The Director's Cut (22 page)

Jason chuckled. “I can't believe you were worried about that. How could I possibly blame you for something one of your siblings did?”

Whoa. Why those words hit me so hard, I couldn't be sure. All my life I'd taken the blame—or would that be shame?—for the things my siblings had done. And now here stood a man telling me I didn't have to do that anymore. Quite a revelation.

“I've spent most of my adult life making apologies for things my family members have done. And I've gone overboard trying to make things better for all of them.” I gave a little shrug. “I've always wanted things to get better.”

“Maybe they will.”

“I used to hope for it all the time. Every time my dad would come back home, I'd get my hopes up again. And then they would be dashed. So maybe I'm just jaded.”

“This is Hollywood, Tia. Everyone is jaded.” He gave me a little kiss on the cheek, and I didn't even mind that the rest of the crew was looking on. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” I tugged at my collar, hoping the movement of my shirt against my back would help the itching.

“You wish you knew what was coming next with your parents, don't you?”

“Well, yeah. It would be nice.”

“Are you saying you wish you could see into the future?”

Interesting question. “I don't know. I mean, no, I don't. Or yes, I do.” I groaned. “I'm glad I can't see what's coming tomorrow, because what if I didn't like what I saw? It's probably a blessing that I don't know the bad stuff. But there would be a certain sense of security in knowing the hard things—the things I'm unsure about—were going to work out okay. Is that so bad?”

“Just one more question.”

I shrugged. “What's that?”

“If you got your wish and could see that everything was going to work out, why would you need to have faith?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, there would be no need for faith at all if you already knew the outcome.”

“Ah.” I took a few steps toward my director's chair and sat down. “Never really thought about that. I'm just always thinking like a director. You know? A director
always
knows what's coming next. All I have to do is flip the page and read the dialogue and narrative. And if I don't like what I see, I send the script back for a rewrite.”

“Tia . . .” He took my hand. “You can't send the script of your life back.”

“I know.” A lingering sigh followed. “That's the problem, don't you see?”

“I see one thing, Tia. I see a girl who's wrestling with letting go of the reins. And I don't claim to have a lot of expertise in this area, but I do know that it's always better to take your hands off of situations that aren't yours to control. Whether it's stuff to do with your family or things in your personal life, you've got to let go and admit you're not supposed to be the one directing the show.”

“Mama and I were just talking about this. She says I've been a fixer ever since I was a little girl.” I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing the itching sensation was finally subsiding.

“So it's going to be harder for you than most people. I get that.” He gave me the sweetest smile. “But I can tell you, based on personal experience, that letting go—really letting go—will change your life.”

At this point we stopped talking for a couple minutes while others—mainly Scott and Lenora—passed by. We said our good mornings, Jason commented on Lenora's costume of the day, and then I looked back at him.

“Sometimes I think it would be easier to be like Lenora, to have no memory of the things that happened yesterday.”

“Tia, you don't mean that.”

I bit my lip. “If you can't remember the horrible things that happened yesterday, then they can't hurt you.”

“Okay, I'll admit that's true. But the past is what makes us who we are. It shapes our character.”

“I feel overshaped.”

He gave me a playful look. “I'm not going to respond, on the grounds that it could incriminate me.”

His words lightened the mood.

“Promise me one thing, Tia.” He gave my hand a squeeze.

“Sure. What's that?”

“When the weather warms up, you'll go surfing with me.”

“S-surfing?” Was he kidding? I'd kill myself.

“Remember what we talked about that day in Scott and Kat's kitchen? About the feeling of freedom you get when you're surfing?”

“Well, sure, but we were just talking. Talking about it and doing it are two different things.”

“Exactly my point. I want you to experience what it feels like to let go. To really, truly let go and just ride the wave. Let it take you where you need to be.”

“I don't know, Jason.” I stood and took a couple of steps away from him. “I would be so afraid—”

“Exactly.” He grabbed my hand. “On the water, you have to admit your fear and give it up—all at the same time. It's a great rehearsal for life, Tia. And I promise you'll love it.”

“You think?”

“I know. And you'll thank me later.”

“You obviously haven't figured out what a control freak I am.”

“Yes I have. But I see something else. I see a girl who's capable of forgiving and moving forward.”

His words boosted my confidence, though that part where he agreed that I was a control freak did sting a little. “Hey, speaking of forgiveness . . .” I looked across the studio and saw that Benita had entered. “There's one more thing I have to take care of before we start the roundtable reading.”

My heart felt heavy as I saw the sour expression on Benita's face. How many times would it come back to this? Were the two of us really going to be at odds—again?

Not if I could help it. While I didn't agree with what she'd done, I had to be the bigger person. Lead by example. Use a more laid-back approach.

Turning in her direction, I made up my mind to do just that.

After drawing a deep breath and ushering up a quick, silent prayer, I walked over to my sister and asked if I could speak with her alone. She looked like a nervous wreck as she followed me into the hallway. I grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Beni, there's something I need to say.”

Before I could utter a word, her eyes filled with tears and she put her hand up. “Tia, don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Apologize.”

Actually, I hadn't planned to apologize this time. I'd just wanted to break the ice so we could get on with the day without all of the tension.

She sniffled. “I know what you're going to say, and you're right.”

“I am?”

“I was flirting with Jason on Friday night. I admit it. He's a great-looking guy.” She sighed. “You know my problem, Tia. I can't seem to help myself around hot guys. I can't.”

“You can try.”

“I should.” She spoke the words as if this were the first time she'd considered that option. “Maybe I will.”

“Beni, you know I love you, right?”

“Yeah. So why do I have the feeling you're about to chew me out?”

“I'm not going to chew you out. I'm just going to tell you something that came to me when I was praying for you last night.”

“Wait. You were praying for me last night?” Her mouth rounded in a perfect O.

“Yes. Before bed. Anyway, it occurred to me that maybe the reason you're so drawn to guys is because you're trying to fill some sort of hole inside of you.”

“Hole?”

“It's just a thought. After all the stuff Dad has put us through, I thought maybe you were looking for some sort of validation from men that you have value, since Dad never stuck around long enough to offer any.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she quickly brushed them away. “I never really thought about it. I just thought . . .” She shrugged. “I just like flirting.”

Clearly.

“I know, but you've got to remember how pretty you are.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks turned pink.

“I'm just saying it makes it harder for the guy to resist when the girl is a knockout. And it's not fair to the guy's heart either. Sometimes innocent people get hurt.”

“Like Bob.” She sighed.

“Yeah.” I glanced across the studio and caught a glimpse of Bob standing with Paul and Stephen. “He's a great guy who deserves someone's full attention.”

“He is pretty great. I think maybe I took advantage of his kindness.”

You think?

“What happened after I left with Julio the other night? Did Bob cry?”

“Cry? No. He ate some flan, drank two cups of coffee, hung out with us for a while, had a few laughs, and then went home.” I paused. “See? That's the great thing about Bob. He's easygoing and very forgiving. I've seen him get his feelings hurt by some of the cast members, and he always has a more humorous way of reacting. So even if he's hurt, I'm pretty sure he'll get over it. You two will probably be friends for years to come.”

“I hope so.” She bit her lip as she looked his way. “Because he's a really great guy.” A pause followed, then she turned back toward me. “And just for the record, Julio's not that into me.”

“He's not?”

She shook her head. “I couldn't believe it, but after we left the house the other night, we didn't go to a movie or anything. He spent the whole time talking about insurance rates and cars and stuff. It was so boring.”

She glanced at Bob once more, then back at me.

“What's wrong, Beni?”

“Tia, do you think Bob is handsome?”

“I've loved Bob from the minute I met him. He's a great guy and an even better writer.”

“Yeah, but that's not what I asked. I asked if you thought he was handsome.”

I paused to think about it. Bob wasn't Hollywood hot, but he was relatively nice-looking. One of those boy-next-door types. Kind of a paunchy middle and thinning hair. But I'd never really considered his looks before. “I think he's a nice-looking guy.” I shrugged. “Why?”

“I don't know.” She paced the room, finally pausing to look my way. “Maybe I've been a little mixed up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I've only ever looked at the really handsome guys.”

“Like Julio?”

“Yeah. And you have to admit, they're fun to look at. But I'm starting to think . . .” She sighed.

“What?”

“Starting to think they're just superficial.”

Whoa. Open up the earth and swallow me whole. For my sister—the one who couldn't even go out to check the mail without makeup on—to be having this revelation was truly shocking.

“Handsome is good, but I got to thinking . . . if I marry a really handsome guy, I'll always have to worry that some other woman will be trying to tear him away from me.”

“In other words, you'll be like Mama?” I asked.

“Yeah. Never thought about that before.” She leaned in close. “Have you seen pictures of Daddy when they first got married?”

“Yeah.”

“Tia, it's kind of weird, but he looked a lot like Julio looks now. Tall, dark, and handsome. And I know he's still handsome—for a fifty-something—but see the price Mama's had to pay?”

“What are you saying, Beni? You suddenly want to marry an ugly man?”

“No, not an ugly man. But someone in between. Someone like . . .” The edges of her lips curled up in a smile. “Someone like Bob.”

“You want to marry Bob?”

“Well, maybe not today. Or in a week. But I'd like to have a guy like that—one who makes me laugh, and who flatters me not just so I'll turn around and talk about how pretty he is too. If that makes sense.”

“You don't want a pretty boy.”

“Right.”

“You want Bob.”

She groaned. “I know. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? And I know what you're thinking: ‘Poor Beni, she's so fickle.' ”

Um, yeah.

“Maybe I am. But . . .” A little sigh erupted. “I only know how I feel when he's around. I could hang out in his office all day and just watch him work. He cracks me up. Makes me laugh. Makes me feel like I'm really smart and funny.”

A new resolve took hold as I responded. “You asked me if I think Bob is handsome. I'd have to say yes. Because he's good inside and out. Remember how Mama used to say ‘pretty is as pretty does'?”

“Mama never said that.” Benita laughed. “Just the opposite, in fact.”

“Well, you've heard the expression, anyway.” I paused to think through my next words. “When someone is really good on the inside—especially someone who radiates joy like Bob does—there's a certain sheen on the outside too. I guess what I'm saying is a good heart equals handsomeness to me. When a guy has a great heart, I can't see beyond it to the color of his eyes or hair, or how muscular he is.”

“You're totally making that up. Jason Harris is handsome outside and inside.”

“Okay, maybe I'm still aware of those things, but they don't matter so much to me. I'd rather have an average-looking guy with an amazing heart for the Lord than have the handsomest guy in the city who sees nothing but himself. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense, actually.” Benita's eyes got a little misty. “I've worked so hard to make myself beautiful on the outside, Tia. It scares me to think about how un-pretty I am on the inside.”

“No, you're beautiful inside and out.”

Her smile radiated a newfound innocence.

I glanced at the clock, stunned by the time. “We have to get going.” I gave her a quick hug, then realized I still had something left to share. “Oh, one more thing. You know that whole thing about someone going to the tabloids with the name of the baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I found out that Lenora was the one who leaked the info to the media.”

Benita's eyes widened. “No way.”

“Yeah. We can't blame her, though. She doesn't realize what she's doing. I'm sure you've figured out by now that she's got Alzheimer's.”

“I wasn't sure that's what it was, but I definitely knew something was up. The other day when I was putting on her makeup, she told me her new grandbaby's name was Anne with an
e
.”

“Yeah, I heard that one too.” I gazed into Benita's eyes. “Beni, I know I already apologized for this, but I'm really sorry for even suggesting it might've been you.”

She groaned. “Tia, I never claimed to be a saint. I . . .” She shrugged. “The reason I knee-jerked like I did was because I felt guilty.”

“Guilty? Why?”

“Because I told Julio the baby's name. That first night I met him, I mean.”

“You did?” I couldn't believe it.

“Yeah. I don't know if he told anyone or not, but I shared private information with him,” she said. “But to my credit, I didn't realize it was private till after the fact. No one actually made it clear to me that the scripts for upcoming episodes were secret until that day you and I talked. I was too scared to tell you because . . .” She sighed. “I'm such a screwup.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I can't even keep a job. I'm so . . . fickle. And I mess up everything, Tia. I'll never be like you.”

“You don't want to be. For your information, I'm the biggest screwup there is.”

She laughed. “We're a mess, aren't we? I can't even compliment you without you feeling bad. Do you think we'll ever get past all of this?”

“Yes. And I think it's going to be sooner rather than later.”

“Good.” She grinned, and for a moment, I saw the little sister I'd known in junior high—the one who liked to entertain me with her stories about how perfect life would one day be for the two of us. “Let's make a pact that we'll both be quick to admit our flaws, okay?”

“I'll do my best.”

The itching kicked in again, and I turned, asking her to scratch my back. As she did, I told her about my visit to the allergist.

“Oh, Tia, you're allergic to Angel?”

“Mm-hmm.” I nodded. “A little to the left, please.”

She continued to scratch. “What are you gonna tell Mama?”

“I have no idea. I just know that I'll be on allergy meds the next time I come over, so if I'm talking like a drunken sailor, you'll know why.”

Benita laughed. “Now
that
I would pay money to see.”

I gave her a hug, and then we headed into the conference room. I felt like I'd lost ten pounds. The tightness in my shoulders had lifted. Something about getting through this situation with Benita had proven once and for all that coolheaded reactions really could dictate healthier, happier outcomes.

Jason met me at the door of the conference room, all smiles. “Ready to roll?”

“Yep.” I smiled. “I have a feeling things are only going to get better from here.”

“Oh, I do hope so,” Lenora said as she came in. “It's about time things got better. It seems like I always get the fuzzy end of the lollipop.”

I paused, unsure of her meaning. Then Jason snapped his fingers and said, “
Some Like It Hot
. 1958.”

“That would be 1959, young man,” she said with a wink. “Why, has anyone ever told you that you look just like Tony Curtis? He was in that movie, you know.”

“Jamie Lee's father,” Jason said with a nod.

“Ah, yes. I was there when that beautiful little girl was born.” Lenora sighed. “But anyway, Tony, I would be so grateful if you would sit next to me at the . . . ” She looked around the conference room. “What are we here for again?”

“Roundtable reading,” Jason said, looping her arm through his.

“Yes, the roundtable reading. Though I've always wondered why they call it that. This table isn't round. It's rectangular.”

She began to tell a story about the day Jamie Lee Curtis was born. I had no way of knowing if she'd ever met Jamie Lee, but I did know one thing—the man seated next to her at this moment was very much a star. And I was one lucky girl to have lassoed him.