The Last Take

by Tabitha Bree

“Fine.”

  “Great. We’ll see you at seven.” She hangs up.

  I turn to Adam, chewing at my bottom lip.

  “What was all that about?” he asks.

  “That was my mom,” I say, bunching my eyebrows together in anticipation.

  “How do you feel about pork tenderloin?”

  The doorbell clangs, deep and ominous, as we wait outside the entrance of the Tuscan villa that is the Miller residence.

  “Thank you for coming,” I say to Adam. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

  “Believe it or not, I heard you the first seven times you thanked me.”

  I nod, exhaling into the thick wooden door.

  “Hey, are you alright?” He places a hand on my shoulder and a quick shiver runs over me before the door swings open.

  “Well, as I live and breathe.”

  Over the threshold stands my mother, her signature cashmere cardigan draped over her slender shoulders. Her signature judgmental smile plastered across her face.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  I close the distance between us and we share a brief hug with tiny tyrannosaurus arms.

  “I feel like I could snap you,” she says, taking my bicep in her vice grip. “I hope you’re not starving yourself while you prove your point.”

  “You are skinnier than I am,” I reply. It’s nice to see she hasn’t lost her touch in the unwelcome critiquing department. “This is Adam, the director of the film I’m working on.”

  He walks in awkwardly, hands in pockets. I get the idea Adam isn’t a jump-through-hoops kind of guy when it comes to making a good first impression. I just have to hope my parents behave themselves until we can leave.

  Mom gestures for us to walk with her. “Lovely to meet you. Evie’s father is just through here. Sarah got called to the hospital, so it’s just the four of us.”

  I look at Adam and mouth one final ‘thank you’ before we make our way to the dining room table, where my dad is waiting.

  The rest of the introductions are made and within thirty minutes, we’re sitting behind plates of pork tenderloin.

  “So, you’re the man running the show,” my dad says to Adam between mouthfuls, touching a napkin to his mustache.

  “I’m the director, yeah.”

  “I guess we have you to thank for our daughter flitting around in Los Angeles instead of coming home then,” Mum laughs, like pretending it’s a joke makes it less snarky.

  “Mom,” I say under my breath.

  “Evie is doing really well,” Adam answers. “She’s a great asset to the team.”

  Mom seems mildly pleased with this answer, and then Dad chimes in. “I guess that comes as no surprise. Our Evie is a smart girl.”

  Three, two, one…

  “Which is why she would’ve made an excellent doctor.”

  I breathe out as quietly as I can, tightening the grasp around my pork knife. Adam looks at me and smiles thinly before turning to my dad.

  “I’m sure Evie will excel at whatever she decides to do after being a production assistant. She’s great at managing people. In fact, the film might not have gone ahead if it wasn’t for her.” He gives me a knowing smirk. “I can see her producing one day.”

  “But it’s all a bit vague, isn’t it?” Mum says, interlacing her fingers.

  Here we go.

  “The thing with medicine is that there’s a defined path set out for its graduates. Just look at Sarah.” Mom turns to me now. “Your sister is already a resident and making a real splash.”

  “The other thing about medicine is that I have no interest in doing it,” I snap.

  The sound of cutlery against china takes over as we all fall silent.

  After a few moments, Mom speaks again, her voice low and even. “One day, when you’re a mother, you’ll understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “That you just want the best for your children, and how disappointing it is to watch them just—”

  “So I’m a disappointment, is that it?”

  Dad reaches across the table, placing a pacifying hand over my wrist. “I think what your mother is trying to say is that we just want a bright future for you. We don’t want to see you wasting your time.”

  I put my cutlery down. This fork is dangerously close to going through a hand.

  “When I’m a mother, I’m going to support my children’s ambitions.” I whip my head towards my mom. “Even if they don’t neatly align with my own.”

  She locks her gaze on mine before shaking her head and dropping her eyes to the table. “It’s just a shame, that’s all.”

  “What’s a shame?”

  “You just…” she looks at my dad, who nods with her in premature agreement. “… you had so much potential.”

  I feel a twisting in my stomach, like someone is reaching in and squeezing my organs with their fist. I’m here, scouting locations for a feature film, having real, paid work in the movie industry. And they still aren’t satisfied with the path I’ve chosen. It doesn’t matter if I’m a PA or a director or the fricking CEO of an entire production company, it will never be enough for them.

  I will never be enough for them.

  A hard lump settles at the back of my throat, and I stare at my unfinished pork tenderloin, wishing I could magic myself back to LA and the few people who actually support me.

  “Evie has a huge amount of potential.”

  I’m startled when I realize it’s Adam’s turn to speak. All eyes focus on him.

  “Not only is she a hard worker and always willing to help at the drop of a hat, but she has a great attitude. She is one of the nicest people you will ever meet, and everyone she comes into contact with has a brighter day for being around her. She is ambitious and confident and sweet, and the fact you’re both sitting here telling her she’s not living up to your expectations is complete horse shit.”

  My mouth hangs open in response, unable to form words.

  “Now hang on just a second,” my dad says, holding up his palm.

  “No, you hang on.” Adam holds up his own palm. “I’ve been in the film business for years and let me tell you, most people don’t make it. The fact she has landed herself in a job with no connections is incredible in itself. And to hear you compare her to her sister is insane. I don’t know your other daughter, but I can tell you now she has absolutely nothing on this girl.”

  Everyone has well and truly stopped eating at this point, and I’m sure if someone had an actual pin, you would be able to hear it drop.

  Adam takes his napkin and drags it across his mouth. He doesn’t make eye contact as he turns to address me, his voice quiet and raspy. “We have an early start in the morning. We should be getting to the hotel.”

  He pulls out his chair, standing up. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, it was nice to meet you. Thank you for dinner. Evie, I’ll meet you at the car.”

  And leaving us all there like a bunch of rabbits caught in the headlights, he walks out the door.

  18

  Adam

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  This has been my mantra for the last twelve hours. But I don’t have an answer for it yet.

  After my embarrassing outburst in front of the Millers, I bolted to the car and shut myself in, panting and trying to calm myself down for the five minutes it took Evie to join me.

  Why did I lose my shit like that?

  Evie’s parents are assholes. There is no denying that. But it wasn’t my job to stand up for her. I can only imagine what an idiot and/or psycho she thought I was, bringing me over for fancy pork circles only for me to have an insane fit at her mom’s dinner table.

  When she got in the car, neither of us said anything. Which made me realize how bad it was. Evie always has something to say. So the fact I rendered her speechless is a testament to what an ass I made of myself. There was nothing left to do but drive to the hotel as quick as I could and hide away in my separate room until the morning, when hopefully the sho
ck of my outburst had worn off.

  We meet in the parking lot just after sunrise, ready to hit the locations on today’s list. The idea is to get them all done by the afternoon and make it back to LA before dark, and we have our work cut out for us.

  At least it will keep us busy.

  Meandering along the coast, we stop only for coffee, and eventually make our way to location one. The morning sky is clear and blue, and we check out the view from the top of the cliff first.

  “I’ve been here before,” Evie says, looking out at the ocean. “It’s beautiful.”

  She’s much quieter today, withdrawn. And I can’t tell if it’s because of all the things her parents said to her last night, or all the things I said. She is probably concerned I’ll have another random meltdown and throw her over the edge.

  “Let’s go down to the shoreline,” I say, leaving for the access path.

  Down on the beach, it feels more isolated, enveloped with huge rock walls on either side and the never-ending expanse of blue water in front. The ocean is calm, with only small waves breaking and eventually making their way to the sand.

  We split up to take photos and write notes—me about the shots we’d be filming here, Evie on where the departments could set up their sections—and before long we’re onto the next location to do it all over again.

  By early afternoon I’m tired, a little sunburned, and sick of looking at beautiful beaches. So when we meet at the next shoreline, I’m glad it’s the last one. Evie, on the other hand, seems like she’s still enjoying the views, staring out at the ocean like it’s just as stunning as the first time she laid eyes on it hours ago.

  “I wanted to say thank you.”

  Her words break through the silence and she turns to face me, her hand cupped over her brow to block out the sun. “For last night.”

  I make an awkward groaning sound.

  We were so close to never bringing it up again.

  “You don’t have to thank me. It was nothing.”

  “It wasn’t nothing to me.”

  Her eyes are fixed on mine as she smiles weakly. The breeze picks up behind her and sends her hair flying, shining auburn strands dancing in midair.

  “I’m sorry you had to sit through it,” she continues, attempting to tame her locks. “I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t mean to air our family drama in front of you.”

  “It really wasn’t a big deal,” I say, relieved their quarrel is the part she finds embarrassing or inappropriate.

  “They just drive me crazy sometimes.”

  “Really?” I cross my arms, staring out at the sea and frowning. “Can’t imagine why.”

  She laughs and nudges me in the side. And just like that, the tension from last night is dissolved.

  “But seriously, I hope you don’t take to heart what they said,” I say. “It’s one of those weird career options that seems make believe. A lot of people just don’t get it.”

  She smiles tightly. “Yeah, something like that.”

  I can tell she’s still a little off, but I drop it. I don’t have anything else valuable to contribute, anyway. And there’s something about heart-to-hearts at the beach that makes me want to punch myself in the face.

  Evie pulls out her phone, swiping and touching the screen. It occurs to me now that this is one of the few times I’ve seen her on it. Which is depressingly extraordinary. She is one of the few millennial girls I know who spends time looking at a beautiful ocean, not taking photos of it to upload on Instagram.

  After a minute, she stashes it back in her pocket. She stares at me with a strange, cautious look on her face. Like she’s already trying to guess my reaction to whatever she’s about to say.

  “Can I take you somewhere?”

  “You don’t want to head back to LA?” I furrow my brow.

  Her confident grin returns. “Nope. There’s something I want to show you first.”

  “Are you going to tell me what you’re up to?” I say as she moves the stick into the next gear flawlessly.

  “You’ll see,” she replies simply.

  I sigh, watching as the world goes by out the window. All I can gather is that we’re heading back into the hub of San Diego.

  “I’m surprised you let me drive your car,” she says, turning the corner. “Most guys don’t like girls driving their cars.”

  “Most guys are wankers.”

  She laughs and turns another corner, driving alongside fields of green.

  “Fancy a spot of golf, do you? Is that what you have in mind?” I ask.

  “You really don’t like being spontaneous, do you?” she laughs, turning away from the golf course.

  “I don’t like surprises. Especially when you don’t know if they’re going to be good or bad.”

  “You think I’d give you a bad surprise?”

  I squint my eyes at her. “I’m still trying to figure that out, Miller.”

  “Well, you won’t have to figure it out for much longer, because we’re here.”

  She pulls into the parking lot, and I scrunch my forehead. “Fashion Valley?”

  She goes to unbuckle her seat belt, and I put my hand over hers. “You’ve taken me to a shopping mall?”

  “Come on, Thorne. Where’s your sense of adventure?” She wiggles her hand free and bounces out of the car, leaving me no choice but to follow reluctantly. If this is the part of the movie where the bright, bubbly girl gives the moody grumpy guy a makeover, I need it to stop. Immediately.

  She leads us through the mall like a woman on a mission. My mind is flicking through all the potential possibilities as to why she brought me here when she comes to a sudden halt.

  “We’re here!”

  I look up.

  “A movie theater?”

  “Yep! And I know the girl who works behind the counter. She can sneak us in.”

  We walk inside, the smell of salty, buttery popcorn instantly wafting up my nostrils. “That’s nice of you, but I think I can spring for a movie ticket.”

  “But that would ruin the surprise. Plus, it already started an hour ago.”

  “Why are we watching a movie that we’ve already missed the first hour of?!” I protest as she waves to her friend near the soda machine.

  “You’ll see!”

  We walk down the hall and come to a door, her friend ushering us in with a smile. “Enjoy.”

  As we creep into the back seats, I immediately know what movie it is.

  “Oh… no.”

  “Yes!” she whispers.

  “Why are we watching this crap??”

  “You made it,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  “Exactly, which is how I know it’s crap. I can’t sit through this again!”

  “Shhh!” she grabs my arm, stopping me from leaving my seat. “Just trust me, okay?”

  Even in the dark, I can see her big brown eyes, imploring me to just go with it. And for some stupid reason, I do as I’m told.

  It’s my last movie that came out, released at the start of summer. The one I had sworn was going to be my last goofy action sci-fi when I watched it with a stomach ulcer at the premiere. Seeing it again now, I have the urge to do the old cover my eyes and peek through my fingers trick. It’s awful.

  I look around the cinema, still surprisingly full considering the movie came out months ago. People watch the screen, mindlessly shoveling popcorn into their mouths. Tossing in the odd Milk Dud. It is really a testament to how cheaply our attention can be bought these days.

  I imagine the people who read my father’s novels, sitting in silence and immersed in a complex world. Concentrating on the poetic words. Not gorging on snacks and walking away an hour later, only to forget the whole thing. My dad made art that stayed with people.

  What is my work achieving?

  No one understands what it’s like to be in the shadow of a man like that. To have him come up in every conversation I have with important people. And a lot of heavy hitters know who I am, sure. But only because t
hey know I can make this kind of nonsense. The kind that brings in the big bucks. There is nothing poetic about what I do. It has nothing on what my father gave to the world. And no one understands how hard it is to live up to that type of legacy.

  Except maybe Evie.

  I catch a glance at her sideways. Her face is lit up by the big screen, beaming and giggling at all the right places. Watching her watch the film doesn’t bother me so much.

  I think about what she said in the car, about it being intimidating to have a dad like mine. And I think it’s the first time anyone has ever even noticed, let alone acknowledged that. After meeting her parents, it makes sense why she understands that kind of pressure.

  What still doesn’t make sense, though, is why she brought me here. We are close to the end now, thank God. But I still want some answers. If anything I want to talk to Evie to distract myself from the hot mess on the screen in front of me.

  “Okay, I’ve trusted you long enough,” I whisper, leaning closer to her. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  She giggles. “Sorry, I got carried away by the movie. But yes, there is a reason I brought you here.”

  She rotates her body and puts her hand on my arm, staring at me like she’s about to impart some vital wisdom.

  “I brought you here because I think you’ve lost sight of your passion.”

  I scoff. “You don’t need to show me this garbage to tell me that.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” She shakes her head. “I mean, you’ve lost your grip on what you do, and the impact you have on people. You’ve become cynical.” She faces the front again, but this time, she’s looking around the room. “Look at everyone.”

  My eyes dart around and land back on Evie. “I don’t get it.”

  “Look at them. Look at their faces, at the way they interact with each other. Really look.”

  I try again, taking time to settle on each person. For a while I still don’t get it, but then it starts to register. People laughing, people smiling, people nudging the person next to them. One person throws their head back, letting a huge belly-laugh rip. Another whispers in the ear of their girlfriend, who squeals and nods and giggles. The guy in the row in front of us shouts “no way!”, pointing at the screen and grinning to his buddy next to him.