Free The Director's Cut by Janice Thompson Page A

stuffy sinuses. They were worse than ever. Maybe I really was coming down with something.
    No, after a hot shower, I could only conclude I had DIY syndrome. Too much home improvement had nearly done me in. But no time to think about that right now, not with our final run-through happening today. Somehow I had to get through this delivery scene, even if it killed me. And I had a feeling it might, especially with my body in such a weakened state.
    After showering, I did a few stretches, hoping to ease my joints into working order. Though they cried out in pain, they cooperated for the most part. Still, nothing about this particular Wednesday morning felt right to me. For one thing, Mama didn’t call me like she always did as I made the drive to the studio. For another, I couldn’t seem to get my creative thought processes to come into alignment where this week’s filming was concerned. Instead, I had this nagging feeling that I was on the Titanic , slowly guiding it toward an iceberg. Heaven help me.
    Arriving at the studio, I parked and did my best to emerge from the car without wincing in pain. After all, with Lenora and Rex pulling into the spot next to me, I had to keep up appearances. And speaking of keeping up appearances, Lenora emerged from her pink Cadillac convertible wearing a cream-colored blouse with a high collar, a long skirt, white gloves, and a wide-brimmed hat. I’d gotten pretty good at guessing her movie getups, but I had to admit this one boggled me.
    â€œWho are we today, Lenora?” Jason said from behind me, and I turned to see him walking my way from the most gorgeous red BMW Z4 I’d ever seen. I’d never noticed that he drove such a wowzer car. Maybe it was new. Still, it seemed a little odd considering his cameraman’s salary.
    Lenora’s voice startled me back to attention. “I’ll give you a clue. I traveled with Humphrey Bogart up the river, facing crocodiles and renegades who tried to kill me.”
    â€œAh, piece of cake.” Jason nodded. “Katherine Hepburn. The African Queen .”
    â€œOne of the greatest movies ever filmed.” Lenora sighed. “Wasn’t Bogart the dreamiest boat captain you’d ever want to see?”
    Rex cleared his throat.
    â€œOh, don’t worry, you sweet man.” Lenora reached up to stroke his cheek, her eyes filled with wonder. “There will never be a hero greater than you.”
    He gave her a sweeping bow. “Why, thank you. Thank you very much.”
    A girlish giggle erupted from his wife. “It’s Elvis in the flesh!”
    â€œThen you are my Priscilla.” Arm in arm, they walked into the studio, Rex’s voice bellowing out “Love Me Tender.”
    I pulled out a Kleenex and blew my nose. “They’re really something, aren’t they?”
    â€œYeah.” Jason looked their way then glanced at me. “They give me hope that some relationships really do stand the test of time.”
    â€œMe too.” Just one more thing we had in common.
    â€œAre you sick?” He pointed at the Kleenex.
    â€œI’ve been stricken with a rare malady—DIY syndrome—but I’d rather not talk about it right now if you don’t mind.”
    â€œDIY syndrome?” He looked puzzled but didn’t comment.
    â€œYeah.” I blew my nose again. “But don’t worry. It’s not contagious. If it was, the whole country would be under red alert.”
    As we entered the studio, I took note of Erin, who was playing with a couple of the kids. They really seemed smitten with her, and vice versa. Her laughter, lilting and carefree, brought a certain sense of joy to the place. What would it be like to live like that all the time? To have such a relaxed attitude? Likely I’d never know.
    I got right to work, checking in with the writers to see how next week’s script was coming, then committing to a plan of action for the day.
    By eight