Chapter Eighteen
As Isabel drove home from Taylor’s that Sunday night, her hands shook. She felt the tightening of her jaw and her thoughts raced. She thought back to the day before and their conversation. She’d downplayed her answers about the attacks. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Taylor what a large part she played in their manifestations. Was still playing, Isabel realized as she gripped the steering wheel with all her might. It seemed like the more time they spent together, the stronger their relationship grew, and the more out of control Isabel’s anxiety ran.
She didn’t get out of her car when she arrived in the Seven Shores lot. She couldn’t seem to leave the safety of its interior. Half an hour passed. An hour. She swallowed and held on to the steering wheel. It was cold enough that she could see her breath, and she shivered slightly.
“You’re doing fine,” she whispered.
“Isabel? That you?” A knock. “Hey, you okay in there?” She glanced sideways to see Autumn staring at her through the window. She managed a slight nod. Autumn wasn’t satisfied. “Open up, okay?”
It took a great deal of mental fortitude, but Isabel managed to let go of the steering wheel to crack the car door.
Autumn opened it the rest of the way. Her voice softened when she got a look at Isabel. “Hey, there. You don’t look so good.”
Isabel couldn’t disagree. “Long day,” she managed to say. She attempted a smile but didn’t quite succeed.
“Let me walk you in.”
Isabel nodded and accepted Autumn’s hand. She appreciated the warmth it brought along with her supportive gaze. She didn’t look at Isabel with pity or shock or horror, just kindness. They took it slow up the walk, one step at a time. Autumn seeming to get it was what she needed.
“Thanks,” Isabel said, once Autumn helped her into her apartment. “I just need sleep.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Starved for it.” She heard her own voice, clipped and unusual sounding, but there wasn’t much she could do to change it.
Autumn nodded. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
Isabel rolled her shoulders, begging the tension to leave them. “Will do.” With a final concerned glance, Autumn left the apartment.
Embarrassed and alone, Isabel took a seat on the floor until the world came back into focus. She couldn’t live this way. She had to find a way to rid herself of this hell once and for all. The question was how.
*****
For Taylor, Monday morning hit like a breath of fresh air. Birds chirped, people waved at one another, and the world felt full and boisterous. After a fantastic weekend, Taylor was back on her own show, and it felt good.
There would be no running back and forth between shows. No hearing about decisions on Water secondhand because she’d handed over the reins to someone else. Nope. She was back in control and ready to go.
When she arrived at her desk and saw her Pajamas coffee front and center, she smiled and took a healthy sip, letting the fantastic brew work its magic as she thought about the beautiful woman who’d left it for her. Raisin had hopped up on her couch and quickly took his favorite spot on the cushion to the left where he could prop his chin up on the armrest and watch the door. He was a people watcher. Taylor was pretty sure it was a trait she’d passed on to him.
“Hey, Scar,” she called. “Did we ever get final notes on episode 519 from Tim Rossi? He’s directing this week.” Good thing, too. Tim was one of their regulars, a consummate pro who knew the show inside and out. He would make the week an easy one for everyone.
“I forwarded them your way moments ago.”
“Awesome. I’m on it.” She opened the email and scanned Tim’s notes, which would help her understand how their creative visions overlapped or in some cases, perhaps, didn’t. This was the confrontation episode in which Lisette’s younger sister stumbles upon evidence of the affair. The episode belonged to Kathleen, though she’d be in and out—her husband was undergoing a minor heart procedure that week—so they’d all be pitching in to usher the episode along in her absence.
Scarlett’s head swiveled around her door, and Taylor smiled gleefully at the prairie dog imagery she’d missed so very much. “Hey, Taylor?”
“Yep?”
“If I haven’t said it enough, I’m really glad you’re back.”
Taylor took a fortifying breath and grinned. She’d missed Scarlett desperately herself. “Me too. Let’s shoot a killer episode this week to commemorate.”
Scarlett winked. “Deal.”
Only the week didn’t go as smoothly as she’d planned.
After a table read the next day panicked the art department, concerned wardrobe, and set off a neurotic actor, Taylor found herself putting out fires rather than making any forward motion on the week. What was worse, apparently, Tim Rossi had run into a handful of problems on set with, wouldn’t you know it, Aspen Wakefield, lead actress and drama queen extraordinaire. It was a situation she’d need to keep an eye on.
That Wednesday afternoon, Taylor sat with her line producer, trying to figure out how they could afford the tiniest bit of rain for a pivotal scene to shoot two weeks from now. “I know I outlawed rain,” she told Emily Tanner, who crunched numbers and made things happen for Taylor on a weekly basis, “but if there’s any way we can undo that directive and drum up the funds for the tiniest bit, I will owe you big time. I will happily accept a drizzle.”
Emily sighed. “You realize I’m not a miracle worker?”
“I do. But I also know that you’re the best in the business.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re doing that flattery thing you always do.”
Taylor grinned. “Is it working?” Her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket, and she checked the readout. You need to get to set, the text from Scarlett read. Tim is threatening to walk and Aspen is demanding your presence.
Well, well, well. When it rained, it poured.
“Emily, I have to run, but I will leave this matter in your capable, and let me just remind you, genius hands.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Emily said wearily and went back to her laptop with the weight of the weather on her shoulders.
When Taylor arrived at Stage 9, the first thing she noticed was that the working set, Lisette’s home, was eerily quiet, and not because they were rolling. Aspen’s script lay on the kitchen counter and she stood over it studying lines. Claudia, the actress who played Lisette’s younger sister, sat at a kitchen table and shot Taylor a “don’t blame me” look as she approached. Tim, the director, spoke quietly to a camera operator, and a gaggle of production assistants stood around looking shell-shocked and nervous, only attempting to look busy when they noticed her presence. The tension hung thick and imposing.
“What’s going on?” Taylor asked Tim. “I heard there was a disagreement.”
He nodded and walked her outside of the soundstage and onto the sidewalk, where she squinted up at him, shielding her eyes from the insistent sunlight. “I asked Aspen to take it down on the next take so that I had options in editing. This is an important argument we’re shooting between the sisters, but we have a lot left in the episode and she’s got nowhere to go with those kind of levels, and honestly it was reading like a melodramatic soap opera. It’s my job to rein that the fuck in.”
Taylor nodded. “Right. Okay. Makes sense.”
“And she told me that she knew the character inside and out and that she was playing the scene the way it needed to be played or some other such nonsense.” Taylor had heard that line from Aspen before. It was her go-to excuse to get in front of any creative decision she didn’t agree with.
“And then what happened?”
“I told her to just do it once for me. We’d get the take and move on.”
“And she didn’t like that?”
“She folded her arms like a princess and said no. I called her that, a princess, and she told me to go fuck myself. I told her she could go to hell, she demanded to see you on set, and here you are. That’s what’s happening.”
Taylor sighed deeply and forced a smile, knowing she was about to go to battle and it wasn’t going to be pretty. The most important thing was to not lose time, as that meant money. “I’ll talk to her. Thank you, Tim.”
“Yep. I’m gonna grab a smoke.”
Taylor took a breath and headed back to set in search of Aspen. She found her chatting with Claudia at craft services as if nothing had happened, serene, innocent smile firmly in place.
“Aspen, hey,” Taylor said, as if approaching a bear that could claw her eyes out at any moment. Aspen had been distant since she’d started seeing Isabel officially. They spoke in regard to the show, but the last personal conversation they’d had was on Taylor’s porch the morning she’d encountered Isabel there. She’d said very little to Taylor that morning after Isabel drove away, but the piercing glare had told her everything she needed to know on the subject. Aspen was angry, and the likelihood of her lashing out at Taylor the way she had Tim was high. Her goal was to defuse any and all hostilities right off the bat.
“Taylor,” she said as if surprised to see her there, when she was the one who, in fact, had summoned her. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Taylor sent her a knowing look because she honestly couldn’t help herself. She forced herself to brighten. “Can I steal you for a moment?”
“Back in a few,” Aspen said to Claudia and then waved her fingers over her shoulder as she walked. Once they were alone in a darkened corner of the soundstage, behind the set, Taylor turned to her.
“Sounds like there was some trouble on set. Want to tell me about it?” She was aiming for caring friend and concerned boss all in one. That generally scored well with Aspen.
“Yes,” she said, her eyes now ice cold. “I want him removed from the episode.”
Taylor hooked a thumb behind her. “Tim? Who’s won six Emmys and is one of the best directors we have working on the show?”
“He’s an overrated asshole, too big for his britches.” She ran a hand through her luxurious hair, that somehow always magically fell back into place perfectly. Taylor used to love the effect. Now it just creeped her out. “He goes or I do.”
Taylor hated ultimatums. They made the person making them seem threatened and childish, not that she could tell Aspen that. “You have a contract, Aspen. That’s not an option.” Taylor took a moment to regroup, find her Aspen skills, which had dulled since she’d been off set for so many weeks. “You and I both know that you value your professionalism as an actor immensely.”
“No, you and I don’t,” Aspen said, her eyes blazing. “Don’t say you and I in the same sentence ever again.” She leaned in close, her face red and determined. “Get Rossi out of here or find a way to shoot around me this episode, because I won’t work with him.”
In a huff, she turned to go. Instinctively, Taylor reached for her arm. “Aspen, wait. I promise, we can solve this.”
Aspen’s gaze flew to Taylor’s hand on her arm. “Did you just grab me?”
“What?” Taylor instantly pulled her hand back. “No, I was just—”
“I can’t believe you did that!” Aspen rubbed the spot where Taylor had barely touched her. “Ow! That’s going to leave a mark. You just viciously grabbed me on my own set. I knew you were passionate about the show, but you just crossed a line. I won’t put up with physical violence.”
The insinuation was ludicrous, but it was like Taylor’s mind couldn’t keep up with the pace Aspen was setting.
“Did you see her grab me?” Aspen asked a nearby grip, wrapping cable. He glanced away, but Aspen was on him instantly. “What’s your name? You saw the whole assault.”
“Kip. But I don’t want to—”
“Aspen, stop it,” Taylor whispered, trying to keep the escalating scene under control. Interested faces were starting to turn their way. “Can we not do this? I’m sorry I reached for you.”
“You lunged and grabbed me, holding me against my will.” She again rubbed the arm that now hung limp and lifeless at her side as if broken in several places. Her face was pouty and there were tears gathering bountiful and thick in her eyes. She’d sailed from outraged to victimized over the course of twenty seconds in a move that had Taylor stunned and afraid. Where Aspen was concerned, anything was possible. Taylor stepped toward her in attempt to calm her down, get her to come back to reality. “Let’s just talk about this for a minute before—”
“Don’t come near me!” Aspen yelled, taking a large step away from Taylor and holding her “good arm” in front of her in defense. There were now people gathered on either side of them with more walking around the perimeter of the set to see what all the commotion was about.
Luke, who’d just arrived to shoot an upcoming scene, stepped forward and said something quietly in Aspen’s ear. She nodded and he led her away, probably to her trailer. “Everyone saw that, right?” Aspen yelled over her shoulder. She pointed at Taylor. “She grabbed me violently and wouldn’t let go! Everyone saw.”
Taylor held her ground, her brain not quite sure what to do. She glanced around at the myriad of shocked faces all trained on her. She couldn’t react, and it would seem lame to defend herself to the people who worked for her, yet she had to say something. “I apologize for that misunderstanding. We’ll get everything under control shortly.” She turned to the first AD. “In the meantime, can we powwow privately and maybe see what we can reschedule, so as not to lose the day?”
He nodded, but it was clear the incident had him flustered. “Of course, Ms. Andrews. Let me grab my—sure.”
But it felt like a fire alarm had been pulled and Taylor wasn’t sure how to unpull it. Aspen left for the day, shutting down most of their shooting options, and was rumored to still be muttering about the unprofessional director and the abuse she suffered at the hands of a maniacal showrunner. Perfect. Taylor remained on set for the rest of the day, just to smooth things over and let everyone see that it was business as usual. Underneath it all though, she wondered about the larger implication of the run-in. For the show. For her. For everything they’d worked for over the past five years.
*****
“She thinks you assaulted her?” Isabel asked in horror. It was dark as they walked a lap around the studio lot, a relaxing practice they’d taken up every few nights.
“It was wild,” Taylor said. “She lost her temper and pointed and accused. I barely touched her, Iz. But you’d have thought I maimed her for life.”
“I believe you. Do you think this happened because of us?”
Taylor seemed pensive and took a moment before answering. “I can’t think of any other reason. She pulled back all her attention that morning after my party. I thought it was a good thing, that she’d moved on. But maybe she’s just been seething and letting her anger build. I don’t have a good gauge of her state of mind. The problem is, she holds too many cards. The show is entirely dependent on her, and she knows it. Now she’s playing her hand.”
“Sounds like she has a chip on that perfect shoulder of hers and is hell-bent on making you pay the price.” They looped around the Coffee Bean, now closed for the evening, and headed over to Lucy’s park. They nodded at a security guard who whizzed by in a golf cart, but the conversation trailed off and they walked in heavy silence. Isabel could tell that Taylor had taken the events of the day hard. People thought the world of her on set, and she wouldn’t want that reputation tarnished. “I wish I had the magic words to make today better. What can I do?”
Taylor glanced over at her, then away. “You just being here with me right now, supporting me, makes a big difference.” She followed up the statement by taking Isabel’s hand and offering it a squeeze.
“Yeah, well. I will always support you.”
“That means a lot.” She met Isabel’s eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not better company tonight.”
“I don’t need you to be,” Isabel said. “We can just walk together.” Taylor nodded and they did just that. Walked. Maybe the exercise would help, the fresh air and the studio lot that Taylor loved so much. But the sides of Taylor’s mouth were turned down in a way Isabel had never seen, and it sat uncomfortably on her heart. They walked south down Avenue A, and before long, they were at their cars.
“Tomorrow will be better,” Isabel said. Taylor nodded but didn’t say anything. “Want me to come home with you?”
Taylor forced a smile. “Thank you, but I think I need to decompress on my own for a bit.”
For whatever reason, the rejection hit her harder than it should have. Taylor had a bad day and needed some alone time. Totally normal. Except that Isabel was once again experiencing that ever-present vulnerability that said she wasn’t good enough, which was stupid but real. Sometimes she hated herself and the way her brain worked to sabotage her. She shook it off.
“Okay, well, call me if you change your mind or just want to talk.”
“I will.”
“Taylor Andrews,” said a man exiting the car next to Taylor’s.
“Yes.”
He handed her an envelope. “Ma’am, you have thirty days to answer the complaint with the summons. Please understand that these are official court documents. You’ve been served. Have a good day.” He nodded his head and returned to his car as Taylor, looking about as stunned as Isabel felt, stared down at the envelope.
“What the hell?” she asked.
“Is he a process server?” Isabel whirled on the car and knocked on his window. “Are you a process server?”
He nodded. Once she stepped back, he pulled away, leaving them alone under the night’s sky with the sound of his engine revving in the distance.
Taylor fumbled with the seal and managed to extract the documents inside. She glanced over them, then raised her gaze. Her eyes carried an anger Isabel hadn’t witnessed from the levelheaded, generally serene Taylor.
“What does it say?” Isabel finally asked, unable to stand it a moment longer.
“I’m being sued. By Aspen Wakefield.”
“For what?”
“Sexual harassment.”
Oh, hell no. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Taylor folded the envelope sadly. “Except I’m not.”