Ship It(89)

But I don’t say that. Instead, I say, “Sounds good.”

“Now listen to me,” Reynolds says, taking my arm and guiding me into a walk-and-talk. “This thing with the studio? It’s tender. I’m talking tender,” he says intensely. “They can still nix you at any moment and force me to go with Pratt.”

I knew Pratt’d be in the mix for this!

He continues, “I want you to picture this situation as a burn victim. Weeping open sores. Do not poke. TENDER.”

“I got it,” I say to put an end to that metaphor.

“When you go out there today, I don’t want you to say anything about Red Zone except, ‘I would be incredibly honored to be considered for the part. I love the game.’ Got it?”

“Yup.”

“And don’t say anything about Demon Heart except, ‘It was a wonderful experience that I will cherish forever.’”

“Cherish forever?”

“You got it?”

“So I can’t talk about Red Zone, I can’t talk about Demon Heart. What the hell can I talk about?”

“Hell if I know, this is a damn spot,” Reynolds says. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

We arrive at my door and he slaps me on the back again, harder than before, and heads off.

I remind myself that I used to think Jon Reynolds was hot shit. Now he just seems smarmy. I take a beat before I go inside. I’ve been watching yoga videos on YouTube to mix up my workouts so it’s not all weights and cardio. I take a few restorative breaths, and then let out a long exhale, making a big ahhh sound.

Don’t talk about Red Zone, don’t talk about Demon Heart. It’s all so ridiculous. My whole job is to go out there and talk. Paula would love nothing more than if I bared my soul and gushed about personal shit and cried. That’s the sort of thing that goes viral. Jamie would love for me to tell everyone to watch the show Demon Heart and nothing but the show Demon Heart and then share safe anecdotes about how much fun the show Demon Heart is to work on. Claire? Well, we all know what Claire wants, but that would really make Reynolds’s head explode.

After one more restorative breath, I go in.

“There he is!” Rico hollers from across the room as soon as I enter. I haven’t seen him in a few weeks and it’s the longest we’ve been apart basically since we met. He crosses the room in a few strides and wraps me up in a big hug. “I missed you, Reed. What, I gotta go all the way to Comic-Con to see you these days?” He puts me down, then runs his fingers through my hair. “Oh, sorry, whoops, I forgot, don’t touch the hair.”

Over Rico’s shoulder, I see Claire biting her lip, wearing the look of a shipper watching her OTP interact. (Yeah, yeah, I’ve learned the lingo, so what?) Rico tries to arrange my hair back the way it was, but I pull away from him.

“Stop, stop, you’re making it worse!”

“I’m never gonna learn if you don’t let me practice,” he protests, laughing. I just push him away and fix it myself.

Claire is gesturing me over covertly like she’s got the answers to the midterm to give me under the bleachers at lunch.

I go over to her. “Hey.”

She’s hugging her body with one arm and she’s covering half her face with the other one. She looks up at me through her fingers.

“What is it?” I ask, popping into a crouch next to her chair so we can be eye-to-eye.

“Forest,” she says into her hand. She moves her hand so she can talk clearly. “What do I do?”

I’ve only ever seen Claire stridently on a mission to convince everyone she’s correct. Seeing her curled up, unsure, it’s giving me secondhand nerves.

“What are you talking about? You’re anxious about this panel?”

“No it’s not that.” She gives me a pointed look. “What do I ask?”

And I realize what she’s saying. SmokeHeart. I take a deep breath to buy myself some time. I don’t know what to tell her. I know what would make life easiest for me, but is that what I should say? Or should I tell her to follow her heart?

Earlier she told me that there are a lot of people who would like to hear me open up about SmokeHeart, that I could help heal some old wounds if I would just be honest about it. Maybe I should tell her to ask me about it. Press me until I can’t not talk about it. But I know Reynolds would be pissed at me for saying something no matter how it comes out.

So here we are. Stuck.

“I know what it feels like to have everyone expecting something from you,” I say. “Telling you what to do, where to go, how to sound, when to smile, what to say. I don’t want to do that to you. You get to be your own person today.” Claire frowns. “I think you should do what you think is best. There’s no one I’d trust up there more than you.”

She scowls. I haven’t helped her at all. I give her a smile and stand up again. I don’t envy her this job.

I pass Jamie sitting by himself in the corner, on his phone. He glances up and we accidentally make eye contact. I have absolutely nothing to say to him. He nods at me. I keep walking.

I’m happy to be here, happy to see Rico and Claire, and do my part to put my face out there if it helps my career, or helps Rico get a second season. But if I never have to talk to Jamie again, I’d be perfectly okay with that. One more panel and my obligations are fulfilled.