Page 162 of Score
“My agent and I discussed it, and I care about this show too much to have it suffer if I have an episode, so I met with their president of scripted. When I told her, she said she understood because her son has bipolar, too.”
“No way.”
“Yeah. Her son is this high-powered lawyer in New York now, but it took him a long time to finish law school and a lot of fight to get where he is. She said his clients are lucky to have someone like him, and United is lucky to have someone like me.”
“Sounds like you couldn’t ask for a better situation.”
“Nope. She only asks that I choose a strong second. Someone who is right there every step of the way as we develop the show and can step in if I need them to, so the show wouldn’t skip a beat.”
“You got anyone in mind?”
“My friend Desiree from film school. We’ve always wanted to work together, so here’s our chance.”
“Hey, Canon, can we check the blocking before we start?” Jill asks, entering the tent without looking up from her notes. When she sees me, a huge grin splits her face and she walks over to give me a hug. “So glad you’re here, Verity.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I tell her.
Jill’s eyes stray back to Canon and some of the softness dissipates as she shifts back to work. “The blocking?”
“Oh, yeah,” Canon says. “Let’s look at it.”
“I’m gonna sneak over to see Neevah before we start,” I say. “If there’s time?”
“Sure,” Canon says distractedly, his mind already turned toward the discussion he and Jill need to have. “She should be in her trailer.”
I wave goodbye and head to find Neevah. When I knock, there’s a muffled “come in,” so I open the door.
“Verity!” Neevah squeals, but keeps still as Takira slides a pin into her wig. “Hi! Come. Sit!”
I walk deeper into the trailer and settle onto the comfortable armchair a few feet from where she and Takira are finalizing Dessi’s hair for this last scene. The makeup artist aged Neevah for the late 1950s when Cal and Dessi were in their early forties.
“I’m almost done,” Takira says, a look of concentration on her face.
“No need to rush,” I tell them. “Just saying hi because I haven’t seen you since you got back, Neevah.”
“No one has.” Neevah rolls her eyes. “Canon’s kept me under lock and key, confined to the house and barely out of his sight.”
There’s no irritation in her comment. If anything, she looks more serene than I’ve ever seen her.
“There,” Takira says, teeth clenched around a bobby pin and eyes narrowed on Neevah’s wig. “That should do it. I’ll be back. I need to go check Hazel’s… Belle’s… hair.”
When the door closes, Neevah leans forward, her eyes gleaming with delight. “I heard about you and Monk. I wasn’t sure if everyone knows.”
“We haven’t been screaming it from the rooftops,” I laugh, tracing the floral pattern on the armchair. “But it’s not a secret. I don’t care if people find out now. We didn’t want the whole cast and crew gossiping about us.”
When I realize how I just put my foot in my mouth, I lean forward and grip Neevah’s hand. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”
“Girl, you fine. Canon and I haven’t had much privacy, even from the beginning. I am glad to wrap, even though it’s hard to leave Dessi. She’s taught me so much, ya know?”
“Yeah, I do.” I hesitate before plunging in with what I came to say. “I wanted to tell you how much I admired you for chasing your dreams and not letting your diagnosis stop you. Seeing you navigate chronic illness in this industry under such a bright spotlight gave me a lot of courage.”
“Really?” Neevah’s sweet smile prompts me to go on.
“I have bipolar disorder.”
Neevah’s eyes widen a little, but there’s no other reaction. So I plunge on: “And now I have a shot at running my first show, so I told the studio executive overseeing it. She’s making some accommodations but not counting me out.”
“That’s all we want, right? A chance not to be counted out just because our bodies and minds aren’t like everyone else’s?”
