Generations: Wilder Times

by Lori Folkman

  He suspected what the problem was around take seven. But then once he saw the footage, he knew for sure. Katrina was afraid to touch him. This was a complete backfire on his plan.

  “Do you want to sit down?” he asked her. She looked like she was going to be sick. She probably should sit down. But then he realized he probably just made it sound even worse. “Or you can stand if you want,” he amended. “It’s not like I have bad news or anything.

  “You … don’t?” She sounded like she didn’t believe him.

  He reached for two nearby chairs and sat them facing each other—close, so that when they sat, their knees almost touched.

  “I have to confess something,” he began. “I have been deliberately avoiding you the last few days.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. Then she lowered them, trying to look composed. He wanted to smile. Her animated reactions were the entire reason they were having this discussion. “Not because of you—in a bad way. But because … because,” he gave a small sigh. He hated to spill it like this. Typically he could show a girl how he felt about her. That was easy. Telling her—upfront, without any sort of confirmation on her part was rather nerve racking. “I really like you, Katrina. I like being around you. You have the most … expressive face. I could be entertained for hours, just watching your expressions. And I thought that … I hope that we have some pretty good chemistry goin’ on.

  “So I had an ulterior motive. I hope it doesn’t make you mad. But I thought that since we’re both amateurs—not real actors or anything—that our first … contact with each other should be on screen. So it will look real. So that the audience will see that chemistry. See what it’s like the first time we touch. The first time we … connect, in that way.”

  He told a small lie. He could act. Not Oscar-worthy or anything. But he’d had plenty of training. He didn’t know about Kat. She was raw. And even if she was well trained, he doubted that she could reproduce some of those uninhibited expressions. Her looks of delight, surprise, disgust: they were all done with twice the enthusiasm of the average girl. Like she enjoyed everything twice as much.

  But she also suppressed some of her reactions around him. He noticed this right off. The instant, candid response was always there. But then it was as if some internal kill-switch kicked in. And she would cover up the emotion with fake impassiveness. It never completely worked. And that made it all the more intriguing. What was going on inside of that silly head of hers? What kept her from letting loose entirely?

  He also noticed that the kill-switch never kicked in during her interactions with Jackson. He didn’t know if she was that way with her entire family: he just knew that he wanted to get there. He wanted her to show her true feelings, because he was ready to do the same. Hiding it for the last two weeks kept him up more nights thinking about it than he cared to recall. He was beginning to wish that he could get an intravenous caffeine drip.

  She was doing it right now: covering up her emotions. This time he honestly couldn’t tell what she was hiding. Anger? Delight? “So what are you saying exactly?” she asked.

  Ah. It was confusion. Disbelief.

  “I’m saying that I wanted our first touch to be in front of the camera. To capture the chemistry for the sake of the video. And that’s why we never practiced together.”

  He could see that she understood now. She scowled for half a second. He jumped on it quickly, before it got buried too deeply. “Does that upset you?” he challenged.

  “No,” she quickly responded.

  “Really?” He felt like an attorney. He was going to force the truth out of her, eventually.

  Her face softened into a small smile. “Maybe, a little. I just thought … that you were avoiding me ‘cause you weren’t into me. And then I thought that you were going to fire me for messing up. So yeah, I’m a little mad that you … toyed with me. I probably got a new ulcer today.”

  He had to smile at her, although he felt badly for what he’d done. But he couldn’t say that. So he reached for her hand. He laced his fingers through hers. Her hand was soft, like he’d expected. But she gripped his hand with more strength than he would have guessed. It made him smile. It felt like she was holding his hand like her life depended on it. Like she would fall into some deep abyss if he let go. An enormous smile had erupted on her face. She looked like she’d just won some sort of lifetime achievement award. And that was the response he wanted—on camera.

  He still had to try for it. “Do you want to spend more time alone?” he asked. “Getting … comfortable. Or do you think we could try it again?”

  She nodded her head. “We can do it. In front of the camera. I feel better now.”

  Excellent. This might not have been a mistake after all. He’d still get her expressive face on camera. Maybe. “One thing Katrina,” he said, “Don’t hold back. Don’t be afraid to show what you are feeling. Just let loose entirely. Imagine the character: that she’s been waiting for this one guy for decades. What is she feeling when he finally reaches her? When he finally touches her? When they embrace. She has been waiting for this for a lifetime … several lifetimes, actually. He should know how she feels … know how much she has longed for his touch, just by the way she looks at him. I think we can replicate that, in our expressions, if we don’t hold back. If we think about these past few weeks, wanting to be closer, wanting to get to know each other better. We can channel that into this dance. Make it real.”

  Katrina’s chin pulled down as she bit on her bottom lip, kinda shy like. “I can do that. I think I can relate to her,” she grinned slyly.

  ……

  It was beautiful really, the way the dance was turning out. They were on day two. They’d filmed all the close-ups yesterday and Ben had reviewed tape first thing this morning. They’d done it. She’d done it. Her emotions were there. She wasn’t holding back. There were points where she looked so happy she could float up to heaven, and points where she looked at him with such yearning that it gave him chills. It was good. Beyond good: it was brilliant.

  Ernie’s choreography was seamless. At certain times in the dance, it looked like Ben was a puppeteer, controlling Katrina’s every reflex. Like without him, she’d collapse into a heap on the floor. And it wasn’t just Ben who saw it this way. Paul saw it as well. “This is genius, Ben,” he said. Ben felt his chest grow warm from the compliment. “I was worried yesterday,” Paul stated. Not that this was a surprise. In the emergency conference yesterday, Paul had told Ben that this was a horrible mistake and they should have gone with a professional dancer, just like Paul had first insisted. “But it’s coming together. She’s fabulous.”

  “I know,” Ben said. It was everything Ben had imagined. Maybe more. He was relieved … so relieved that she’d pulled it off. He wanted to be right on this one. For many reasons—one of them being that he wanted to prove Paul wrong. And score, he had.

  Today they would film the dance from a few more angles. Today should also be the last day. Everyone seemed to be happy: to have that light at the end of the tunnel feeling. They were already two weeks behind schedule. It was time to get this baby wrapped and on to editing.

  Ben didn’t know how he felt about having it all end. He’d enjoyed it, the entire process. He’d enjoyed being introduced to two average all-American kids. And developing relationships with them. Even though playing video games during down-time had begun as a way to keep himself distracted from Katrina, Ben had come to enjoy Jackson. And that friendship. Jackson never seemed to be impressed with Ben’s wealth. Jackson had this “whatever” attitude. He never asked questions … never started conversations just for the sake of talking. He seemed to be comfortable to just hang. Which was a rare attribute in most of Ben’s friends.

  Of course, there was the Katrina aspect that made Ben reluctant to have the filming end. He didn’t quite know what would become of this little thing he had growing with her. It might not continue on. Paul had reminded him of that little fact earlier today, before they revie
wed tape.

  For one thing, their lives were very different. It could prove to be difficult. Maybe even impossible. And the other thing was something Ben didn’t know if he agreed with. Paul thought that dating Katrina would be bad for business, so to speak. It might make Ben look average. Or like he wanted to look average. Which no Wilder should ever aspire to. Plus, it could bring on an undesirable effect: every high school girl in America would be thinking that if Katrina Hayes could get a date with Ben Wilder, then why not give it shot? They might all think that they had a chance as well. Which was absurd. Katrina wasn’t like every other high school girl. She was special.

  Ben’s fan base was primarily female. Okay, it was entirely female. American girls loved them some Ben Wilder. He already was met with thousands of screaming girls at every event he attended. They threw him clothing. Jewelry. Underclothing. Pictures. Phone numbers. He even had his share (very large share) of stalker fans. Girls who followed his every move. Girls who his security force knew by face. And their faces weren’t all that was known, unfortunately.

  So if it became public that Ben was dating the girl next door, pandemonium might break out. On one hand, pandemonium meant more money, and Paul never was one to turn his back on added revenues. But. Paul said that pandemonium would make security more difficult. “It would be harder to ensure your safety,” Paul had said somberly. “And that always has to be our primary concern.”

  Yes, dating Katrina could raise some issues—but Ben thought she was worth it. Even if it meant having to ramp up the security forces.

  The dancing today was just as riveting. He really felt as if they were the only ones in the world, even though they were dancing in front of an entire film crew. He was completely transfixed. He had no doubt how Katrina felt about him: this wasn’t acting. He wished that he could see this same response from her: off camera. When they really were alone.

  Thinking about being alone with Katrina probably wasn’t a good thing while trying to do the dance as choreographed. There were a few times that he held her a little too tight, or paused, staring into her eyes, for a little too long. Today, they had to do a few retakes because of his … overzealousness. He was about ready to call for a break so he could take her to his dressing room where he could hold her as tight as he wanted. Look into her eyes for as long as he wanted.

  They were filming the part where he pulled her out of a low dip, with the camera square on both their faces, which were just about an inch apart. He was supposed to pause and stare at her for five counts. He counted it in his head. One, two … and then he kissed her.

  That wasn’t in the script, nor was it his intention. But he really couldn’t help it. She was right there, looking so impassioned. It was an impulse. And hadn’t he told her not to hold back, to let loose of her feelings? Shouldn’t he be doing the same?

  It was a quick kiss, lasting only those remaining three seconds. But it wasn’t like the quick kiss he’d give his grandma. It was the kind of kiss he’d give his girl before he headed off to war. That one last kiss before running to catch the train. The kiss that would be the last memory between two lovers whose lips may never touch again.

  When he pulled back, she looked surprised. And like she wanted more. He felt her go weak in his arms. Her mouth was still open, and he heard her sigh. He smiled when the director yelled “cut!” He even laughed a little. Everyone was cheering. Whistling. Whooping. It was a tad embarrassing.

  “I … hadn’t planned that,” he said. He felt like he should explain. He hadn’t kept that a surprise so he could capture her expression on camera. “I just got carried away … a bit.”

  Her face was pink. Not like she was embarrassed. But like she was enlivened. “Yeah, just a bit,” she said softly. She didn’t say it like she was scolding him, but like she was asking him for more.

  He would have liked to have found out if that’s what she was really asking for, but he was called to the control booth. They wanted him to review the footage of what had just been taped. That mistaken indulgence. Paul would probably scold him for not being professional.

  But what Ben saw on tape was even better than what he’d witnessed. Because he could see his face too. It looked like it felt: like a sudden urge that couldn’t be restrained, even if he were shackled and chained to the wall. It was très romantique.

  “We have to use it,” he said.

  He didn’t get any argument from his director. Not even from Paul. Jackson didn’t say anything against it either. Jackson didn’t say anything at all. Ben just realized he’d kissed his buddy’s sister. Oops. He decided that he didn’t want to look at Jackson right now.

  “Play it again,” Ben ordered the techie. “And the music. Bring that up too.” Ben had the music played in sync with the video. And then he got an idea.

  The part where he’d kissed Katrina was the part where there was a pause in the song. Following the pause was a synth-crescendo: the climatic point in the song where the entire spectrum of notes was heard in an ascending slide, ending with a brusque pop. The song stopped for two beats and then started in again with the final verses.

  Rock-n-roll

  Sex

  Drugs

  The change is upon us

  Are we happy now?

  Now do we feel free?

  Were we oppressed or do we digress?

  The wars are unceasing

  A new world we’re releasing

  And this is where I come in

  Are we happy now?

  Were we happy then?

  Can we see the past?

  Can we see up ahead?

  The mistakes that we’ve made

  How oft will we repeat

  Repeat

  Cause every generation …

  The script called for that pause where he looked intently at Katrina for five seconds, then decade scenes would flash through the crescendo giving the effect of a strobe light, but with images. But the kiss was so much better than the dance scenes with random extras. It needed to be Ben and Katrina flashing through that crescendo, holding the kiss. They needed to flash through as the characters of each decade, then back to the modern-day version.

  When Ben expressed his idea out loud, he was met with hesitation this time. “Getting you guys back into costume for each of the eight different scenes will take time, Ben,” Paul said. Yeah, yeah, Ben knew what was next. Time is money.

  Ben rebutted, “Not that long. It’s just two people, not all the extras. We’d have a few more days filming, that’s all.”

  Tim, the director, said, “But we are already pressed for time getting this to edit. If we wait a few more days, we won’t release on time.”

  “Why can’t we send what we already have to editing? They can get started on the majority of the video and then get going on this part in a few days.”

  Everyone seemed to contemplate this. Tim nodded in agreement. The editing team nodded and said that it would work. With one stipulation: that they could have the rest of the video by Friday. That gave them three more days. No problem. They could get through three costume changes a day if they really hustled.

  So it was agreed upon, and everyone congratulated Ben. Even Paul. But not Jackson. He still hadn’t said anything. In fact, he was scowling.

  Chapter Nine ……

  Ticked off. Majorly. Jackson felt like he was about to erupt lava out his ears. They would not be finished today. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. It would be Friday. It felt like decades to him. And all because Ben had to pucker-up.

  Jackson felt like this project was a sliver under his skin, growing and festering. He couldn’t wait to remove it. It took up way too much of his time. His schoolwork was getting neglected. He was never home to help out, which meant no allowance, which meant no spending money. And since he hadn’t gone back to his paper route after what had happened last fall, his tiny allowance was his lifeline. He didn’t even have enough money to buy a pack of Twinkies—sweet nectar of life. But being at home wasn’t just about
doing chores—he kinda missed all the little kidlets as well. They were always in bed by the time he got home from the studio. While they did get on his nerves more often than not, they were still a source of normalcy in his life. And he missed that.

  In addition to staying up late to do homework, there was this constant sense of malaise that he carried with him. Even while he slept. The sense that his sanity was slipping farther and farther away. Watching Kat and Ben kiss for the next three days wasn’t going to help the situation. Jack knew that something had to give, or he might explode. Hopefully it wouldn’t happen around anyone too influential.

  ……

  The next few days passed quickly. Without incident. Jackson didn’t have any eruptions to speak of. Just a few more sleepless nights. But that was nothing new. His mom kept suggesting he finally get in with that psychiatrist. Jackson pushed her off.

  The one perk for having to watch Kat and Ben kiss over and over and over again? Ben had asked Jackson to plan the cast party, so not only did Jackson have something to do those last few days, he also got to plan the party of his lifetime. This was the blow-out birthday party Jackson had always wanted, but had never been able to afford.

  Since there was no cap on the budget, this party was more of a conglomeration of a decade’s worth of parties rather than any one event. Jackson had rented Jumpin Beanz. That’s where he had wanted his twelfth birthday, but instead got the roller rink. It was cheaper. Jumpin Beanz was only the coolest indoor jump facility in So. Cal. They had everything inflatable, including those Sumo suits Jackson couldn’t wait to try out.

  The food was being catered by three different companies. A burger joint, a pizza place, and … a sushi bar. That was Jackson’s one refined food selection. Burgers and pizza had been served at Jackson’s other parties (but never by companies of this caliber) but sushi? Never even been an option.

  The Wilder’s party planner had insisted on doing the decorations for the party. Like she didn’t trust Jackson’s taste. Jackson was sure his decorations would have cost less: he’d planned on having thousands of post-it notes stuck on the walls with sayings like “Yay! We’re Done!” and “Way to go Jackson!” The swanky party-planning lady had laughed at him like he was joking. But he wasn’t. This was actually intended to be part of the entertainment as well. It would take someone an hour to read all the individualized messages, especially if Jackson spelled out some of the phrases with only one letter per post-it.