-"
"Mr. Colt." A voice of pompous authority rose over Dad's liveliness. “Get your daughter, Roxana, out here.”
"Mr. Colt." A voice of pompous authority rose over Dad's liveliness. “Get your daughter, Roxana, out here.”
It was a
summons, not a request. And it had Dad’s knuckles going white on the doorknob.
“Excuse me, but I need a name first.”
“Mr.
Fournier.” Roxy moved the door wider and sure enough, Blake’s dad was on her
parents’ stoop. “Good morning. Merry Christmas.”
His eyes
latched onto her like the clamp of a bear trap. “Where’s Blake? His phone’s GPS
puts him here and it hasn’t moved in the whole plane ride and long taxi ride it
took to get me here.”
Roxy nodded,
moving Dad aside. “Blake spent the night here.”
“Because you
invited him.”
“No.” Roxy
laced her fingers at her hip, bracing herself with as much nonchalance as
possible. “Glennette did; without my knowledge.”
That did it
for the hue of Kevin’s stressed cheeks.
“We’ve been
able to talk over a few things since he’s been here.” Roxy continued, her calm
tone scaring her. “Things I guess he hasn’t been able to talk about with you
yet.”
“We did all
of our talking at that meeting.” Kevin’s breath seethed through his clenched
teeth. “I’m not having my son’s name attached to that-“
“Watch it,
Mr. Fournier.” Dad cut in. “Guests in my home are not to be talked of in the
negative.”
Kevin
snorted. “What are you, British? No, I’ll answer that. You’re the nobody father
of a goffer daughter, who finds it her job to poke around in my son’s
business.”
“She’s a
camera director.” Dad corrected, coming back in front of Roxy. “And I’m not liking your attitude, Mr. Fournier. You might want to come back when
you’re feeling more civil.”
“Oh, you think
this’ bad?” Kevin measured Dad glare for glare. “Wait until her boss hears the
reason she’s a penny pusher and not an actress.”
For the
first time since finding Glennette bent over a toilet, Roxy’s chest tightened.
Kevin caught onto the hitch in her breath and gave her a smug grin. “Think
anyone remembers the original cast of Taking
Point? Maybe the slender, red-haired stranger that the press was so excited
about-“
“You’re
leaving.” Dad told him, both feet out the door now.
“Cancelled, right?" Kevin raised his voice as Dad pushed him back.
“Why you figure-“
“Get out!”
Dad shouted over him.
But Kevin wasn’t done. “Was it because your bed was too rough for them?!”
But Kevin wasn’t done. “Was it because your bed was too rough for them?!”
Dad’s fist
finally shut him up.
[CUT TO NEXT SCENE]
Creating realistic dialogue is definitely your gift.
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