Thank You for Listening(48)
Adaku huffed. “You know what?” Sat back, huffed again. “Honestly? Sometimes you really piss me off. You want to think the only thing anybody sees is that scar, go for it. But meanwhile, there’s a chance for us to do something together. To make something happen together. And you are perfect for the part because of everything you are, and everything you’ve survived, and sorry, but yes, that has a lot to do with that scar.”
Adaku stopped there as the food arrived. She dug into her salad with leashed frustration. Sewanee picked at hers for a few moments before saying, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just wish–”
“And I just wish you’d deal with it already,” Adaku rushed out, in loving exasperation. “Because it’s holding you back and it kills me to watch you–”
Sewanee held up a hand. “I know.” She encircled Adaku’s wrist. “I’m sorry.” She widened her eye for emphasis.
Adaku sighed and lifted her wrist to her lips, kissed the top of Sewanee’s lingering hand. “Me too. I’m hangry all the time now. This training’s turned me into a roided-out gym dick.”
Sewanee chuckled and Adaku dug back into her salad. Sewanee took a bite and a sip of water. “So. How real is this? Me doing this?”
Adaku swallowed. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll check in with the studio. I know they haven’t found anyone yet. I can’t guarantee they’d make a straight offer. Even I had to audition. But it’ll be a formality. They’re going to fall in love with you.”
*
February 27
BROCK:
Heads up: in one of my sections, Claire asks what Alessandro wants out of their lovemaking and he says, “I want to change your voice.” And then at the end, he references that he did at some point and how it was the hottest accomplishment of his life or some such. So maybe find a place to change your voice in one of your sections?
SEWANEE:
You want me to change my voice?
BROCK:
IDK. Maybe just something that gives a little heat to Claire’s typical cool/calm/collected thing.
SEWANEE:
You really want that?
BROCK:
No. Not necessarily. I’m just spit-balling.
SEWANEE:
Well, is there a specific spit-ball you have in mind?
BROCK:
You know, whatever. Something a little wild. Maybe.
SEWANEE:
Wild? Really.
BROCK:
Ok, not wild.
Maybe just wanton.
SEWANEE:
Wanton?!
BROCK:
Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.
SEWANEE:
BROCK:
Are you . . . laughing at me?
SEWANEE:
Wantonly.
Hey, uhhhhh, heads up: In one of my sections it says, “I’d never heard my own voice sound like that, I didn’t sound like myself. Or maybe I sounded exactly like myself. My true self.” So maybe if you could, like, IDK, do something worthy of that response . . .
BROCK:
you already knew all this.
SEWANEE:
But rest assured I thoroughly enjoyed you trying to talk about it.
BROCK:
It wasn’t easy.
SEWANEE:
I could hear your voice change.
BROCK:
?
Twenty-eight minutes later, as Sewanee was standing in a towel in her bathroom, combing out her hair, her phone dinged.
BROCK:
It’s a good line, isn’t it? I want to change your voice.
SEWANEE:
It is.
BROCK:
It is.
SEWANEE:
June knew what she was doing.
BROCK:
I would vaporize if a woman said that to me.
SEWANEE:
I would vaporize if a man achieved it.
She watched the bubbles appear. Watched them stop.
Start again.
Stop.
Start.
Stop.
Start.
Stop.
*
February 28
SEWANEE:
Question. Any interest in doing something other than Romance? A friend is casting a Clancy-esque book and needs an alpha assassin sound.
BROCK:
It’s gratifying to know I sound that masculine to you.
SEWANEE:
Sounds can be deceiving?
BROCK:
Let’s just say the voice is the only thing I have going for me in that department.
SEWANEE:
Don’t forget you’re a musician. Lots of women dig that.
BROCK:
Not you tho?
SEWANEE:
I live in LA. Every guy is a musician.
BROCK:
Anyone ever written a song about you?
SEWANEE:
mmm . . .
I don’t think so?
BROCK:
You wouldn’t remember?
SEWANEE:
I’ve listened to a lot of bad boyfriends’ bad songs. I just don’t think any of them were written about me. At least I hope they weren’t.
BROCK:
Fair.
SEWANEE:
So should I put your hat in the ring?
BROCK:
I appreciate it, really, but honestly? Even the thought of it . . .
it makes me tired.
you want to know how unsuited I actually am to this job?
SEWANEE:
PLEASE