So here it was. Her first day with Josh. They only had a few scenes together, but it would be interesting to see how they did as Billy and Kate, as actors. The first scene was set in the stable, and was to be Billy’s first reaction to seeing Kate after many years – after fighting a war, in fact. He wasn’t prepared for her arrival – Kate had the upper hand, because Bokeem had talked about Billy, and she was certain it was her Billy. She just had to eyeball him to be sure. So the scene was kind of tough, but there would be no physical contact. At least that was something to help with the nerves. She knew she would have to kiss him soon enough, but for now it was everything just to be working with this man, to have his eyes fixed on hers, to sit with him in the cast chairs while the lighting and camera angles were tweaked.
As Jessie was finishing up in hairy make-up, a tired Josh was being ushered in, eyes downcast and mind on his scene prep. On this show, the ADs always tried to start cast through ‘the process’, as it was known, before blocking, if they could manage it. Every extra second counted when you considered the number of crew being paid, and the number of pages a producer wanted the director to try to get shot in a day. On this day Jessie leaned her elbows on the arms of her chair, pulled herself up, and headed towards the door, where she met Josh head on. It was an awkward moment, but they recovered quickly and said brief hellos. She waited in the van – set transport - for him to finish so they could be shuttled to set. He didn’t take long; he just needed a little wax in his chestnut brown, shoulder length hair to give it a greasy unwashed feel, and some base and then powder on his face to help reduce shine under the lights. They wouldn’t be shooting for likely two hours by the time blocking was done, then the camera set up and lighting complete. But they would need that time for rehearsal, and would have their basic make-up tweaked later.
Stephen bounded into the van as well. He had been through the process already and had been reviewing his sides – the day’s script excerpts – in his trailer. He was a morning person and so was keen and ready to go, which left the two more nervous actors time to ruminate as he chatted animatedly. They got to set, blocked the scene effortlessly, and were released until it was time to shoot.
Josh turned to Jessie. As his nervous, soulful chocolate eyes met hers, a hopeful sea-pearl ice blue, each felt a shiver of energy shoot up their spines.
“Where would you like to hang out to go over these lines?” he asked, his voice a little brusque. Then he added, “Have you had breakfast?”
She shrugged and responded, “Yep, I had some yogurt and granola. I could use a coffee, though.”
He nodded and then led the way to the quaint white schoolhouse, where they wouldn’t be shooting that day and where there were chairs available; and then he turned to see if Steve was coming along with them. He wasn’t – he was happily engaged in a discussion with the director. Josh gestured to the first AD, who was eyeballing the actors to see where they were headed.
“Can we get a couple of coffees?” he asked, walking partly backwards and trying not to look at Jessie, who looked so damn cute in her petticoat and camisole with a light jacket thrown over top for warmth – wardrobe was bringing her up later to finish dressing, when they were a little closer to shooting. Josh was forced to make eye contact yet again as he asked her what she took in her coffee.
He memorized her response, “Just a little milk.” He was hoping he would be the bearer of many of her future cups of java, a role he would gladly take over from Stephen. He turned forward again, and led the way up the steps into the schoolhouse. He relished the sharp staccato of her boots on the wooden steps behind him as he nervously pulled open the door and held it for her. Jessie’s presence anywhere close to him was a blessing he cherished, a tribute to her willingness to share something of herself, and now he was about to spend time alone with her in a freshly built classic schoolhouse. It was as if time itself was sending him a message – treasure now the company of this girl, for your presence on this earthly plane is but the briefest of moments; you must value at its instant a turn of her head in your direction, or her soulful eyes when they gift you a glimpse, or a brush of her fingers when you hand her a steaming coffee in a cheap brown paper cup.
As she went inside, Jessie’s finger was twirling her newly styled nineteenth century up-do, causing Cynthia, the on-set hair gal, to curse under her breath.
The first AD put his hand around his headband microphone to keep his voice from travelling too far, and he spoke quietly. “Kate and Billy are in the schoolhouse. Get craft to bring down some fresh coffee, the stuff on set is crap – it’s been sitting too long.” The Vancouver coffee culture was huge – craft’s biggest challenge was in keeping its cast and crew in good caffeine.
Inside the schoolhouse with its small reproduction wooden seats, engraving of a young, thin Queen Victoria, and homegrown eau-de-sawdust fragrance, Josh and Jessie found themselves alone for the first time since they graced the nauseating garbage bins outside Charlie’s Club. They stood at the door for a minute, looking at the chairs spread out before them. Then Jessie turned to Josh.
“Where shall we begin?” she asked quietly.
Then, after a frozen moment, she stepped forward and took a seat.
***
That first day with Josh went about as well as could be expected. They were cordial with each other, but neither was gushing over the other. Stephen and his genial rapport with the crew kept everyone laughing and happy through the long workday. The crew had been working together long enough now to establish a pretty good routine and, as far as Jessie could tell, everyone seemed to have a good work ethic.
At lunch she joined the boys, and then Sue-Lyn, Carter and Maggie appeared – all six main cast were in the afternoon’s scenes. So mostly Jessie and Josh were able to sit back and just enjoy the other cast members’ cajoling and conversation, and were able to discreetly observe one another. The afternoon went well. Jon was pleased.
Tossing her car keys on a glass-topped table in her downtown condo that night, Jessie exhaled deeply. She was thinking maybe this change in her usual schedule would work out okay, after all.
With the distant city lights a symphony of soft, lovely reds and greens beyond and below, and a Baileys and milk on a cork coaster nearby, Jessie settled into her baby grand piano to work out a new song. Barely a phrase into laying the map on the ivory keys, her cell rang. It was Charlie, wondering how things went on her first day ‘in TV land.’ On her end of the extension, Jessie smiled before she answered, and thought, well, some things will never change. TV land, to Charlie, was definitely a step backwards. But she was glad he called (she hadn’t thought he would), she was happy for the conversation, and she was relieved she could stay in Vancouver for a while. In fact, she was so content that day she almost forgot to be sad about the past.
And that, for Jessie, meant only one thing – that the hole in her bucket was finally beginning to fill in.
Chapter Six
The days settled into a regular routine. Shooting wasn’t full time, as Jessie had anticipated, so she had time to go to the gym, to sort out future possible film projects, appointments and appearances with Deirdre and her army of staff such as her publicist and social media manager, and to check in at her office to pow-wow with Charles. As much as she loved the acting, Jessie’s first love was – and always would be – her music. Her father had ingrained a love of lyric and melody in her that would always remain. When he died so suddenly, Jessie felt like her last connection with him was music. She had his songs and his guitar. Music was what got her through his passing, through the funeral, through the years with her mother’s monster of a second husband, down to South Carolina, and through a difficult time with Rachel, Sandy, and Deuce McCall. It was music again that helped her survive her few years on the streets when she first came to Vancouver, when she could barely speak and seemed only able to communicate through song.
Jessie heard songs in her head – full songs. Sometimes she thought her father was placing
them inside her heart for her to write, to use for healing. She heard complete melodies and lyrics. In fact, at night when she couldn’t sleep, from the time she was first able to remember, there were the songs. She could not recall a time in her life when music didn’t exist in her head before falling asleep at bedtime, or when things got tough. And these were not songs she heard on the radio – they were complete, original tunes. She felt she was someone’s vessel. Why not her father’s after he passed? His life had been cut short. Maybe he still had music to write, things he wanted to say.
She considered herself very fortunate, although at times she thought that gift was a curse, something that set her apart from others, because she figured most people didn’t receive or make up original songs every night before drifting off to sleep. As she got older and, seemingly without mercy life sent her its severe lessons, she had no doubt the music was a gift. From her father? Questionable. But certainly from some higher power somewhere, of that she was sure. It kept her sane and, at times, was her one true and only salvation.
Jessie’s music was soulful and profound. The genre she sang was a blend of indie and popular light rock, and her best tunes were ballads, slow songs whose lyrics asked questions and pondered the universe. She’d had some hard questions to ponder in her life, so it made sense this was where her mind went during that super-creative time before sleep when her mind was generally the most focused and relaxed. Occasionally her lyrics were answers, of a sort. These were the songs that came when she was hurting the least in her life. They were the most mellow and sublime. The angry songs – and there were indeed a number of angry songs, sometimes disguised in upbeat, happy pop-ish melodies - always came to her when merciless, terrible things were happening to her, when her fully awake mind absolutely without exception could not comprehend a reason for living. Those were the moments that she was afraid of snapping entirely. They were also the moments beyond that level of severe, horrific pain, when she had indeed snapped on some level, and retreated to a deeper place where her mind could heal a little, and later return her to a level of consciousness she could handle. Those were the days and months when she had lived on the streets because she couldn’t care enough, or be lucid and sane enough, to pull herself together.
These days, her music was still soulful and profound. But it was less angry these last few years. Josh’s Song, as she secretly thought of the ballad she wrote after finding Josh amongst the smelly food scraps, was lovely and beautiful and serene and hopeful, and it was her all-time favorite. If nothing else, there was certainly something about this quiet reflective guy that drew the most amazing music out of Jessie’s soul.
One day in late fall, as Jessie was just finishing up a meeting with Charles to try to find some recording time that fit into her busy schedule, a knock came at her office door. Charles’ assistant Magda, a tall, gorgeous ebony-skinned woman in her mid-thirties, opened the door and peeked in.
“Jessie, there’s a fine looking gentleman here to see you. Do you have a minute?” She smiled and winked at Jessie.
Thinking it was Charlie, who was in the city that week and who was known to occasionally drop by unannounced, Jessie nodded and asked Magda to send him in, as she and Charles were just wrapping up. As Charles made his way to the door, Jessie started to gather her keys and purse, expecting a lunch date where she and Charlie would likely go over their guest list for the now scheduled late June wedding. She was running lunch menus around in her head and was just settling on some mild Indian curry at a place nearby, when Magda escorted Josh into the small office. Jessie was so thrown she almost dropped her keys, and it was in fact Magda who broke the ice and stirred her to action by wandering over to the rosewood sideboard and offering Josh a drink of water. Mystified, she raised her eyebrows at Jessie as she walked by.
After Magda handed Josh the water and left the room, closing the door behind her, Jessie settled her butt against the desk and crossed her arms, facing her co-star directly. Josh had never just dropped in before. Something was up.
He took a sip of water and then looked around the small room. Genuine surprise registered on his face.
“For some reason I expected something bigger,” he said, leaning against the sideboard and crossing his ankles over one another, his hip length black leather jacket open to reveal a checked shirt with a white T-shirt underneath. He had a conservative rebel side, this boy. She took a chance and quickly glanced down. He was wearing black leather boots, shiny, with pointed toes. Gulp. All he needed was the cowboy hat from Drifters. Then she would be completely undone.
She gathered her scattered senses back from the various corners of the room to which they’d disappeared. “Yeah, well, all I really need is a desk with a computer, and a TV.”
Josh glanced over at the leather couch on the west wall and a small smile played across his face. She tried not to notice his single dimple, and forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand. He looked back at her and raised his adorable eyebrows. Jessie shifted, and gripped the desk behind her as her face flamed grapefruit pink.
“That’s not for me. It’s the guys that like the couch.” She closed her eyes, immediately chagrined and embarrassed. “Charles and his crew. The record guys.”
A few sketchy retorts he attributed to Stephen’s nefarious influence popped into Josh’s head. Like, sure you don’t mean Charlie, not Charles? Or oh, that explains a lot. Charles, your record producer and sometime film producer…sort of a casting couch kind of deal, huh. He pushed those ridiculous thoughts away instantly. He was just jealous of Charlie; and knew in his heart that nothing untoward or weird was going on with Charles. Her producer was a stand-up guy, well respected in the community and, besides, Jessie was super-talented. She didn’t need to sleep with anyone to find success in the entertainment industry.
Jessie opened her eyes at the same time that she began to wrap tendrils around her forefinger. Josh found it highly amusing. As she blushed uncomfortably he fought back a smile, downed his water, then turned to the sideboard to set the empty glass down and to give her a chance to recover. He thought it was hilarious – and somewhat interesting – that Jessie was so embarrassed. He glanced out the window, and then turned to face her.
“I took a chance that you might be here – you said something yesterday about being in your office today. I know you’re swamped but I was hoping we could find a few minutes to talk about tomorrow.”
Jessie re-crossed her arms and pursed her lips, wrinkling her brow in that cute way of hers that Josh adored. He took a deep breath. She sure was appealing in those ripped jeans and yellow plaid converse sneakers, her hair tumbling loosely around her shoulders.
“Tomorrow, what’s tomorrow…?” Jessie whispered under her breath, hoping she hadn’t forgotten anything for which she needed to be super prepared. Although if Josh was here at her office, then likely there was something she’d forgotten about. Maybe she was trying to do too much. Shit. What could it be?
Josh’s expression changed when he realized she didn’t have a sweet clue what he was talking about. He looked at her in consternation. Took a very deep breath. Okay, he said to himself. Either she really doesn’t give a shit and isn’t remotely worried, or she doesn’t know.
Jessie saw the wheels turning in his head, and raised her eyebrows. “Josh?”
“Okay,” he said, pointing a finger at her for emphasis and tilting his head so that a few loose strands of hair fell over one cheek, “I’m going to go with you not knowing that the scenes we were supposed to shoot tomorrow have been moved to Monday.”
Today was Thursday, tomorrow Friday…so that meant that Monday’s scenes had been moved to Friday. Tomorrow. And Monday’s scenes were…she had to rack her brain to conjure them up from beneath what was supposed to be shot tomorrow, plus her mushed brain from the dates Dee pressed her with earlier, plus the songs she and Charles had discussed along with dates to squeeze in some recording, and then…Oh Jesus.
She clapped her hand over her mouth and
looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Oops. Did I say that out loud?”
Josh attempted a wry smile, but it came out weak and crooked. So, she had forgotten. Although he was somewhat relieved now that they were both on the same page, as he realized she was just as nervous about Monday’s scenes (now Friday’s scenes – tomorrow!) as he was.
“Kristene sent the email around a few hours ago. It’s supposed to rain tomorrow so we’re going for weather cover. They’ve reversed the days.”
“Okay then, well I guess I’ve got some work to do. I thought I would have the weekend to learn those scenes.”
Jessie turned away from Josh and squeezed her eyes shut for a second. She – and JOSH – would be shooting their first erotic love scene tomorrow. They’d reached the point in the script where Billy confronts Kate about why she is in the remote wilderness of BC where he has ended up, instead of safe at home with her rich father. Billy comes to Kate’s room in a nearby boardinghouse and, behind Bokeem’s back, they are honest with each other for the first time, and succumb to their deepest feelings after some hefty verbal sparring. Even without the hazy diffused lighting and erogenous touching, that particular scene, hopefully scheduled as the last of the day, was going to be emotionally difficult and exhausting. Jessie and Josh were solid actors – they were good. Every day they went to work they had to pull up some deep, buried parts of themselves in order to fully connect with the emotions of the characters they were playing. They had to be Kate and Billy. Having to go through a serious fight and then end up playing an HBO endorsed sex scene many times over in order to capture the multiple angles necessary in order to cut the scene together, would be unbelievably draining. And, of course, this would all have to happen with at least fifteen or twenty crew standing by. At least the extraneous crew would be on standby off set – only department keys would be permitted inside where the action was happening, in order to give the cast some privacy for such a sensitive part of their shoot day.
A Song For Josh, Drifters Book One Page 9