Victor was laughing. “I can’t even see her.”
“Then you shouldn’t be throwing cushions.”
“Sorry, Molly.” A soft thump as Victor’s feet hit the floor. He got his hands around Andy’s ankles and pulled him around to the edge of the bed.
“Jesus, you are strong.”
“Says the guy who lifted me off the bed.”
“Only half of you.” Victor laughed. Andy was smiling. “You were power-lifting Loretta. You’re such a movie star. That scene is going to absolutely kill.”
“I wonder which take they’ll go with.” To Victor, it was a toss-up. The director might choose the first take, which had been closest to perfect in terms of execution of the whole dance (including the lift). On the other hand, he might choose the third, when they’d almost whiffed it. Victor’d had to do a half a turn with Loretta in the air, setting her down with a degree of haste that almost certainly read as ‘near disaster.’ Which would be perfect for the storyline, and by then the extras were expecting the lift to go well, so when it had looked as though Victor might drop her there had been an audible reaction. “They didn’t let me see the rushes.”
Andy sat up, finally. “The third time was funny as shit. It wouldn’t have been funny if you’d dropped her, but because you didn’t.” He shrugged. “Or more accurately, if she’d overshot her position. You weren’t dropping her. It was a balance thing.”
“She was great. I love her.”
“I know, I do too. Hope she isn’t down there going, oh my God, how
long can I tolerate that kind of racket.” They both giggled. Victor gave Andy a hand up off the bed and they headed for the shower.
“A week to rest,” Victor said lazily a few days later, when they were all in the backyard, lounging in the sun. “And get those routines back in our heads here at home. Then it’s into the studio with Dmitri for ‘Love is Blindness,’ right?”
“Right.” They were on the double lounger. Andy had Victor’s hand in his. “I’ve got our costume managed thanks to Kenji, and he’s going to do Shylock for us. Charlie said she could shoot our lines. We’ll get that out of the way and then I can start scheduling the others.”
“Patrick looks like the Armenian Ricardo Montalban.”
“Wrath of Sarkisian.” They both giggled. “I think Dmitri digs it. Have you decided what you want to do, amiga?”
Loretta knew all about this project by now. She was putting herself through Shakespeare boot camp. Her high school hadn’t taught it, she’d never read any of the plays, and had seen only one film adaptation. She was mowing through Andy and Victor’s DVD library while she read the plays.
“Do you already have Viola?”
Andy sat up a little and looked over at her. God you’re cute, he thought.
She was lying on her front in her bikini with her hair up in an octopus clip, e-reader in front of her, and reading glasses perched on her nose. He let go of Victor, fished his camera out from under the lounger, and took a few pictures of Loretta. “No, we don’t. Did you find a good line?”
“I think so, but it’s not twisted.” She looked worried.
“It doesn’t have to be. We’ve got Macbeth and Macduff straight out of the play. There’s quite a few of these that are going to be played straight.”
“Oh good.”
“So?”
“‘I am not what I am.’ When she is Cesario.”
Andy was pleased. “Oh lord yes. See, Shakespeare already twisted that one for us. Historical costume?”
“Oh, yes please.” She looked excited. “I can put the picture in my portfolio?”
“Of course you can. Hey, holy shit, that reminds me.”
Victor looked over; he thought he was completely up to date on Andy, but possibly not. “What?”
“Raquel sent me this thing. A historical thing for next summer, an English production. Filming partly in England and partly in Spain. It’s about the siege of Badajoz, during the Napoleonic Wars, which I knew absolutely zero about until I saw the script.”
“Oh that’s what you were muttering about last night! I was like, Bada-what?”
“I know about that,” Loretta said, surprising them both. “We didn’t study it in school but I read about it in a romance novel. The hero was there and he had, like, PTSD. His dreams were so horrible and sad, I had to look it up. Are you going to take the part?”
“Well, they want me to do a couple of scenes on video. I’d be playing a Portuguese, meaning a good guy.”
“An officer?” Victor was thinking he’d love to see Andy in uniform. It might have come through in his tone; Andy shot him a laughing look. “Do they want an accent?”
“Apparently the baseline is Spanish-inflected English. Which I can do, especially if I study with Nick for a minute.” One of Andy’s friends was English. “Anyway so the idea is I send in the video and if they like it they’ll ship me some costume, and if they like the look it’s mine.”
“And that would be while I’m doing my thing?” Victor was delighted.
Andy nodded. “That is awesome.”
“Wikipedia says there was a TV movie about this back in 1994. I’m going to try to track it down.”
“Do you want to read this book?” Loretta asked. “I have it here in my e-reader. It’s really good, I read everything this person writes.”
“Tell me what it is, I’ll get my own copy.” Andy looked around for his phone, found it, and pulled up his Amazon app.
“It’s ‘Summer Campaign,’ by Carla Kelly.”
“Great.” Andy squinted at the screen and did things. A few minutes later he nodded with satisfaction. “Thanks, chica. I’ll read that tonight.” He set down the phone, looked with disapproval at his empty glass, and went to get a fresh drink.
A couple days later, Andy realized he had the house to himself, and felt not relieved but abandoned. “Molly,” he said, “there was a time when being alone at home was all
