Chapter 12: The Shoot

Jameson read the text upside down.

I watched his jaw lock.

He didn't move back. Neither did I.

"Striped romper," he said.

"He hates the striped romper. It itches."

"Felicity."

"I know."

Out on the porch, Ollie laughed at something his husband said on the phone.

I let go of Jameson's shirt one finger at a time.

"Ask me again," I said. "When she's not in the room."

"She isn't in the room."

I held up the phone.

He looked at it. Then he looked at me, for a long time, from very close.

Then he stepped back and the cold air came in where he'd been.

He picked up his keys from the counter.

"Nine o'clock," he said at the door.

"I'll handle it."

"I know you will." He hesitated. "I'll be at the gate anyway."

At 8:55 a white van pulled up on Tradd Street.

I watched it from the carriage house window with my coffee.

A camera operator. A girl with a rolling case of makeup. A boy carrying two light stands and a garment bag.

Then Lisette, in white jeans and her trench, already filming.

"Okay, everybody, we are here! Day one of Crumb's new life in Charleston. Are you ready to see the house?"

Jameson came out of the side door of the main house in a T-shirt and jeans.

He walked down the brick path and stood inside the iron gate.

He didn't open it.

Benji was on the couch in his dinosaur pajamas, eating dry cereal out of the box with Ollie.

"Who's that?" he said.

"Work people," I said. "Stay with Uncle Ollie."

I set down my coffee, put on my shoes and walked out to the gate.

Lisette lit up.

"There she is! Good morning, Fee!" She swung the camera onto me. "Say hi to everybody!"

"Hi," I said.

"Jamie, darling, can you get the gate? We've got three looks and the light's perfect."

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