The Director's Cut by Janice Thompson Read Free Book Online Page A

looked. So much for those hunky carpenters on the DIY network, telling me I could do it myself. They’d clearly never seen a neurotic, overworked Hollywood director try her hand at home improvement.
    My watery eyes and itchy nose made me a great candidate for an antihistamine commercial, but I didn’t dare take any meds. Not on such an important day. It was Tuesday, after all. Some of my toughest work happened on Tuesdays. Blocking and reblocking scenes. Giving instruction to the actors, the camera guys, and so on. Nope. No time to think about a head cold—or whatever this was—today.
    As I hit the 405, I shifted gears—internally, anyway—and gave some thought to today’s plan of action. After such a great read-through yesterday, I felt sure my cast and crew would be in good spirits. That would help. Hopefully our run-through would be smooth.
    My phone rang just as I reached my exit. I pushed a button on my steering wheel and Mama’s voice rang out, just as it did every morning about this time.
    â€œTia-mia, you sweet girl! I just called to thank you for getting Benita the job. It means the world to me. And her too, of course. To all of us. Oh, you always come through for us, Tia.”
    â€œIt’s not really solid yet, Mama,” I said. “Rex has agreed to meet with her today. I called her last night and made it very clear what is expected of her, if he does decide to hire her.” A chill came over me as I thought about the potential for disaster with my sister in the studio. Thankfully, the SUV behind me provided the perfect distraction as he attempted to rush me down the ramp.
    â€œOh, I know it’s going to be solid before the day’s over,” Mama said. “I’ve been praying about it and feel sure the job’s in the bag. But I really called to talk to you about your father. I, um . . . I hear he stopped by your place last night.”
    â€œBenita shouldn’t have told you.”
    My mother’s voice kept me from saying more. “Did he . . . I mean, is he planning to . . .”
    Come back home? Again?
    â€œI guess that’s your decision, Mama.” I pulled my car up to a stoplight and drew in a deep breath. “It’s between you and Daddy. It’s not really my business. Besides, he said he talked to you already.”
    â€œStill, you’re my oldest, Tia-mia. I lean on you for advice.”
    And a thousand other things.
    She continued, oblivious to my thoughts. “And yes, I talked to him, but I still can’t decide if he’s telling the truth this time. Did his apology seem real to you? Hmm, baby girl?”
    â€œMama, I’d really like to talk, but I’m almost to the studio. It’s Tuesday. You know what that means.”
    â€œYes. Tuesday is one of the most important days of the week.” Sounded like she was reading the words from a book or something. “It’s the day the cast and crew do a full run-through of the episode for the first time. You’ve told me a dozen times.”
    â€œExactly. And it’s the day when I have to stay focused and give direction.”
    Especially today, since we’re delivering a baby.
    â€œYou’ve never had a problem with focus, honey. Now, your little brother, he’s another story. Gabe’s teacher tried to tell me that she thinks he has ADHD and needs to be on medication. What do you think of that?”
    I think it’s about five years overdue, but I would never say that out loud.
    â€œJust one more thing to pray about, Mama,” I said. “Better hit your knees.”
    â€œWith as many children as I’ve got, I spend half my time on my knees and the other half wringing my hands. And when you factor your father into the equation . . .” She sighed. “Anyway, I spend a lot of time praying. And my knees are calloused.”
    No doubt.
    â€œI’ve spent a lot of time doing the