answered, But you’re my emergency contact, Birdie. And this IS an emergency, a traffic emergency.
He’s become a sharp, annoying, piercing thorn in my side.
And Grass Roots’s filming schedule consists of two straight months of shooting in LA and Memphis. Which means two straight months of seeing Andrew Watson just about every single day, so not only can he send me annoying texts, he’ll be able to tell me annoying things in person.
Heavens to Betsy, I hope I can manage to survive. I imagine Birdie’s Mental Health Company policy is going to see many an addendum in that time. If not, it’ll only be because I’ve completely forgotten about this coping mechanism and moved on to another.
“Before we begin the script read-through, I’d like to update everyone on a few things,” Howie continues, but then pauses when someone on the crew grabs his attention from the other side of the room. “Shit. Sorry. Give me ten minutes, guys. I’ll be right back.”
Without hesitation or response from the group, he’s up and out of his chair, leaving the long table and the room.
I decide to use my time wisely and read through my script for what has to be the one-thousandth time, but before I can even get to page two, my phone vibrates on the table, and I turn it screen-side up to find a text message notification.
Andrew: There’s no need to be tense, sweetheart.
Ugh. Here we go…
I consider ignoring him, but I know him well enough to know he wouldn’t take to it well. I imagine Satan himself is where the phrasing “demon texting” comes from anyway.
Me: I’m not tense.
Obviously, I am tense, but I don’t want to give this bastard anything to work off of. I feel like he gets some kind of sick thrill out of seeing me at emotional extremes, so I keep it simple.
Andrew: Your hands are shaking.
I lift my eyes from the screen of my phone to find him grinning at me, and I flash a glare his way before typing out a response.
Me: My blood sugar is probably low. I didn’t have time to eat breakfast.
Andrew: Oh, okay. I guess the doughnut I saw you eating twenty minutes ago was just a snack, then? ;)
Me: Geez Louise. What are you running for, DA? Is your platform Food Reform?
Andrew: I’d make a hell of a DA, but no. I’m not running. And I only noticed the doughnut because you were the one eating it.
Okay, what’s that supposed to mean? He doesn’t give me time to question it before moving on.
Andrew: The script read-through is just that…a read-through. There isn’t any pressure right now.
I look up at him again, and he shrugs his shoulder.
Andrew: You’d have to be illiterate to fuck up the read-through.
Me: Good to know.
Okay…so, maybe working with him isn’t going to be so bad? Maybe he’s going to drop the whole asshole routine and be nice?
When another message vibrates my phone, I look down at the screen.
Andrew: But later today, when we’re shooting the first scene, that’s a whole different story. There will be pressure, and you can fuck that up.
All hope I had for him not being a narcissistic ass flies straight out the damn window.
Me: Has anyone ever told you that you’re a self-serving, egotistical, shitbag, jerkface asshole?
Andrew: I can’t say I’ve ever heard those exact words.
Me: Well, now you have.
He meets my eyes and bites his lip. My gaze flees the trap immediately. I will not get lost in fantasies about Andrew Watson’s lips, goddammit.
Andrew: So, I’m a shitbag jerkface?
It’s my turn to shrug my shoulders.
Me: If the shoe fits.
Andrew: Is shitbag jerkface a size 13?
Me: What?
Andrew: I’m a size 13, sweetheart. I’ll only wear the shoe if it doesn’t crunch up my toes. I really hate that.
No. Don’t do it, I chastise myself. Do not think about what a big shoe size can possibly mean for a man. Do. Not. Do. It.
Me: Wow. Congratulations on your giant clown feet.
Andrew: Thank you. I appreciate the compliment.
Me: It wasn’t a compliment.
Andrew: I’m pretty sure it was. Sounds like you like a man with big feet. Probably because it means he’s big…in other places.
I lift my gaze from my phone to narrow my eyes at him, and my hands vibrate with another text.
Andrew: Like, good fortune and intelligence and fun. Did you think I meant something else, sweetheart?