Documentary (3 page)

Dylan typed out a short email to Nina Sanchez and listed preferred dates and times for her interview. Her phone soon emitted a short buzz
, and it turned out to be a response.
That was quick.
The interview was scheduled for Friday at 10 am.

“I saw Low’s schedule of winter break fun. She is not going to be happy with you.” Kate tucked her belongings into her bag when the
quad’s tower clock gonged, and embraced Dylan before dashing toward one of her insanely difficult classes. Dylan and Winslow had planned to hang out for a few days during Christmas break when they were both back on the East Coast. While Kate was trying to ease Dylan out of this newly developed shell, Winslow was going at it with a pick and a sledgehammer. And maybe she needed both methods.

“I know,” Dylan shouted after her as she stood up too, but she could handle Winslow not being happy with her; it was Kai’s people she was worried about.

The Interview – Chapter 2

Dylan pushed the bathroom door open and let some of the steam waft out before she stepped in. It had to be over a hundred degrees in there, but Winslow’s showers were usually scalding. Dylan brushed her hand across the foggy mirror. She drew on a light, almost nude shade of lip stain that a saleswoman had cajoled her into buying after she swore that it complemented Dylan’s olive complexion. She pulled her thick, dark hair into a ponytail and fashioned it into a high bun. She laughed at her reflection, thinking she looked like a porny librarian with the addition of the suit. “What exactly would you like to…
check out
, sir
?
” Dylan purred at herself, shimmying.

“What the hell are you talking about out there?” Winslow called from the shower. Dylan trilled out high-pitched, nervous giggles. It was interview day and every time the clocked picked off an hour, she got more anxious.

The amount of experience necessary to shadow someone like Kai for the project was probably beyond what she had attained so far. CSFC was not a film school by any means, so she didn’t have access to the breadth of courses and opportunities that an actual film program would offer in a place like L.A. Probably if not for Jordan being there for as long as she had been, CSFC wouldn’t have even had the present courses in film in the catalog. Dylan had spent the past two summers in film workshops at other schools to fill in some of the creativity gaps on her transcript and
résumé
. At the start of her sophomore year last year, Dylan had even considered applying to the celebrated film programs at USC and NYU’s Tisch School, but her parents’ finances would not have survived as they were still paying off Mac’s medical bills that had exceeded the life insurance payment, in addition to her tuition and her sister Taylor’s private school tuition.

How many other students from small schools were on the interview list? How many
students
? What if she totally blew this chance? What if she stumbled over a question? She had woken up panicked and sweaty, remembering the beauty queen who had rambled inarticulately during the question and answer portion in a pageant. Dylan had laughed at that video on YouTube for days, and she hoped that she wouldn’t leave
that
kind of lasting impression.

Winslow stepped out of the shower wrapped in a towel with another one heaped on her head like a woven basket.

“Well?” Dylan asked as she rotated. Her blood was pumping so quickly that her knees wobbled. Her nerves were frayed; it wasn’t just the high ass heels she was wearing.

Winslow secured the end of her towel by tucking it deeper around the edge before she circled Dylan. Her brow was furrowed because she took the question seriously, inspecting her friend with meticulous attention to details: the bun, the heather gray knee-length skirt and matching blazer, and the white button down with thin, light pink and gray stripes. When she finally looked up, Winslow’s brown eyes widened and her forehead smoothed out. “Well, if I had to rate it on a scale from ‘one’ to ‘I hate you for deserting me over break,’ I’d say, you look amazing.
You’ll be great too! You’re definitely going to get the job, Dee.” She smiled and went in for a hug, but Dylan stepped back.

“Air hug. You’re wet,” she said, spreading her arms. Winslow did the same and they planted kisses from afar.

If she had to choose which of the girls she was closest to—and it would only be by the length of a straight pin—it was probably Winslow, even though the three of them had become friends at the same time when they got stuck in the Terrible Triple in Jones Hall freshman year. The legendary Terrible Triple was a double that been turned into a triple without any additional room space actually being created. One of the beds had simply been “bunked.” That kind of living situation could only breed one of two extremes: sworn enemies or lifelong friends. They were the latter and amongst the lucky few freshmen roommates who had stayed friends after living together, but they were determined not to jinx it, so they maintained their friendship and went on to new living arrangements. Winslow moved off campus and Kate moved to the unofficial “science dorm.” Dylan was fortunate again in her next roommate situation and ended up staying in Jones the following year. Now, she was in a dorm nicknamed “City Apartments” with the same girl from the year before. They weren’t close friends, but she and Grace got along well. Other than late at night, Grace was rarely there, so their room was essentially a single for Dylan most of the time.

Dylan attributed the closeness between her and Winslow to the fact that although they had never met prior to orientation, they had grown up only ten miles from each other in metropolitan Northern Virginia, right outside Washington, D.C., and had attended rival high schools. They had bonded over that almost instantly, but as she had gotten to know her, Dylan had developed steadfast admiration for her best friend’s strength. Unlike, Kate and Dylan, Winslow was completely on her own financially, and she had been since her parents cut her out of their lives when Winslow got married during the summer between their freshman and sophomore years. She married her high school sweetheart, Steve, right before he shipped out to Afghanistan.

They eventually drifted into Winslow’s bedroom where she unceremoniously and without warning shed her towel as Dylan sprawled across the bed, careful not to wrinkle her suit.

“Jesus, Low!” Dylan exclaimed.

“I have on underwear, prude! I grabbed it from the basket and put it on
just for you
before we came in!” Winslow yelled as she padded across the room to her closet. In a flash, she was dressed in her usual: boyfriend fit jeans and a loose t-shirt. She hardly ever wore anything to show off her fit and shapely figure. She always said, “I’m married, so my goods are out of stock.” She tousled her blond pixie cut to perfection in the mirror and put her contact lenses in.

“How’d interview prep go with Katie?”

“You mean schoolmarm? I kept waiting for her to cane me over her knee when I stuttered. She was tough but it was good.” Dylan checked her watch and a rip of terror pulled across her belly. She flopped onto her back and hoped for the feeling to go away.

“Want to run through it with me?” Winslow made a thoughtful face with her hand on her hip.

“Sure. Your questions can’t be any worse than hers,” Dylan said, shrugging.

“And suddenly I wonder if you know me at all.” Winslow rolled her eyes, and she pushed her feet into her sneakers. “Okay, here goes. Being so young, do you think you’ll be able to handle this project…and Mr. White?” Winslow made no effort to restrain her devilish grin, indicating that the question was sexual in nature. “Are you sure that if you take this position you won’t let Mr. White put you in any positions on his bed?”

Dylan catapulted herself straight up, speechless. She blushed over pink completely before she launched a pillow at Winslow. It hit her square in the face. Winslow retaliated by wielding it like a nunchuck and smacked Dylan with it a few times.

“I’m going there to work!” Dylan stressed, and she was so flustered, she managed to dodge none of the blows. Attractive or not, Kai White was a job. She had worked with attractive classmates before and managed to navigate those late night projects in her dorm room without anything happening.

“So, all work…and no play?” Winslow held a skeptical smirk as she plopped down next to Dylan.

Dylan shook her head. “None. Have you seen me
play
lately?”

“I forgot
you’ve closed up shop.” Winslow popped the “P” sound off her lips. “Actually, now that I think about it…not since that night at the SAE 80’s party last school year. What’s that kid’s name? The one who was wearing the acid wash jeans and gold chains? Thomas? He’s in Chem with me and he literally chases me after class to ask about you. In fact, yesterday he wanted to know if you’d be at their Jungleball.”

“I hope you told him I’m not going.” Dylan chuckled and gave her friend a playful push. “And we kissed for all of ten minutes when that one Maroon 5 song I like was
playing, when they gave us a break from the 80’s music.”

“Oh, right, blame Adam Levine…” She narrowed her eyes on Dylan. “Anyway, we were talking about
Kai White.
”

“What about him?” Dylan asked, trying not to smile as she stood in preparation to go meet with Nina Sanchez. Yeah, so maybe she thought Kai was really cute.

“Um, you’re going to be in intimate quarters with one of the most beautiful guys—I saw an Internet poll—for weeks, following him around, sleeping right next to him on a tour bus. Those types of odds would challenge even the most pious amongst us.” Winslow cocked a crooked smile at her.

“Well, in that case, I’ll be sure to hang the ‘open for business’
sign,” Dylan said sarcastically before she blew a kiss at Winslow and jetted out of the apartment.

              Dylan’s gaze flew to the door of Il Bistro every time it creaked open, and the sound was shredding her already worn out nerves. Each time, it had only been a San Francisco professional getting breakfast and coffee. She regretted selecting a table so close to the entrance, but she wanted to make sure Nina Sanchez didn’t miss her. It was 10:30 now though, and Nina still hadn’t shown up. Dylan had double-checked the date, time and location four times since arriving at 9:45.

She stabbed the last piece of omelet on her plate, knowing that her stomach was reaching a critical level, but she couldn’t sit still; she was
just trying to keep busy. Dylan reminded herself that her strong body of work had gotten her here, and she could probably pull off a great interview, but she was ready to just get it over with. She managed to make eye contact with the waitress who was attending to her while she was entering a charge into a cash register. Her comforting smile loosened up some of Dylan’s anxiety. Dylan motioned that she was going to the bathroom—not running out on the check—where she refreshed her makeup and preened. That shot of confidence she had gotten from her prep with Kate had mostly evaporated.

             
When she exited the bathroom, she was disappointed to find that the seat across from hers was still empty, but her waitress was standing nearby.

“Are you Dylan Carroll, by any chance?” the friendly waitress asked as she refilled the glass when Dylan returned to her seat. Her cheeks were glowing
, and her smile stretched to impossible lengths across her face.

             
Dylan got excited. “Yes.” Was Nina finally here? Dylan looked around, expecting someone to wave as confirmation, but the person who did was not a woman at all. Dylan’s heart made a swift rise into her throat, and no matter how many times she gulped down it remained lodged in the spot like a pill.

Oh fuck.

              “Well, lucky you. A guy, who I’m pretty sure is Kai White, is here for you.” She ended the sentence with a pout, and there was an air of jealousy in her tone. She looked at Dylan as though she were trying to conjure up a spell to switch places with her.

             
Nononononnonono.
The word beat over and over against Dylan’s skull even as she maintained her composure on the surface. Nina was supposed to do the interview, not Kai White. No fucking way. “Thank you.” Her voice came out scratchy and unfamiliar. “Please send him over.”

             
“Is it Kai White? He kind of looks like him,” the waitress pressed, remaining near the table. “I can’t tell with the hat.”

             
“No…it’s someone else.”
Wishful thinking.
Dylan’s mouth quivered into a soft smile. The waitress nodded once, squinting in doubt, before signaling Kai. Dylan stood and held onto the table for balance as he approached. He was lankier in person, she thought, but he was just as gorgeous as every image of him she had come across. He was wearing a black Lava Energy Drink baseball cap with the signature violet cursive scrawled across it over his wild hair. Her eyes sailed down his frame, pausing first on his deep blue eyes, then broad shoulders and hard body hidden under his black shirt, and finally to where the muscle definition at his hips were.
Pantypantypanty…droppers!
Winslow always said it quietly to her friends, but fast like an auctioneer, whenever she saw a guy who had them. It was a totally inappropriate thought and she shouldn’t have been checking him out, but she was just so nervous. Dylan stifled a surge of laughter filling her chest, fought against the twitching corners of her mouth, and greeted Kai.
What is the name of his album again? And that quote I liked in Rolling Stone? And his guitar, what is it called?
She was going to botch this.