As we walked back to the soundstage, Lenora rambled on and on about Kat’s baby, Little Ricky. Before long, she was telling stories about Lucille Ball and what a great time she’d had getting to know her in the sixties when they worked together. At this point, I didn’t know if her stories from days gone by were real or figments of her imagination.
All the while, Jason and I walked side by side. At one point he reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. I couldn’t tell if he was sympathizing with me for having to listen to Lenora’s endless chatter about Hollywood past, or if the hand-holding spoke of more. Perhaps time would tell.
We joined the others for a final run-through of the show, then I sent my cast off to wardrobe to finalize their fittings while I talked through the more technical aspect of the episode with the camera crew. Jason led the way through this discussion, and I thanked God—albeit silently—for someone who really knew his stuff.
Jason walked me to my car after rehearsal, keeping me entertained with funny stories about his surfing days. The more he talked about being out on the water, the more appealing it sounded. In fact, the idea of getting away from the studio—getting away from house-flipping—held more appeal than I’d realized.
As we said our goodbyes, he reached for my hand once again and focused on my eyes. “I had a lot of fun with you today, Tia.”
Wow. New words. No one ever told me that I was fun. Hardworking, sure. Tough as nails, yep. But . . . fun?
“I had fun with you too.” His stories had been great, but our conversation over lunch had really made my day. Oh, if only Lenora hadn’t interrupted us. I half expected Jason to finish the conversation now, but his cell phone rang, and he took the call, then waved his goodbye.
Not that I minded. I climbed into my car and pointed it toward the nearest mall. I had a sudden desire to shop for clothes with color.
And shop I did. I found the prettiest blouses in greens and pinks. My favorite, though, was the soft blue button-up shirt. I’d never worn anything like it.
As soon as I arrived at home, my new wardrobe pieces went into the newly repaired closet. I had to push back some of the gray items to make space, but I didn’t mind a bit. In fact, I felt so good about things that I decided to cook dinner. Fumbling around in the freezer, I came out with a piece of tilapia, which I thawed and broiled in the oven. See, Tia? You can cook.
Fifteen minutes later, I ate the yummy fish, along with a salad. Then I headed off to take a long, hot bath. As I soaked under the luxurious bubbles, I thought about my conversation with Jason over lunch. I tried to imagine what he would’ve said if Lenora hadn’t happened upon us.
I got so lost in my imaginings that I almost fell asleep in the tub. Scrambling out, I dressed in a new pink nightie and headed straight for bed. By the time my head hit the pillow, I felt the lull of slumber.
The following morning I awoke feeling even more peaceful than the day before. Mama called me on my way to the studio, her happy-go-lucky voice like music to my ears.
“I won’t keep you long, Tia,” she said. “I know it’s Thursday. You’re filming in front of a live audience today.”
“Oh, it’s okay, Mama. I’ve got time to talk.”
And talk we did. She shared a funny story about something my dad had done last night, then sighed with contentment. Interesting. Was it just my relaxed state, or were other people changing too?
I arrived at the studio to find Lenora dressed up as Glinda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz. Not exactly the costume I would’ve picked for her today, so I sent her off to the wardrobe department to dress for her upcoming scenes.
“You’ve got to admit, she looks pretty good in that dress she’s wearing,” Jason said from behind me.
“Just not in the script for this particular episode.” I chuckled.
“You sure we can’t send it back for a rewrite? Take out the NASA bit and add a Wizard of Oz scene?”
“This late in the game?” I asked. “I’m flexible, but not that flexible.”
He crossed his arms.
“Okay, I’m not really flexible. But I’m working on it.”
“Yes, you are.” He leaned down to whisper, “And by the way, that color of blue is perfect for you.”
“I like it a lot too.” I giggled.
His breath was warm on my ear as he whispered, “I like a girl who knows what she likes.” A wink followed, which sent my heart fluttering a thousand directions.
Suddenly I knew exactly what I liked . . . and it had nothing to do with sitcom scripts. I shoved the script behind my back, hoping he hadn’t noticed the trembling in my hands.
A wiggle of his brows let me know he had. What’s happening here? I’m the one who’s always in control. I don’t let things inside the studio unnerve me. But one look into his gorgeous eyes convinced me otherwise. I melted like an ice cube on a hot sidewalk. In that moment, he could have very easily pulled me into his arms and kissed me, and I would have given myself over to the moment. In front of an audience, no less.
Audience!
I looked up to see that the doors had opened and the first five rows were already full.
“Man.” I looked at my watch and gasped. “Is it really that late? Our audience is here.”
“Just so you know,” Jason whispered, “where you’re concerned, there’s always an audience.” He gave me a knowing look, then meandered away.
“Always an audience?” I spoke the words aloud, trying to make sense of them.
“He’s nuts about you, Tia.”
I turned to face Athena, who handed me the corrected script. “He is?”
“Of course. I’m a writer. I keep a close eye on things like expressions, body signals, and so on. He’s been crazy about you since the day you arrived on the set.”
I could no longer deny it, could I? Still, talking about it openly made it seem almost too real.
She leaned in to whisper, “Trust me when I say that he thinks you’re the cat’s meow. And yeah, he’s always done a great job of acting tough—sometimes acting like he can’t stand you, even—but on the inside he’s a marshmallow. I’m glad he’s finally showing you that softer side. And speaking of softer, you look great.”
“Thanks.” A shiver ran up my spine as I contemplated her words. Most of my thoughts about Jason over the past several months had been of a different vein: How long can that guy go on irritating me before I smack him upside his handsome head? Now suddenly I had to change gears and ponder the fact that he actually liked me? What an interesting twist. Then again, all good scripts were filled with interesting twists.
Another shiver sent my thoughts reeling. Back to reality, Tia. We have a show to film. And an audience to deal with.
Thankfully, the filming went great. When Erin and Brock finished the scene where they kissed, the audience went wild. From her flushed cheeks, I’d have to say Erin enjoyed the process. She seemed to enjoy all of it, actually. From start to finish. I’d never seen such a natural in front of the camera.
By the time the filming came to a close, I felt more than confident about the episode. In spite of the problems leading up to it, everything had come off without a hitch. Well, except for a few dropped lines from Lenora, but we were getting used to that.
After the audience members left, I dismissed the cast, thanking them for a wonderful day. Most headed off to wardrobe to get changed, but Lenora lingered near the cameras.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Oh, I, um . . .” She shrugged and gave me a sheepish grin. “I can’t remember where I was going.”
Rex appeared behind her and put his hand on her back. “Down the hall to wardrobe, sweet girl. It’s time to get back into that beautiful gown you were wearing this morning.”
“Gown?” She sighed. “I guess. But I’d rather just wear my flannel nightgown.” She turned my way, shaking her head. “I simply don’t understand why he won’t let me wear my nightgown. It’s the most comfortable item of clothing I own.”
He stroked her arm. “I’ll get you home right away, Lenora, and you can change into your flannel nightgown.”
Her expression brightened. “The soft green one with the little roses on it?”
“Yes.” Rex nodded. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate and we’ll watch an old movie together.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful.”
He looked at me. “Looks like I won’t be able to stay tonight, Tia. Can you handle the dailies without me?”
“Sure,” I said, but I felt my insides turn to mush. I’d hoped to talk to Rex tonight, to tell him that Lenora had called The Scoop. Looked like it would have to wait till tomorrow.
He nodded, then took Lenora by the arm, guiding her down the hallway.
“That’s love in action.” Jason’s voice rang out from behind me.
I turned, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes. “It is. I can only hope to have someone like Rex in my life, should I ever . . .” I didn’t speak the words. I didn’t dare. But to have someone walk alongside you through the really tough seasons would be incredible.
“He’s amazing with her.” Jason nodded. “And speaking of amazing, Erin did a great job, don’t you think?”
“She was brilliant. Can’t wait to head upstairs to watch the dailies.” I paused, an idea coming to me. “Hey, Jason, I wonder if you could hang around and watch them with me. Rex has to take Lenora home, and Erin’s got a meeting at school. She told me all about it this morning.” I didn’t want to tell him how much I hated hanging out in that dark theater alone, so I threw in a line of flattery to throw him off. “You’ve got a great eye.”
He gave me a lingering glance and said, “Yes, I do.”
My heart almost stopped beating right then and there.
“I’d love to join you,” he added. “Just let me close up shop down here and I’ll be right up.”
“Perfect.”
I stopped off at the dressing room to thank Erin for a magnificent job, but I found her too engaged in a conversation with Brock to realize I was there. Oh well. I’d tell her tomorrow.
When I arrived in the viewing room, I gave a few instructions to our editor, then settled back in my chair, waiting on Jason. He turned down the lights and took the seat next to me.
“Where’s the popcorn?” he asked.
I laughed. “Yeah, we should probably keep some up here. Don’t know why I never thought of it.”
As we watched the various clips from today’s show, our laughter rang out time and time again. Not everything was flawless, though. Looked like we’d have to redo both Lenora’s scenes. I hated to have to tell Rex, but they would have to come back in tomorrow for a retake. Still, as Jason reached for my hand, none of the problems related to today’s filming fazed me at all.
When we’d finished watching, Jason and I lingered in the dark room with only the glow from the frozen picture on the screen.
“I honestly think Stars Collide is the best sitcom on TV,” he said. “I’m hooked on a lot of shows, but none of them has the heart and soul this one does.”
“Can I tell you a little secret?” I whispered.
“Sure.”
“I don’t watch a lot of fictional TV, and I’m clueless when it comes to other shows. I keep up with the ratings and all that, but I honestly couldn’t tell you who’s in those other shows or even what they’re about.”
He gave me a funny look. “No way. You direct one of the most popular sitcoms on TV. How could you not watch the competition?”
I sighed. “The truth is, I watch mostly reality stuff. Competitions. Home renovation shows. I like to see things . . .” There was really only one word. “Flipped.”
“Flipped?”
“Changed. Turned inside out. New leaf. Fresh start. I like shows where things—or people—start out one way and end up another. I’m a makeover-TV addict. I admit it.”
“I see.” He leaned a bit closer. “Is there a twelve-step program for this addiction?”
“In Hollywood? Probably. But I wouldn’t have time to attend the sessions. Besides, a little reality TV never hurt anyone.”
“Unless you happen to be the director of a non–reality show and need to stay on top of the competition.” He crossed his arms. “But I’m confused. Didn’t you direct a nighttime drama before you came to Stars Collide?”
“Yeah.”
“Give Me Liberty, right?”
“Yes. I’ll admit, I’ve directed other non–reality shows.”
“You just never watch them.”
I sighed.
He stared at me. “I used to love that show, by the way. Great exposé of life in the military. The stories were incredibly powerful . . . and the actors weren’t shabby either.” He paused. “Weren’t you up for an Emmy for that one too?”
You had to go there.
“Yeah. I didn’t win.”
“But you were nominated. That’s quite an honor.”
“Can we change the subject?”
“Sure.” His expression brightened. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know about nighttime dramas. Or sitcoms. Or cop shows. I’m pretty much hooked on three or four of those.”
“Not me. I grew up in South Central, you know. Every day was a real-life episode of a cop show. I watch TV to escape, which is why I watch reality TV.” After a pause, I added, “Guess I take after my mama when it comes to escapism. She’s been hooked on General Hospital since the seventies. No joke. She can tell you every character’s name, going back thirty-five years.”
“What’s the fascination?”
“I’m clueless. Those daytime dramas seem to drag the tiniest little things out for days. I truly don’t understand the method to their madness.”
“So your mom was inspired by soap operas. What did you watch as a kid?”
“Funny you should ask. I didn’t watch a lot of regular shows even back then. I mean, c’mon. My mother and father weren’t exactly Ozzie and Harriet. The Love Boat wasn’t sailing out of port anytime soon in our neck of the woods. And Beverly Hills, 90210 was just a TV show, not someplace I would ever live.”
“Ah.” He pursed his lips. “So you didn’t watch any sitcoms?”
“Just one. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.”
“Oh? You’re a Will Smith fan?”
“Well, yeah, that too. But the idea of picking up and moving from the inner city to Bel-Air? It held a lot of appeal for a kid from South Central. I always felt like I’d been born in the wrong world.”
“God knew what he was doing, dropping you into the heart of the city.”
I sighed. “Therein lies the rub. If I admit that God knew what he was doing by bringing me into this world in the projects, then he and I need to have a long discussion about the reasoning behind that decision.”
“So you’re saying God made a mistake?”
Ugh. Did we have to go there? Really?
“God doesn’t make mistakes,” Jason continued.
“Easy to say when you were raised in Newport Beach.” I slapped my hand over my mouth. Had I really just spoken those words out loud? Judging from the look on his face, yes.
“I don’t want to preach. But just consider this one thing: an upbringing in a fancy house doesn’t necessarily make for a happy life. And an upbringing in a home where you faced major struggles doesn’t mean you’ll have restrictions in life. How we end up . . . well, that’s up to us.”
“Right.” I chewed on his words for a minute.
“I’m sorry, Tia. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I guess you’ve figured out I’m pretty good at speaking my mind, whether people want to hear or not.”
“I like a person who speaks his mind.” I rose and walked to the light switch. Before I could turn it on, however, Jason’s hand stopped me. I turned to face him, curious.
“Before you do that . . .” He paused. “There’s something I want to tell you. I started to say it at the commissary before Lenora showed up.”
“Oh?”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. I could almost hear the wheels clicking in his head. “All my adult life, I’ve been told I have a good eye,” he said at last. “You said it downstairs less than an hour ago. That’s what I’m known for. Shooting great angles. Having great focus.” He paused again. “But sometimes my eyes deceive me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes I’m so busy with the narrow focus that I don’t see the bigger picture—what’s going on outside of the set, for instance. And sometimes I’m so distracted with what I see right in front of me that I don’t realize the angle’s wrong.”
I couldn’t figure out where he was going with this. “Are you admitting that you make mistakes?” I asked.
“Oh, I make mistakes every day, but some are bigger than others.” He drew closer. “I’ve been watching you out of the corner of my eye for nearly a year now, Tia, but you’ve deserved my full attention, not just a halfhearted glance.”
Not exactly a line our writers would’ve written, but it made perfect sense to me and had just the right romantic angle. Strangely, I could only manage a one-word response. “O-oh?”
He leaned in and stroked my cheek with his fingertip. “You came tearing in here, ready to take the world by storm. And I’ll admit, you got all of us riled up those first few weeks. You were hard as nails, but about the prettiest thing I’d ever laid eyes on. I called you the Spanish Spitfire.”
“You did?” I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped. “I’m pretty sure everyone hated me back then. Some more than others.” As I stared into his eyes, that butterfly sensation wriggled its way across my stomach.
In that moment, I saw a pain in his eyes I’d never noticed before. Not anger. Something else entirely. “You—you think I hated you?” He slipped his arm around my waist and drew me to him. “You really think that?”
“I—I . . .” Now I wasn’t sure what I thought.
“You’re the toughest woman I’ve ever met, I’ll give you that. Just because you’re good at whipping people into shape doesn’t mean I hate you. I . . . I respect you. I always have, right back to that first day.”
“You did . . . you do?” Suddenly I felt discombobulated.
“Of course. And yeah, we butt heads, but that’s because we’re so much alike. I was used to working with a more placid director. You . . .” He gazed into my eyes, drawing me so close that I felt the air shoot out of me. “You’re different.”
“So they tell me.” I couldn’t help the little laugh that followed.
“They’re right.”
He reached to brush a loose hair out of my face, and a shiver ran through me. What’s happening here?
“If I come across as angry to you, then it’s just misdirected emotions. Trust me, it’s not anger.”
“It—it’s not?” My heart started doing this strange twisting thing as he placed a couple of tender kisses on my forehead. Surely I must be imagining all of this. I gazed up into those beautiful eyes and sighed. “You’re making it hard for me to be mad at you right now.”
“Good. Because frankly, I’m tired of pretending like we’re always mad at each other when we’re really something else altogether.”
“We—we are?” I never had a chance to say anything else because his lips blocked the way. Within seconds I found myself on the receiving end of the world’s most passionate kiss. A spine-tingling, heart-throbbing, weak-in-the-knees kiss that would’ve made our sitcom stars swoon.
Talk about a shocker. In my thirty years on Planet Earth, I’d never experienced a kiss like this. Directed one—sure. Experienced one—never. As the kiss lingered, I sensed every emotion he’d been holding inside. Every question I’d ever had about Jason Harris was answered. In that moment, a thousand thoughts went through my head, none of which had anything to do with Stars Collide. He had me completely off-kilter, and I was loving every minute of it.
One of Mama’s favorite phrases ran through my mind: A la ocasion la pintan calva. “Strike while the iron is hot.”
The iron was hot, all right. And if I’d had any doubt in my mind, the kiss that followed only added more fuel to the fire. Yes, things were definitely heating up on the Stars Collide set, and I couldn’t help but think the best was yet to come.