Behind the Scenes

by Christina C Jones

  What that meant though, was we’d be premiering that first episode – and probably the next two if we wanted to keep up with the schedule – before we’d be done filming.

  It was something other well-known shows did all the time.

  It wasn’t anything new, not particularly innovative, but it was a daunting prospect.

  Because for every episode that premiered and was already out, anything included there became canon. There were no reshoots, no editing to take a certain scene out.

  It was final… before everything else was final.

  And we’d said yes to it.

  So, Nick and Pierre were poring over the script, making sure that everything was completely tight. I didn’t say anything to either of them about the fact that they’d already done that several times because I knew it wasn’t helpful. They had to make sure for themselves and with my own wannabe perfectionist nature, far be it from me to get in the way of that.

  It was just going to have to work itself out.

  As I headed in Miko’s direction, I passed a couple of assistants who were standing by waiting on filming to start. I spoke, and they spoke back, but as they returned to their conversation, I heard, “I can’t believe Pierre’s fine ass isn’t on set today. I didn’t know they meant even he wasn’t going to be here when they were asking people to sign up for the “limited” set.”

  It took everything in me not to turn back and get another good look at the face of the one who said that. I’d been teasing Pierre way too much about his unfounded jealousy to fall into the same thing.

  Especially when this was harmless. He was fine, so of course there were people on set who saw it and wanted to be in his presence because of it.

  At the same time though… he was mine, and there didn’t need to be any other bitches looking for him.

  Mine, but I corrected El when she called him my boyfriend.

  What kind of sense did that make?

  In any case, it wasn’t the time for me to be thinking about that. Once I tracked down Miko, she went straight into reviewing directorial notes, and even put a headset on me and one of the director’s tablets in my hands.

  “Uhhh, I know you said you wanted me here to back you up but damn,” I laughed, as she pointed out the chair next to her for me to sit down.

  She grinned. “Not just backup, honey. You’re official today.”

  She… wasn’t just talking either.

  She really meant it.

  When things just didn’t seem to be flowing right in terms of getting Tracy and Jason from the front door to her bedroom without it looking stiff, Miko turned to me asking for my advice.

  The way it was all scripted was fine, but there had been changes to the set for the purposes of getting the shot that hadn’t been accounted for. So, in trying to make it flow as scripted, we were ending up with clunky looking shots.

  So we changed it.

  Right there, on the fly, Miko and I worked together to make some shifts that kept everything that was written, but moved it at all around a bit so that it flowed. Once we figured that part out, the scene went marvelously, and honestly... It was pretty freaking hot.

  Shaw and Elodie had real, blazing chemistry that I’d seen before, even when they auditioned together, but now that I knew what I did about them, it seemed to shine even brighter.

  And it was all going to look even better post editing, with the color grading and the music and just… yes.

  I’d been excited just to even be on the fringes of making this happen, but stepping right into the middle of it in this way was an unexpected pleasure.

  Once the scene was fully wrapped, and the characters were off to make costume changes as more people arrived to start their shifts on set, Miko got my attention to pull me into an embrace. “You did so good, honey,” she complimented. “I can’t wait to tell Pierre he was right.”

  My eyebrows went up. “Huh?”

  “Well, I was talking about bringing in another director to help me with this episode. Pierre didn’t want to be out here watching his sister fake getting it on for take after take, and I think Nick sees her in a similar manner. They got lucky that there was something else to do, so neither of them had to say that, especially since this was already my episode to direct. Anyway, Pierre insisted that since you’ve been such an engaged part of this, that you could handle it. He didn’t think we needed to bring anybody else on. And look at you, proving him right!”

  With that said, she walked off, leaving me to really think about that.

  Yes, I was good at my job, that went without question, but the fact that he’d trusted me with something like this?

  Well… that was something else entirely.

  “So you’re really enjoying yourself with this?” my mother asked, peeking at me from the next mud bath over.

  It was another Sunday, another day off, and when my mother had reached out, asking if I wanted to accompany her to the spa… well, I didn’t have to think about that very hard.

  Hell yes I did.

  “I really, really am,” I told her, truthfully. As stressful as it was becoming the closer we got to being done, it was still pretty gratifying to see a project of this scope through from start to finish.

  “Well good,” my mother said, closing her eyes. “I’m glad to see you flourishing, even if it’s not what we wanted you to do.”

  My eyes nearly popped out of my skull at that. True, we’d been in a decent place since that conversation with my father, but it had been my impression that they were mostly just humoring me.

  They understood where I was coming from, but didn’t necessarily agree, which was the most I was asking for anyway.

  No aiding, no abetting, just acceptance.

  This was different though.

  “Well, that’s quite a shift,” I couldn’t help commenting, and my mother laughed a bit as her eyes reopened.

  “Well once your father and I forced ourselves to take our own egos out of the equation, it was actually quite simple. Especially seeing how happy you are now,” she added. “I know you’ve accused us of not being aware enough of your mental state, and maybe that’s true. What I thought back then was just… drive and ambition, I see now was more along the lines of resignation and grit. To get you through something you weren’t enjoying. It’s clearer now because I see the difference in you. You seem so much lighter.”

  “I feel so much lighter,” I agreed. “I’m glad you see it too.”

  She nodded, then got this far away look on her face for a moment before her attention came back to me. “We really did think through what you said. Through everything you said. And at first… we really didn’t want to believe you. I didn’t want to believe you.”

  “That I wasn’t happy working at the firm?”

  “No,” my mother shook her head. “Not that. I didn’t want to believe that the same things I’d had to endure as a young lawyer, the same things I’d fought against and thought were eradicated… were still happening right under our noses.”

  Oh.

  The good ol’ boy culture.

  It was unfortunately still rampant, even when the ones who were more commonly thought of as the “good ol’ boys” weren’t actually present.

  There was always some asshole willing to step into that place.

  I’d been lucky enough to have the Byers surname, so as dehumanizing and frustrating as my own harassment from clients had been, I still felt somewhat empowered to shut it down. I wasn’t with that shit, and all it took was a smacked hand or face, and/or a threat to mention it to one of my parents or the other partners to make it stop.

  Not everybody had a soft place to land in the face of something like that, though.

  It had been a deep source of guilt for me, in fact.

  I hadn’t been up front with my parents about it when it was happening because I hadn’t wanted to be viewed as weak, or unable to handle myself. I wanted to prove that I could handle it on my own, which could never be the case if I
was running to my parents to fix my problems.

  Of course, now I could see how silly that was.

  And how harmful it was to people who may not have had the protection of their mother, father, uncles, aunts, cousins, all being alongside them at work. It was this unspoken thing, because that was how all abuse thrived – the victim was always scared to speak up, to tell the wrong person about it for fear of their situation becoming worse.

  I could’ve – should’ve – said something before it came spilling out as some sort of “gotcha” against my parents, which… I had to own.

  “That really bothered me,” my mother went on, pulling me from the depths of my own thoughts. “I kept trying to tell myself that maybe you were just angry and trying to make us feel bad, that you were exaggerating the problem. But I couldn’t sit with that. My brain just wouldn’t let me accept that easy answer. So… I investigated. Very quietly. I signed privacy agreements with so many young associates, paralegals, interns, legal secretaries, people from all over the firm, just in the time since you told us that. I made myself accountable to them, and their stories, and your father did the same, just from a different direction, and you know what we discovered?”

  The suspense was literally killing me – my chest was tight, breath lodged in my throat as I waited for her to answer.

  “The problem was bigger than we thought. Bigger than you probably even realized,” my mother admitted, wistfully shaking her head. “We have dropped a million dollars’ worth of clients over the behavior reported, like you said, but it wasn’t just clients who were the problem. We’ve excused a startling number of people from our employ, and the most disheartening thing about it? Our upcoming family picnic is likely going to be missing a few faces. And good riddance to them. Because how can we ever pride ourselves on this legacy if we’re protecting abusers?”

  “Wow,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I… wow.”

  “Precisely,” she agreed. “So there was quite the shakeup, over the last few weeks, for the better. And really… we have you to thank. Neither of us wanted to believe we’d created anything other than a demanding, productive, educational environment at the firm. It’s part of why it was so hard to accept it when you wanted to do something else – we couldn’t see how toxic it was, under the fabulous façade. We wanted to believe you were just rebelling, that we’d spoiled you, but… we see it now. And we’re grateful you told us, so we can fix it.”

  Wow.

  Again.

  This was certainly not the conversation I’d expected to have with my mother, but I was more than glad we did. Through the rest of our bath, she told me about the changes they were making, policies they were implementing, all of that, and honestly… it sounded amazing.

  I was proud of them.

  And really, it made me understand their position a little better, even though I was still hurt by how they’d pushed me away. Becoming an adult – or apparently, even a parent – didn’t make you magically equipped to handle certain emotions and disappointments, so… sometimes it ended up coming out wrong, expressed in the worst possible of ways.

  None of us were immune to it.

  After the mud baths, it was on to massages, then another shower, and then time for our pedicures. That area wasn’t as private as the others, since they saw more clients for that, so we had to shift conversation to something lighter.

  Like my father’s disappointment that it hadn’t worked out with Anthony.

  Especially now that they’d met.

  They were a match made in heaven for each other, but I was glad I’d already put a knife in that situation romantically, because it definitely would’ve been hell for me.

  “He’s a nice enough young man, and potentially a great attorney, but my goodness… I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so eager to agree with your father,” my mother giggled over her champagne.

  Beside her, I was enjoying a glass of my own, from the bottle we had to ourselves. This was why I liked hanging with my mother – she didn’t do anything half-assed. There was a driver waiting who’d be taking us to a private dinner after this, and I didn’t have to ask to already know the meal would be gourmet.

  A sudden frostiness in the air made me look up from all my giggling with my mother to see that two new patrons had entered the area.

  Les’ mother and my least favorite of his aunts.

  Even when he and I had been on the best of terms, I’d despised this lady and her crooked, faux jheri curl wig.

  His mother was fine.

  Usually.

  “Well. Logan. I haven’t seen you in quite a while,” she said. The other heifer pretended to be busy on her phone.

  I opened my mouth, fully prepared to be pleasant to her – I had no reason to be anything else, especially since before Les and I came together, our parents had been friends. Still were, as far as I knew, but considering the lack of dialog between her and my mother… that was in question.

  “I hope you’re pleased with yourself. My son has been in such a state since you… trampled on his plans for your shared future.”

  I smiled. “Mrs. Moore, I actually am very pleased with my life,” I told her. “I’m sorry to hear that Les is having a difficult time adjusting, but it’s only been a few months – I am positive he’ll be back to himself.”

  Honestly, it was surprising to me, hearing that he was having a hard time with the dissolution of our relationship, since we’d barely actually had a relationship by the time it was over. Still, I didn’t hold any ill will towards him, so my words were sincere.

  “I’m sure you are,” she huffed, moving on to where the very uncomfortable looking hostess was trying to usher them into seats.

  I looked over to my mother, who had picked up a magazine, and was flipping serenely through it while sipping her champagne.

  “Mama,” I hissed, and she looked up at me with a plastered-on smile.

  “Yes?”

  “You wanna tell me what’s going on between you and Gina? Y’all didn’t even acknowledge each other.”

  She huffed, turning back to her magazine. “There is not a damn thing going on between me and that woman or her sister, or that curly possum on her head.”

  “Daaaamn, mama!” I cackled, then quickly pulled myself back together. “You used to fuss at me for talking about the woman’s hair. What in the world happened?”

  “What happened is that, shortly after you told us about the termination of your relationship with Leslie, those two came to my home, demanding that your father and I get you in line. As if you were cattle to be corralled or something. And then, once I’d disabused them of that notion, it came out that since you’d decided not to be a lawyer anymore anyway, they didn’t think you were good enough for him. I put those bitches out of my home so fast I think she actually had that wig on straight for a moment.”

  “If you don’t get outta here!” I laughed, not bothering to temper it this time, not immediately. I didn’t want us to get kicked out though, so I quieted down and let my mother change the subject to something in her magazine, since she obviously didn’t want to talk about those two.

  Unfortunately, that only lasted so long.

  My mother and I were almost done with our services when yet another Moore walked in.

  This time, it was Les.

  Now that I wasn’t so deeply immersed in my annoyance with him, I could admit – just in my head – that his big-eared ass did look good. Not that it meant anything to me anymore, just an observation.

  I could see how that face and body convinced me to hang around longer than I should’ve.

  “Logan… you’re looking good,” he said, with a slick smile that I returned.

  “So are you.”

  Across the room, his mother cleared her throat, getting his attention. “What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

  He frowned. “I… thought something happened with you. Aunt Rita texted and said something was wrong with the card processing, and you need
ed cash to pay. I came through because I was already in the area. They were just letting me stick my head in to say hello, since they didn’t know anything about the problem up front.”

  What a wack ass set up, I thought, exchanging a glance with my mother as Gina turned to fuss at her sister.

  “I’m going to let y’all get back to it,” Les said, chuckling as he caught on to the obvious lie too. “I will cover the pedicures though – theirs too,” he told the worker, indicating me and my mother.

  Before I could speak up to tell him our pedicures were covered in the package we’d already paid for, his mother spoke up again.

  “Don’t you dare spend another dime on that girl!”

  “Another?!” my mother said, not even giving me a chance to open my mouth. “My daughter has always had, has, and will always have her own – she doesn’t need your son to pay for a damn thing for her.”

  “Whoa,” Les bellowed, stepping into their eyeline so they weren’t looking at each other. “Mama, that’s uncalled for. We’re not about to do that. Logan, Mrs. Byers – please, I’m sorry.”

  “You’re fine, sweetheart,” my mother said, sitting back and swallowing the rest of her champagne.

  That was how I knew we were really back on good terms, cause Kimberly Byers didn’t play about her baby, and I guess she felt like she needed to make that clear.

  And I certainly wasn’t complaining.

  24

  Pierre

  I had key card privileges now.

  And I didn’t even care how corny it might be to be excited about that, I just was.

  No longer did I have to call to get Logan to let me into her building or wait around to catch somebody going in or out. Not to be confused with keys to her place; I still had to be let into her front door.

  But this was progress.

  This was a step, even in a situation where we still hadn’t really defined what this thing between us was.

  Now that, I was trying not to be too pressed about.