by Adele Buck
“You’re saying you don’t need me?” James’ voice had a brittle quality to it. Freddie guessed he was trying for humorous self-deprecation. He was missing it by yards. She sighed. She could either soothe his ego or she could take care of herself. She couldn’t do both just now. Her eyes prickled with frustrated tears.
“James, not for nothing, but if I needed you that much, what would I have been doing for the last two years?”
James’ head ducked, acknowledging her point. His fingers were tightly laced, resting on the formica surface of the table.
Her jaw worked as she thought. “So now that I’ve cultivated that skill, I have no problem using it. In fact, I want to use it. Having someone step in for me is a luxury I can’t afford right now.”
“Why not?” A crease dug between James’ brows.
“Because under normal circumstances, I have to take care of myself. Even if you’re here for the long run, you won’t always be on the spot. More urgently, going to work on a production with Susan in it means I have to be at the top of my game. I have to be able to be professional, calm, stand up to her, and cope with whatever unpredictable bullshit she’s going to throw my way. Even if you were going to be there in rehearsals—and you aren’t—I can’t afford to think that I’m going to get white-knighted on this. I can’t be a damsel. I have to save myself.”
The muscles in James’ temples bulged with the clenching of his jaw and Freddie wondered how many more arguments she was going to have to muster. This was beyond frustrating. It was her life, her turf to defend. How was that hard to understand?
She sighed. “Even if you were there every day, can’t you see how much relying on someone else to fight my battles would undermine my authority? I’m not Cath’s assistant anymore.” Freddie picked up her coffee cup, stared into the liquid as if she could see her future there.
James nodded once, reaching for the menus in their stand at the end of the table. “Fine. Let’s have some pancakes, then.”
Freddie blinked at the sudden concession. She was pretty sure this wasn’t the end of the argument, but she didn’t have the energy to continue it just now. She looked down at the menu in her hands and gave him a covert glance as he looked over his own choices. Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t be aware of the effort he was taking to seem fine, unworried.
But Freddie did know him.
James was anything but cool and collected just now.
James dropped Freddie off at her apartment after breakfast with a cheek kiss and a promise to text her later. Their discussion at the diner had ranged into more neutral topics, staying away from subjects like his attempt to play the white knight and her taking a job he disapproved of.
The whole morning still left James with a restless, dissatisfied energy. He set off down the street, making his face purposefully neutral while his thoughts roiled below the surface. Keeping his hands swinging loose by his sides, he tried to transform his discomfort into pure motion.
As he walked, his tightly bunched muscles started to warm and loosen. Passing bodegas and apartment buildings, he started mentally circling around what had happened this morning with a calmer outlook.
Why had he gotten so upset?
Yeah, it sucked to have his well-meaning gesture handed back to him with a, “Not necessary, pal.” But was Freddie wrong?
No.
So why did he feel so rotten?
Freddie had changed. That was certain. And it was normal. She was, after all, seven years younger than he was. Rather than being irritated that she had developed the skills to take care of herself, shouldn’t he feel proud? Shouldn’t he support her?
Sure.
So what was so wrong?
James walked another block, checking the crosstown street sign for his bearings, realizing he had no idea how long he had been moving nearly blindly down Manhattan sidewalks, crossing streets at random based on what walk signal gave him the go ahead. He was only a few blocks from his hotel. There was nothing there to draw him, so he took advantage of a walk signal to veer north toward Central Park. Entering the green space, his tension eased a bit more and he reconsidered the question from a different angle.
Was this really about how much Freddie had changed?
Or was it about how little he had?
Freddie let herself into her apartment, chewing on her bottom lip and thinking hard. Whatever was wrong with James just now, she wasn’t sure she had the capacity to deal with it. She had to focus, to get her game face on and be ready for the challenge of her new job.
The new job that started tomorrow.
First things first. Digging her phone out of her pocket, she tapped Cath’s contact information, wandering over to the sofa while she waited for her erstwhile mentor to pick up. Miranda didn’t seem to have moved since Freddie and James left, and she opened one eye in a sleepy slit to peer up when Freddie sank down next to her.
“Freddie. What’s up?” Cath’s voice sounded strong and positive.
“I took the job. Thanks for the heads-up.”
“That’s great news. When do you start?” Freddie could hear the clanking of a pan and the pop-pop-pop-hiss of a gas burner lighting in the background.
“Tomorrow. What are you cooking?”
“Just sautéing up some veggies to mix into turkey burgers for this evening.”
Even though she had just had breakfast, Freddie’s mouth began to water at the thought.
“You want to come over later? There’s going to be plenty.”
Pushing aside the vague, irrational guilt that her gluttonous thought might have somehow caused Cath to issue her invitation, Freddie accepted. “Thanks. It would be great to catch up with you and Paul. It’s been a long time.”
“It has.” Some additional meaning seemed to lurk in Cath’s tone. Freddie thought she could hear a sly smile in the older woman’s voice.
“Is everything okay?”
Another clank from Cath’s end of the call. “Everything’s great, Freddie. Come on by at six-thirty and we can get caught up.”
Chapter 6
Arriving at the tiny foyer of Cath and Paul’s apartment that evening, Freddie handed a bottle of wine to Paul and exchanged hugs. Over the years, her relationship with Paul and Cath had slowly changed from slightly nervous respect of a subordinate for her bosses, to the comfortable warmth of friendship. Cath had taken a chance on Freddie when she was fresh out of college, giving her increasing responsibility in their productions until Freddie was ready to take on her own shows, and Freddie would always be grateful to her for that.
Paul gestured with the wine bottle toward the living room. “Thanks for this, Freddie. Cath’s in the kitchen. She’s been looking forward to seeing you.”
Freddie examined Paul’s face intently. His expression was…odd. Proud in a funny sort of way. “Yeah, she sounded like she might have news. Are you guys working on a new production?”
“Something like that. Go on in.” Paul’s odd expression got even odder. Freddie wasn’t sure she had ever seen him like this. He was usually filled with restless, kinetic energy. But this was different. He seemed almost nervous.
“All righty then.” Moving into the living room, Freddie saw Cath, swathed in a long apron, washing her hands at the sink in the little galley kitchen.
“Freddie.” Drying her hands and dashing her long brown hair off her forehead, Cath wrapped long, slim arms around Freddie’s neck and pulled her into a hug. Hugging her back, Freddie blinked as Cath’s normally flat belly poked into her. Her mind blanked for a moment. When logical thought resumed, her eyes went wide.
“Oh my god. Are you…?” Freddie tried to bite the words back, folding her lips into her mouth. If Cath wasn’t pregnant, she had almost committed a huge gaffe.
Cath leaned back, laughter in her eyes as she looked down at Freddie, cradling her bump. “Yes. Due in the spring.”
“That’s the co-production we’re currently collaborating on,” Paul said as he worked a corkscrew
into the bottle. “Sorry, dearest. You don’t get any of this.”
“I think your part of the collaboration is pretty much done, except for holding my hand and telling me to push in a few months,” Cath said, her voice dry.
“Not at all. I’m drinking the wine you can’t as well.” Paul poured out two wine glasses and filled a water glass for Cath. Handing the drinks around, he lifted his glass and opened his mouth to speak.
“I think it’s for me to make the toast,” Freddie interjected. “To two of the best people I know, who are bound to be two of the best parents I know. Congratulations, guys.”
Paul glanced at his wife, the corners of his blue eyes creasing in a smile as he drank. “Well, Cath’s the calm, organized one. She’s definitely going to be a great mom. Me? I’m a wreck.”
“You’ll be fine, dear. I’ve done the prep on dinner. Your turn.” Pulling the chef’s apron over her head, she draped it over Paul’s neck, giving him a peck on the lips. Without it, Freddie could see Cath’s belly was definitely rounded, pushing slightly against the stretchy green knit of her top. An irrepressible grin spread across Freddie’s face. She had never even considered that Cath and Paul would have children, but she found the idea thrilled her.
It was almost like becoming an aunt.
“So,” Freddie said as she and Cath settled onto the sofa, “how are you feeling?”
Cath made a face and rubbed her palm over her belly. “It was pretty gross for the first trimester, but I seem to have turned a corner.”
“Ugh. Glad to know it’s gotten better.” Freddie took a sip of her wine, and then put it down on the coffee table with a guilty grimace.
Cath observed her with a wry twinkle. “You can drink your wine. It doesn’t bother me.” Pausing, she added, “But eat sushi in front of me and you may die a slow and painful death. That I miss like crazy.” Cath tilted her head as she regarded Freddie. “Is something wrong? I mean, something other than you probably having to seriously psych yourself up for this new gig?”
“Well, that is part of it. It’s a bit unreal that everything’s starting tomorrow and I’m going to have to come in cold on a rehearsal process that’s already well underway. I have so much catching up to do. It’s overwhelming.”
“And on top of that challenge you’ll have to ride with whatever Susan chucks at you.”
Freddie sighed and covered her eyes with one hand. “Yeah. That too. This is a nightmare.”
“You can do it,” Cath said, leaning forward to touch Freddie’s arm and smiling.
“Yes you can.” Paul’s voice came from the kitchen. “But it’s not going to be easy.”
Cath rolled her eyes. “Thank you, darling. That’s very supportive of you.”
Paul poked his head out of the kitchen and leveled a spatula at his wife. “No legacy is as rich as honesty.” He quoted solemnly.
“Mariana was talking about her virginity, nitwit.”
“I thought the game was you guys always named the play the other was quoting,” Freddie said, confused at this shift in her friends’ behavior.
“We decided to give Shakespeare a pass,” Paul said, glancing over his shoulder and disappearing back into the kitchen.
“Paul decided to give Shakespeare a pass when I stumped him with The Phoenix and the Turtle,” Cath said, raising her voice so it carried over the sound of the turkey burgers frying.
“That’s poetry, not a play,” Paul said, his voice pained.
Cath’s grin in response was positively feral. “The Sonnets were always fair game and they’re not plays.”
“So you guys can change the rules, huh?” Freddie said, rubbing her lips with her fingertips, considering.
“Sure we can. Why not? It’s our game. They’re our rules. As long as we both agree, what’s to stop us?” Cath picked up her water and sipped.
Freddie took a big gulp of her wine and set the glass on the table, facing Cath. “James Martin is back in New York.”
James thanked the waitress and pushed his script out of the way as she set a plate down in front of him. Glancing around the restaurant, he noticed a couple of curious faces regarding him. Either they recognized him or thought he was pathetic for dining alone. He shouldn’t have chosen to eat at the restaurant in his hotel. Too many tourists. At a restaurant that was frequented by mostly New Yorkers, his choice to eat alone would have been unremarked upon.
Ignoring the looks, he turned a page and forced himself to take a few bites of his meal. It wasn’t the best script he’d ever read, but it was the most important television script in his career to date. The part was bigger than anything he had ever done and he was determined to get the character right from the first scene. All too often actors on television shows didn’t have their characters’ personalities and motivations locked down until well into the first season.
Which was, in his opinion, one of the reasons for so many first-season cancellations. No viewer could empathize with a character that was only half realized by the actor. You needed to make a decision. Shit or get off the pot. At least, that was the way he’d always thought when he was watching a new show, frustrated and feeling like he could do a better job.
It was a little more nerve-wracking to actually have to make those decisions, knowing he was going to have to live with them—possibly for years if the show was a success.
Add to that the fact that he was a replacement for the original actor in the pilot and he really had to have this nailed right out of the gate. Pulling a notebook out from under the script, he started to jot down what he knew about the character from the script. Journalist. He put the pen down and took another bite of his dinner, thinking further. Picking up the pen again, he added Professional, Smart, Driven, and Sense of humor to his list. He paged through the script, shoving another bite of dinner into his mouth and chewing deliberately as his eyes scanned the page.
Was his job all there was to this guy?
Closing the script to focus on his dinner before it went cold, James continued to think. He had a pretty limited amount of stuff to do and an equally limited amount of screen time to do it in. This was going to make creating a well-rounded character that people responded to more difficult. As written, the guy didn’t even seem to respond to the lead character, a perky, attractive young woman who just happened to have a secret identity as a superhero.
If his role hadn’t been written for a man, it would have been one of those 80s “career woman” clichés. As it was, it merely presented him with yet another challenge to overcome.
No problem. Just take a cardboard caricature and turn him into a fully realized, living, breathing human being who people want to tune in to watch, week after week.
No sweat.
Freddie nearly squirmed as she watched Cath’s face. The other woman’s brain was like a computer, ticking over the conversation and making connections. She had always been like that. It made her great to work with—she could see complications and problems coming and headed them off before they got too bad, or sometimes before they even happened.
But it also made her uncomfortable to be around sometimes.
“So you and James are a thing again?”
Freddie rocked her hand from side to side in a “sort of” gesture.
“When did he get back from L.A.?”
Freddie swallowed a mouthful of wine. “Yesterday.”
One of Cath’s eyebrows arched. “You guys move fast. What happened to that librarian from NYU?”
“She and I didn’t work out. Our schedules…” Again, Freddie resisted the urge to squirm under her former mentor’s stare. Instead, she diverted her attention back to her wine glass and took another sip.
“Too bad. She sounded nice. Also nice to have a relationship outside this crazy business.”
“Hey.” Paul’s voice called out from the kitchen. “I resemble that remark.”
“Garfield,” Cath retorted, turning her head and raising her voice to be heard over the frying burgers.
“Cartoon cats aren’t part of the game, dear heart.”
“I was feeling competitive. If I can’t drink, I can at least use my brain.”
“Terrifying. Months of this.” Paul’s voice couldn’t conceal the pride and affection he felt for his wife.
“Anyway.” Cath returned her attention to Freddie. “How is James?”
“Good.” So, so very good. Freddie’s face heated at the thought.
Cath’s green eyes roamed over Freddie’s face, but she didn’t comment on the blush that must be visible from space. “So is he back for the long haul? Or just a guest spot or something?”
“Long haul. He’s got a gig on that new superhero tv show. It shoots here.”
“It’ll be nice to have him around again. He’s good people.”
“Yeah, well. It’s not like James and I are…”
“James and you are what?”
“Well, it’s not like whatever we’ve got going on is a real relationship.”
Cath gave Freddie a long-suffering look. “He got back from L.A. yesterday. You’re already making decisions about your future relationship or lack thereof? You guys were serious enough two years ago that he asked you to move to the other side of the country with him.”
Freddie shrugged one shoulder up, resisting the urge to hunch down into herself the way she had done when she was just Cath’s assistant. Cath had broken her of that habit, insisting she carry herself straight and with authority, even if she didn’t feel that way. Maybe especially if she didn’t feel that way. “Fake it ’til you make it, girl,” Cath had said to her. The advice had helped. Freddie’s stature and the fact that she looked younger than she was meant she needed to have even more confidence than someone like Cath, who towered over her.
“I don’t know. James and I… I’ve changed a lot over two years.”
“And that makes you less compatible?”
“Maybe. He seems to think I’m still the kid I was when we were back in Churchill.”