“Before I let you loose on this thing,” he says, his Texas drawl thick and rich, making each word lilt from his lips like molasses or honey. I bring my legs together beneath the table.
“Yeah?”
He looks out the window at his daughter, then back to me, this time his voice lower. “I know Sadie’s gotta be part of it. I know that’s the deal I made with Melvin.”
“Devin,” I correct, falling a little in love with him for not remembering my shitty ex-boyfriend’s name.
“Right, I know I said she’d be in the film. And I’m okay with that. I mean, I know I gotta be okay with that.” He strokes his hand through his hair, damp and sort of curly, and I wonder what Landry Vaughn looks like with it combed nice, or after a shower, or?—
“Anyway, I watched your film, about the girls in New York, the Bronx one,” he says, and I’m completely surprised. Looking up UBS is one thing, but watching my work isanother. It’s an investment, in my eyes. “You’re good with kids and I just ask that you remember this movie is supposed to be about me.”
I lean against the back of the chair, which creaks, and blink at him. I can’t imagine this man has a selfish hair on his head, so I can’t quite understand the subtext I’m supposed to be getting from this. “I’m sorry?”
He drags one of his large hands down his face, through the scruff layering his jaw, and stares down at the woodgrain in the table for a moment. Sadie and Petunia giggle, the sound drifting through the screen like a happy breeze. His piercing eyes lift and pin me to the chair. “Please don’t make this about Sadie not havin’ her mama, or anything like that. I touched on this before but… I want to be clear—I don’t want that to be a part of the film.”
I stare at him, trying to understand what he’s really asking. Surely he knows that a documentary means a film that examines a person or event based on facts. Excluding it would feel disingenuous and potentially cause viewers familiar with Landry Vaughn to question what else may be left out if that is, too. “Landry, I don’t have any plans to sensationalize your loss, if that’s your fear.”
He shakes his head, scratching at his hairline with that same large hand. “I watched your other three films,” he says, and I sit up a little straighter, surprised. He just said he’d watched my documentary about the girls at the boarding school in the Bronx, but somehow it still surprises and floors me to learn he watched them all. “I know you aren’t lookin’ to make a sob story, and that’s not what I’m saying.”
From my periphery, I see a woman with long red hair approach, her feet bare, her body covered in dirty overalls. Landry catches my gaze and follows it, and without words, gets to his feet and opens the back door.
“Can Sadie stay for lunch?” she asks Landry. He nods but motions her inside, and I get to my feet, already wearing a smile.
“Love, this is Quinn Farley. She’s the one making the documentary about me,” he says, a little shy on the last few words. Love is gorgeous, fair skin and freckles, and hits me with a beautiful smile. She shakes my hand, then immediately apologizes. “I’m so sorry I have to rush off. I’d love to stay and get to you know, Quinn, but the baby is waking up from her nap and I’ve got lunch on the stove.”
I wave her off, a weird feeling in my feet. “No worries. It was great to meet you,” I assure her, smiling as I sit back in the chair, watching as Landry guides her out then closes the screen door.
He returns to the table and cuts to the chase.
“Sadie was one and half months old when Amelia died. She doesn’t even remember her,” he admits, his voice thin and frayed, eyes set on the woodgrain of the table again before coming to mine. “I don’t want this movie to bring up our loss too much, for her sake. She knows her mama is in Heaven, that her mama was sick… she knows all that. But she doesn’t know the toll it took, and she’s too young to have that in her mind, you know?”
I find myself bobbing my head yes, despite the fact that I have never lost anyone when I was a child, nor have I experienced loss as an adult. But I see Sadie’s face in my mind, and remember Mabel’s words, and I completely, utterly, understand what he’s saying.
“You have my word.”
He gets to his feet and stares, and I realize he’s waiting for me to do the same, so I do. “Feel free to explore. If you want a guide, just holler. I’ll be in the barn if you need me.”
Ahead of me, he pushes the back door open, and waits forme to step outside. On the porch, the sun hot against my nose, I blink back up at him. “Can I ask you something?”
He steps outside and the screen bumps his ass. “Kinda figured you’ll be asking me a lot, since you’re making a movie about me.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear nervously, notebook under my arm, camera on my wrist. “Why the comeback now?” Of everything Mabel shared, the reason why Landry is returning to the circuit wasn’t one of them. “Is it because Sadie’s old enough now? You got the time to get away and train again?”
“Missed the thrill.”
It doesn’t feel like an honest answer, because his eyes skirt his boots as he replies.
Landry tips his hat and disappears into the barn, and I jot down his words in my notebook, looping a pink circle around them.
Then, I get to work.
CHAPTER 6
REACTION TIME IS HOT
After repairingthe barn door and getting the hay baled, I stick my head out of the barn when I don’t hear the girls outside.
Tatum and Love have three girls, two of which are Sadie’s best friends. When their youngest is old enough, I’m sure she’ll be one of Sadie’s best friends, too. But when I can’t hear those girls squealin’ or hollerin’ about something, it’s worrisome.
