The Cutting Floor ~ Scene Five

         Did this actually work? Roxy focused her lens to get the finer lines of Glennette- ‘Wendy’s’- face. Now on eppy 6 of season 3, things had fallen into their traditional rhythm on the set. Ian and Jordan Cooper had worked their magic with the script, keeping Glennette’s scenes like bread crumbs through the first half of the season. All without losing their witty dialogue. Hair and make-up finished in record time, and lighting was on a roll this week.

         “Quiet on the set!” the floor manager bellowed, sending the crew scurrying like mice into their positions. “And… ACTION!”

         There was that suspended second, where time transitioned from reality to TV. Roxy was positive she always felt a shift inside that second, but she didn’t waste her paycheck being philosophical about it. Blake walked into the shot, wrestling with the chicken he was supposed to be babysitting. The poultry flapped and squawked, catching ‘Wendy’s’ attention. A carefree smile went on across her face. “Trouble in the hen house?”

         Blake- ‘Tony’s’- face washed in relief. “Wendy! You gotta help me!”

         And as always, their chemistry carried them through. Glennette’s belly, this time, was covered by the table she sat at. She dropped her head into her hand, right on cue. “When are you going to get that I’m not your personal savior?”

         “When you run out of brilliant ways to save my butt.” ‘Tony’ rocked the chicken to keep it quiet. 

         “And what’d you plan on doin’ when I’m not around?” 'Wendy' ventured to him. Roxy prayed over the angle that Camera 1 would get of 'Tony’s' perplexed look. “Oh c’mon, Wen, when are you not gonna be around?”

         Roxy made Glennette’s anxious, evasive eyes the focal of her shot. ‘Tony’ moved on. “Help me find a new sweater for this chicken before Mrs. Montgomery finds out.”

         ‘Wendy’ shook her head in her sassy way, the moment gone. “You’re on your own, Chicken Whisperer. My butt-saving agency is closed.”

         ‘Tony’s’ mouth fell open. “Ok… fine! I don’t need you or your agency!”

         And he stomped off of the set. Another second and the yell of ‘CUT!’ rang out. It was like breaking the seal on a soundproof booth. Make-up, lights, and the gophers picked up where they left off. Roxy stopped her film and worked the camera around to ensure the film had stopped rolling. She glanced up- out of habit- as Blake came back onto the set, chicken-less, and helped Glennette out of the booth. She saw the question on his lips, ‘You doin’ okay?’

         He had been asking her before and after every take, ever since they had started the season. Glennette still had nine weeks to go and her bulge wasn’t all that big. Given her frame, that wasn’t surprising. But Blake asked anyway, his levels of attentiveness blowing Roxy’s mind. He may not believe in You, but he sure leads a good example.
         Even faith small as a mustard seed... God recalled into her mind. Roxy doted on it; the hope it presented...

         “Latest review.” Jeff’s voice creeped up on her as Roxy turned from the camera. “I don’t read them, Jeff.”

         “You let yourself be ignorant.” He eyed her in a way that searched her. Searched for explanations. Well, Roxy was done giving those.

         “Blake and Glen are handling it well.” Jeff went on, the magazine in his hands flashing off the overhead lights. “Like pros.”

         “We’ve been praying before every interview.” Roxy nodded that fact in. “I’m sure that helps. And Glennette’s parents have gotten more supportive.”

         “All of America has.” Jeff said, following her. “Glennette’s fan mail has doubled, lots of girls who… have found themselves in the same situation.”

         “Ok.” Roxy eyed the snack table; she hadn’t had lunch yet.

         “But it seemed that Kourtney Irwin was more interested in the story behind the story.” 

         Kourtney Irwin... the reporter's name rang a bell, but Roxy didn't know where from. She snatched up a Nature Valley bar. “And?”

         “She talked to Kevin Fournier.”

         Roxy registered that while her stomach took pleasure in the oat and honey flavor of her lunch.

         “It’s her article I’m reading,” Jeff came around, the magazine staring at Roxy in the place of his face. She stopped and sighed. “Fine, I’m listening.”

         Jeff lowered it, expressing gratitude. “Miss Irwin ends it with a question; when will we hear from Hollywood’s own Mother Teresa.”

         Roxy choked on the granola. “She doesn’t call me that.”

         “Read it and see."

         Roxy turned away with the remainder of her bar. “I’m not interested in any interviews, Jeff.”

         “Roxy,” Jeff walked alongside her, hopscotching over the wires snaking across the floor. “You’ve been putting a lot into this. Could be time for you to get something back.”

         “That’s not the point.”

         “So you’ll just let Kevin say whatever he wants?” Jeff’s hand was suddenly on her elbow. “Can you pretend as though some of this gets to you? Please, for our sanity.”

         “Whose sanity?” Roxy looked at him. To which, his cheeks suddenly went red. “Maybe… that is… maybe for the sanity of a director… looking for a date on Sunday night.”

         His hovering suddenly dropped into context. His extra bout of texting throughout the season... But he'd just been protecting his investment. Who wasn't at this studio? Roxy’s eyes widened on his hand touching her arm. Atop the forest of his green eyes was a thick brown hair, which he kept after religiously; shorter on the sides, longer in the back. With his jawline, he made her think of Richard Anderson, the true Macgyver. Soft with people, while razor-sharp in business. The all around feel Roxy might get from watching McCoughney in The Lincoln Lawyer. No… O’Donnell in Of Love and War… no, perhaps both. Ugh, she was type casting again.

         “What’s happening on Sunday?” Roxy leapt in before the silence dragged into awkward territory. Jeff cleared his throat. “Well- if you’re interested- Gary Cooper and Barbara Stanwyck are having a get together at the Cinemark; 5:30.”

         Roxy freed her elbow. “How’d you know that Ball of Fireis my favorite movie.”

         Jeff looked more confident now. “I’m a director, Roxy Colt. I study and learn the different angles-“

         “Don’t pull that.” Roxy stopped him with the palm of her hand. “Who told you?”

         “Do you want to go or not?”

         He’s under 35, he attends Midway Chapel of Christ, you’ve come back to his eyes in the last three minutes. Roxy’s consciousness jumped up and down in her chest. What’re you waiting on, Las Vegas LEDs?

         Roxy asked instead. “Why?”

         “Because," Jeff's face fought surprise and discomfort. "Well, everyone around just sits and watches the twisted morals of this town and they accept it. You don’t.”

         Roxy shook her head. “People been staring me over like my actions are some alien dance. I’m just being- the way God's asked me to be. Out of love for Him.”

         “But you don’t want to be recognized for it?” Jeff’s eyes went concerned. Roxy raised an eyebrow back. “It’s not about me.”

         “I think you tell yourself that so you don’t have to worry about yourself.” Jeff told her after a moment of study. Roxy laughed. “That’s brazen.”

         “You were right at that meeting in December.” Jeff said. “You’re a good camera director and you’ll be balancing directing and editing once we get into post-production…” he shook his head. “I figured, I better snatch you up before some techie or other network does.” 
          You really have no need to worry. Roxy thought to say. But she only nodded. “Sure, Jeff. Sunday.”

[CUT TO NEXT SCENE]

         “So I laugh at old movies.” Roxy felt a defensive pride as she mounted the stairs. “I hardly find that something to berate.”

         “Berate is a strong word.” Jeff matched her steps up wire stairs of her apartment complex. “People tend to give an amused laugh at black and whites. They don’t snort.”

         Roxy blushed. “People snort at 21^stcentury movies. And half the time it’s the same joke told in the dozen blockbusters before it.”

         “Ouch.” Jeff leaned casually beside her door. “You saying that the entertainment industry’s got a conspiracy against laughter?”

         “I’m saying,” Roxy paused on the other side of her cheaply painted frame. “Maybe we could be more considerate of what we’re asking people to laugh at.”

         “So the laughter doesn't mean anything if it's not a good joke?” Jeff rearranged his fingers so that he was focusing on her through a camera. More blushing!

         “You’re more inquisitive then you get credit for." Roxy admitted. "And not half bad a chuckler.”

         Jeff dropped his hands. “Good enough to take you out again?”

         Roxy considered that.

         “Maybe something outdoors.” Jeff plowed ahead; he wasn’t one for silence, Roxy was learning. “You haven’t lived in California until you’ve ridden a steed through the surf.”

          He’s outdoorsy too! Roxy’s heart fluttered. It had done so nervously a few times tonight. “When’s the best time for horseback riding?”

         That turned out to be the right question and Jeff left all smiles. In her apartment, Roxy released her feet from their fabulous boots and was headed to her bathtub when her phone rang. She had purposefully left it on her kitchen counter, eagerly wanting a night uninterrupted. It surprised her to see four missed calls… all from Glennette. The baby! Roxy hit redial. “What’s the matter?”

         “Nothing.” Came Blake’s voice. Wait, Blake? "It was just Glenn. She was over-reacting."

         “Over-reacting to what?” Roxy made for her bedroom, her much needed pajamas, and her bubble bath. “Where are you?”

         There was a nervous pause. “In the parking lot.”

         “Parking lot.” Roxy repeated. “What parking lot… my parking lot!?”

         “Yes.”

         Roxy eyed her balcony, though it faced the opposite direction. “Why? Who drove you here?”

         Another pause, which were heightening Roxy’s anxiety.

         “I did.”

         Roxy straightened from grabbing her pajamas. “You did what, Blake?”

         “Drove.”

         So much for the bath. Roxy pinched her nose in disbelief. “Get in here.”

         She hung up on that order and wheeled back to her door. She reached it as Blake and Glennette walked in. Roxy's glare burned as they stood awkwardly in her front room. She shut the door and put her hands on her hips for the full effect as she marched in front of them. “So, just so I’ve got the whole picture.” She spun on her heel, making Blake cringe back. “No license. No experience driving, likely in a car not registered to you, in Los Angeles… with your baby momma in the backseat!”

         Glennette watched the shirt stretched over her belly. Blake watched Roxy, as though afraid to look anywhere else. She narrowed her eyes for the kill. “Do ANY of these statements sound like the actions of two mature teenagers?”

         Glennette cleared her throat. “It was important-“

         “More important then risking jail time?” Roxy stopped her. “How would your baby feel, popping out in a six by nine cement cell?”

         Glennette’s face blanched; then her eyes narrowed back at Roxy. “I said it was important.”

         “So I just drop everything you did wrong and accept it?” Roxy shook her head. “I’m not your adoring public, Glenn. Yours either.” She shot daggers at Blake. “I see you for the impulsive, selfish child actors that you are and will reprimand you when you act even stupider then that!”

         Both chins dropped to their chests now. Roxy gave herself three breaths- a prayer in between each- before she spoke again. “Do your parents know that you’re here?”

         “Mine.” Glennette said, relaxing her shoulders. “Just not how.”

         “Same.” Blake admitted sheepishly. 

         Ok, she’d deal with that headache later. Roxy rubbed her forehead. One night, Lord. I wanted one night apart from this auntie-big-sister role I’ve stumbled into.
         To whom much is given, much will be demanded. She could just see Him shrugging. Go figure. 

         “Whose car?” Roxy pushed the interrogation farther. Blake took that one. “I picked Glenn up in Dad’s Bentley.” 

         Roxy folded her hands, white knuckle over white knuckle. “And what was sooo important that you had to steal it?”

         Blake shared a look with Glennette. Roxy waited. 

         “Jeff asked you out.” Glennette spoke in a rare shy tone.

         “Yeah?” Roxy was still waiting for the punch line. Glennette shrugged her shoulders. “We were wondering…”

         “You were wondering,” Blake corrected.

         “You didn’t have to agree to pick me up and ask her about it.” Glennette turned on him. 

         “What was I supposed to do? You were near hysteria and that’s not good for the baby.”

         Glennette grabbed her hair with both hands. “If I have to hear one more thing that’s not good for the baby-“

         “Yo, brats!” Roxy clapped her hands, getting them to shut up. Glennette huffed. “Are you gonna marry Jeff or something?”

         Roxy gapped at the two teens. "WHY would I know something like that? We went on a date; something that rarely happens twice.”

         “But it could.” Blake mentioned. “I mean, there’s a chance.”

         “And there’s also a chance I might skydive.”  Roxy spat. “What of it?”

         Glennette looked square at Roxy now. “Because we want you to adopt our baby.”

[CUT TO NEXT SCENE]

The Cutting Floor ~ Scene Four

         “He’s gonna sue your dad.” Blake told Roxy disheartedly.

         “Let him.” Roxy shrugged, settling her phone on the counter. Her text to Jeff faded from the screen, along with her hate at disrupting his Christmas. Kevin, however, had been the first to text Jeff, who in turn had texted Do we need to contact our lawyers about this? 

        Roxy had promptly sent him back. It's fine.

        “Your dad needed to meet someone that doesn’t bend to his will.” Glennette said through a smug smile.

         “He’ll come back with a lawsuit.” Blake warned, upset about having to go back with Kevin when he came back in a few hours. Dad would have him back from the emergency room by then, Kevin’s nose bandaged to look like new. 

         I shouldn’t be smiling about it so much. Roxy scolded herself, phone ringing in Jeff's reply. That shouldn't qualify as an answer. That guy's deplorable. 

          Roxy agreed, wished him a Merry Christmas, and returned to grabbing ingredients out of the pantry. She had banned her, Mom, and the Davis’ out onto the porch while she and the kids whipped up a lunch from yesterday’s feast. They all needed something to do with their hands.

         “What was Mr. Fournier talking about, Roxy?” Glennette asked, her voice ringing louder with the question. Roxy looked up from the slices of turkey she’d been assembling on rye bread buns. Normally, Sander would be trying to snag a slice of tomato or Swiss, but he was with friends. Even he couldn’t protect her now.

         Roxy eyed the two teens that had thrust themselves into the mess of maturity before they were ready for it. Yet, wasn’t Nana always saying that kids didn’t get enough credit for the things they could comprehend?

         You followed Me into this beautiful mess. God reminded her. For reasons you won’t admit to yourself. I’d like you to do that now, Daughter.

         You’re sooo pushy. Roxy put in a whine as Glennette tried again, placing tomato on the sandwiches. “We looked up Taking Point. It was on from 1998-2001; about four firefighter friends in Florida.”

         Roxy laughed at the food in front of her. “Doesn’t that just roll off the tongue. It was filmed in Tampa, some on San Marco Island… they kept that the same, anyway.”

         Blake and Glennette’s eyes were big now, big as saucers. Blake’s mouth hung open in a black hole. “You were an actress, Roxy?”

         Glennette hit his shoulder. “Why’s that so hard to believe?”

         “It’s not,” Blake blushed, rubbing his shoulder. “Just… Dad’s always said that crews are the people who wish they could act.”

         Roxy rolled her eyes, stacking the first sandwich on Mom’s cornucopia platter. “We’re more like the people who help you act.”

         Blake’s cheeks reddened deeper. “Right, so… Taking Point?”

         And here she thought she could distract them from it. Roxy twisted the bread bag closed. “I graduated in broadcast engineering from Sarasota, but during that…” was she really admitting to this? Roxy breathed out, long-forgotten prayers passing her lips. “I auditioned for a few commercials, some extra shots. I was earning money for my tuition and gaining experience in my desired field. I wasn't interested in anything else. Some extra bucks and some free fun.”

         “And!?” Glennette was half over the countertop, hands clamped on the edge.

         “And…” Roxy dragged the word out. “My audition tape fell into the hands of the right producer. He pulled me in for a few chemistry readings with the male leads-“

         “Who!” Glennette demanded, thumbs poised and ready to attack the keys of her phone. Roxy gave a sideways grin and shook her head. 

         “C’mon!” both teens protested. Roxy just waited until they piped down, returning to the sandwiches. “Bottom line, I got the role. And I was stoked! I was barely nineteen, but ready to sign whatever they put in front of me. And I was planning to surprise my parents with the news after I signed it.”

         Jeff lit up her phone again. What's your secret to being so casual about everything? 

         God. Roxy typed back, simply and surely. Funny, how she was just now seeing that.

         “What happened?” Glennette begged for more, almost breathless. "Did you sign? But they fired you... WHY did they fire you?"

         “The male leads asked me to sleep with them.” Roxy said; it took far less effort to admit then she had thought. 

         Blake swiped his gaze for any other adults in the kitchen. There weren't, but it didn't dissipate the awkwardness that came with this information. Glennette's face twisted in disgust.

         “Two other girls had been considered for the part before me,” Roxy told him. “And the same ‘initiation’ had fallen on them. If I said no, or they didn't like me, they’d convince the producers to find someone else for the role.”

         Glennette was holding her head, like it might erupt. “Roxy… what’d you do?”

         She’s so sure of my answer. Roxy noticed, a little hurt by it. The phone interrupted her yet again; and it was Jeff, again. What am I supposed to do with that? 

         Your decision, not mine. Roxy told him; he was actually a good buffer for this conversation she had always feared having. But I'd be happy to discuss it any time. 

         "ROXY!" Glennette and Blake demanded.

         “I told them no." Roxy said, ignoring the phone now for good. "And I tried to tell the producers about it, but they had already been told that I was the one sleeping around, making everyone uncomfortable on set.”

         The kids’ eyes were plates now. Roxy was sort of enjoying her captive audience. It was the first time she’d revealed this story to anyone, outside of the family. “My parents got me a lawyer. One that found the truth, got the actors fired, and the show scrapped. For that year anyway.”

         “And you?” Blake pointed at her. Roxy looked back down at her sandwich. 

         “I received a small settlement and went back to learning about cameras.” Roxy looked down at her sandwich, suddenly thinking that it needed chips to go with it. Chips and dip; did they have any?

         “Why?” Glennette spoke first as Roxy reached the pantry. “Roxy, why’d you say no?”

         Honestly, that's where her mind goes? Roxy eyed the shelves of her mother’s food. “It wasn’t right.”

         “It’s not illegal.” Blake said. “You were an adult.” 

         Roxy turned to eyeball him. Both of them. “Being an adult isn’t the go ahead for sex, Blake. It means bills, setting your own alarm, making good on promises you make to other people, and showing responsibility over the money you earn.” She yanked the chip bag out of the pantry. “Sometimes by working for wretched strangers who can’t see past the cells of the next spreadsheet.”

         Blake’s neck had shrunk into his shoulders. Glennette watched the counter instead of her phone and both their faces were set deep in guilt. Roxy reeled her rant in as she brought the chips back to the plate. “But being an adult isn’t the only reason I said no. As a Christian, God’s taught me to have a certain respect for my body. What He calls a temple.”

         She might as well have said ‘cockatoo’. Blake took her explanation more thoughtfully, but with as much disbelief as Glennette. Roxy focused on the chips, a mango salsa flavor, so she could forego the dip.

         “Ok, but,” Blake now took his thinking aloud. “What’s God got to do with you making your own choices?”

         Is it wrong that I still ask the same question?Roxy wondered, dusting her fingers off from the chips. “When He’s the one who created you, everything.”

         “What, like you owe Him?” 

         “No.” Roxy rolled the bag back up, making the eye contact she was so afraid of. “More like I’ve been listening to what He hopes for me. And it turns out that it's good, it's healthy. Maybe not always easy, but still what's... right.”

         Blake shared a look with Glennette, who said. “You believe that?”

         “Yes.” Roxy looked up at her, unblinking. She made a point not to blink, not when she admitted her faith. Christianity was hardly dead in Los Angeles; merely sparse. Like loose change in a couch.

         “Is that why… you care so much?” Glennette finally asked the big one. Roxy gave a nod, folding up the chip bag. “It’s why I wanna be sure things aren’t misrepresented. For either of you.” 

         “By telling the truth?” Blake groaned, like the weight of reality had just returned to his mind. 

         “It’s what’s right.” Roxy repeated. 
         Glennette searched her eyes, hands back around the lifeline that was her phone. “Let’s hope so.”
          I know so. Roxy determined under her breath; with a glance at the kitchen ceiling. I know so... right?
          If you still have to ask Me, then you're not going to get the answer. Was God's only remark. Roxy could just see Him chuckling as He did.

[CUT TO NEXT SCENE]

The Cutting Floor ~ Scene Three

           “I never intended it like this.” Roxy rolled her neck back into the cushion of the living room couch. She had loved being nestled in this red-n-white plaid couch since she was a teenager, and it begged her to sleep. Sleep and wake up to the reality that she was still just a camera director, moving on with her existence, not anywhere where she didn’t belong.

           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.”

         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?!”

         Dad’s fist finally shut him up.

[CUT TO NEXT SCENE]