“I would imagine being conscious helps,” Damian laughs. “All it takes to see whether or not you really like a person is to spend some time with them. Either you’ll find yourself making excuses for their behavior or you’ll find yourself actually enjoying it. It’s really not that hard.”
“If it’s so easy,” I tell him, “wouldn’t that mean that I should have developed a solid idea about whether or not I like you by now, too? We’ve spent some time together alone.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Damian responds. “Dinner, maybe, I guess, but I really doubt you were sitting there with that question on your mind.”
“Jones!” someone behind me calls out, and I turn around.
Trey, one of the set’s security guys, is waving Damian over to him.
“Well, uh,” Damian says, “I’ve got to go—I’ll talk to you later.”
“All right,” I tell him. “Thanks for the advice, I guess.”
He didn’t really help me figure anything out, but he did seem to put some effort into trying.
“How much longer do you have to decide?” he asks.
“A little less than two days,” I tell him.
“Okay,” Damian says. “Let’s talk about this more before you make any definite choices here. Until then, see if you can work out a way to see if he has those pictures for yourself. There’s no sense dragging this whole thing on if he doesn’t actually have the goods.”
“Thanks,” I tell him again. “I really do appreciate it.”
“Roxy!” Dutch calls out from across the room, and I walk over to talk to him as Damian makes his way up to the security guy.
“Hey, Dutch,” I say as I come close enough to the director, “are we ready for my next scene yet?”
“Not quite,” Dutch says. “You do know that we’re going to be shooting your big scene with Damian next week, right?”
“My big scene?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Dutch answers, “the intimate scene between your two characters.”
“Okay, yeah, what about it?” I ask.
“I’ve never worked with you before,” he says, “so I don’t really know everything you can do. One of the things that’ll kill a movie like this faster than an outbreak of salmonella in the popcorn butter is a romantic pair that doesn’t look good showing their affection with one another.”
“What are you suggesting?” I ask.
“Jones has been in this business a while, and I’ve even had the chance to work with him a couple of times. He knows what I like to see from a pair,” Dutch says. “The two of you should set up time to go over your mannerisms that way.”
“All right,” I answer dismissively.
“I’m serious,” he says. “I can’t have a romantic comedy where the guy and the girl look like they’re kissing their relatives.”
“Look, I know that I’m not all that experienced in major films,” I say, “but wouldn’t it work just as well if I talk to an acting coach?”
“Look,” he says, “I don’t care about your performances after this movie. What I care about is that the two of you look good kissing and all that other stuff.”
“So what do you suggest that Damian and I do to make sure we’re on the same page?” I ask.
Dutch smirks and chuckles, saying, “I’m sure the two of you can figure something out. Whatever you do, just do it before next week. I really can’t afford to hold up shooting because the two of you don’t know how to look like you’re actually comfortable kissing each other.”
With that, Dutch spots someone else that he needs to talk to more pressingly than me and he runs off after him.
All around, people are going.
Everywhere around me, people are walking with purpose, performing their tasks, moving on to the next one: all of them have something to do.