Her eyes soften before she makes fun of herself. “You like that I’m a freak who gets excited about natural disasters?”
I laugh again. “People around here kind of have a reputation for getting excited about hurricanes. We’ve even named a daiquiri after them.” Despite the laughing, we’re speaking in low tones. I don’t think it matters, though, Ramon and Sally are deep in their own conversation.
“So I’ve heard,” she says, looking a little relieved.
“And every time there’s a storm, people throw hurricane parties.” I force a disapproving frown. “Not that I endorse those.”
This time she laughs. Mission accomplished.
“If there’s a hurricane,” she says with mock seriousness. “I promise I won’t accept any party invitations.”
If there’s a hurricane, I’m suddenly certain, I won’t want her out of my sight.
She narrows her gaze at me. “There you go, looking all serious and somber again. I think I failed at trying to cheer you up.”
I want to tell her that I feel a lot better now than I did this morning. Being with her always makes me feel better. I just want more of it.
“What can I do?” she asks, her gaze sincere.
Instead of pulling her in to kiss her like I want to, I force a smile. “How about learning the last part of this routine?”
Chapter Twenty
IRIS
On Thursday, the National Weather Service narrows Tropical Storm Addie’s projected path to south central Louisiana. Pretty much right where we are. It’s predicted to reach hurricane strength by Friday night and make landfall Saturday night as a Category 1 or 2.
That’s not too bad, right?
At least, this is what I’m thinking Thursday afternoon when the studio cancels filming for Friday and instructs everyone to “follow the advisories of the local authorities” and “do whatever is necessary to prepare for the storm.”
And it’s their disassociation with liability that makes me a little nervous. That and the fact that communities along the coast have issued a mandatory evacuation in anticipation of a storm surge.
Evacuation? Should I be thinking about that?
I ask a few people on set, but no one I talk to is from Louisiana, and most of them are distracted because Jonathan wants us to get further along in the scene than scheduled tonight because of tomorrow’s cancellation.
We only break long enough for me to get word to Ramon to cancel dance lessons and figure out what doing “whatever is necessary to prepare for the storm” actually means. In the two minutes we talk, I notice that the lines around his mouth are tense and his eyes are shuttered.
He’s nervous. I don’t blame him.
I wish I could check in with local news stations myself and figure out how bad it’s supposed to be, but Jonathan has a rule about no phones on set. Mine is in the trailer. I’m about to ask Ramon to do some digging for me and brief me on our next break when Moira bulldozes our conversation.
“We need to talk,” she says, grabbing me by the elbow and dragging me away from Ramon. She pulls me from the glow of the set into the shadows that surround the sound stage.
When she speaks, it’s in a hissed whisper. “Have you made any progress on the front we discussed a couple of weeks ago?”
Moira and I have discussed countless items in the last few weeks. A commercial campaign for a national car rental chain. A booking to appear on Jimmy Kimmel Live! Analytics about my Insta posts. The list goes on. But I know without asking what she’s referring to.
Still, I pretend ignorance. “What do you mean?”
The look she gives me could fry bacon. To a crisp. “You know what I’m talking about.” She slides her jaw from left to right, giving me a speaking glare. “Improving relations with management.”
I’ll be honest. I am a coward. This is a well-established fact. I’m not a fan of confrontation, and I don’t enjoy disappointing people. Especially Moira. But what she’s asking makes my skin crawl.
I can’t bring myself to flirt with my director.
I haven’t even tried. Acting is one thing. Faking is another.
But I also haven’t told her that I can’t—and won’t—do it.
So I equivocate. “I think Jonathan and I have a good working relationship, but I don’t see it ever being more than that,” I say, forcing my chin up to mimic some self-respect.
She expels a frustrated breath. “Because you haven’t tried. This storm is the perfect opportunity. You should just mention to him that you don’t want to be