Uncle Charlie and my Summer Family Ch 3
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For the rest of the day Vi was transformed. Anything I asked of her, she did, without hesitation or complaint. My sister became focussed to a degree that I had never seen outside of her rehearsals, her usual playfulness reduced to a low simmer.
More importantly, she was happy. Her mood was the best it had been since we’d moved in. I could hear her humming in contentment as she buzzed through the hallways to organize and clean. There was a warm smile every time she came to me, asking for something else to do.
She wasn’t a new person. I’d seen facets of all this before, usually on set, where I had watched her work from the sidelines. This was her best self.
I broke work only to get fresh ingredients for dinner; Violet kept packing and cleaning while I was away. When I finally called a halt that evening, we’d accomplished twice what we had on any previous day. I felt as If I’d slid my fingers under a heavy weight, strained upwards, and finally sensed it lift and shift. I started dinner with a warm glow of achievement, only slightly soured by a sense of trepidation. Violet and I had spent most of the day at opposite ends of the house, crossing paths only to determine the next task. We’d never discussed what had happened that morning. I tried not to dwell on the possible directions of our dinner conversation as I cooked.
“Adaaaammmm,” Violet’s voice came down from upstairs. “Can you come help me?”
The paella was done: letting it stand for ten minutes or so would only improve the flavour. I removed the large pan from the stovetop, covered it with a dishcloth, and headed upstairs.
“Dinner’s almost ready.” I yelled from the hall. “Where are you?”
“In here.” Our father’s study.
Violet was sitting at the room’s massive mahogany desk, frowning at the screen of her laptop. “The studio sent me my sides for the first day. Half the lines will change before we shoot, but I’d like to get started on it anyway. I can’t get it to print.” One fingernail flicked the curved plastic shell of the printer.
“Have you tried turning it off and back on again?” I smirked, then held up a hand at her expression of fury. “Alright, alright. Let me take a look at it. Scoot over.”
Leaning over her machine, I glanced at the icon bouncing at the bottom of its display. “Huh. Looks like the wireless is out.” I glanced at the printer’s small screen. “But the printer still has an IP address. I can try resetting the modem, or...”
“Enough geek-speak. Just fixxxx it.” Violet was almost bouncing with impatience in the chair.
“Okay, okay.” I’d spotted some spare ethernet cables in one of the desk’s drawers when I’d been searching for a WiFi password during our first day in the house. I slid onto my back, threading a cable through the channels in the wood and up through a grommet. Under the desk, Violet’s thighs were open, the crotch of her shorts pulled up into a thin, ragged line of denim that barely covered her pubis.
“There. That should do it.” I crawled back out and tried the connection again. The printer whirred to life, a sheath of pages beginning to stack up on its tray.
“You did it!” Violet wrapped her arms around my shoulders and planted a kiss on the corner of my mouth. Her lips were warm and full against my skin, their firm touch held a fraction longer than usual before she pulled back. “Thank you, brother.”
“You’re welcome.” I smiled. “Come join me when it’s done?”
“Of course.” She was already riffling through the warm pages, eyes scanning her lines.
I scooped some of the paella up in a mussel’s half-shell and sucked it into my mouth, watching Violet read the pages silently until she turned over the last leaf with a sigh and took a long sip of her Spanish red. “How was it?”
“Well, I’m not killed off. At least in what I’ve read so far.” That had been a constant fear of hers through the first two seasons.
“And the plot?”
“There’s a few interesting new dynamics. Some possibilities there.”
“Good. How about your share of lines?”
“The same as the finale last season. Maybe a little more.”
I reached across the island and squeezed her hand with a smile. “I told you. They appreciate your work.”
“You did. You’ve always believed in me.” She curled her fingers in mine, squeezing back.
“Always.” I felt her fingertips stroking the inside of my wrist and drew my hand back across the cool granite.
We still hadn’t discussed the spanking; Violet had immediately buried herself in the script. What had happened still hung between us, silent, hovering like a ghost. Oddly, Violet’s obvious contentment made our extended avoidance of the topic more comfortable than it might have been otherwise; now the absence felt almost natural, like there was no need to talk about it at all.
“I’m sorry.” She waved a hand at her plate. “I’ve barely eaten...”
“It’s fine.” I poured a little more of the red for myself. “Stefan coming by again tomorrow?”
She groaned and nodded. “Every morning, until we start rehearsals.”
“Then you’ll need some calories. Take a few more bites, at least.”
“Okay. But it’s so hard to stop. It’s so good. You spoil me.”
“That’s not possible.”
She took a few more spoonfuls before pushing her plate away with obvious reluctance. “I can’t. Not with this script on my brain. Not with shooting in three weeks.” Her shoulders hunched as her head sank forward. “You know how I get before the first table read.”
“I do.” She wouldn’t be able to do anything else until she’d memorized her lines. “Why don’t you take a bath? Relax a little. Take the script with you.”
She raised her head and smiled. “That’s a really good idea.”
“I do have them.”
“You do.” Violet’s eyes looked around the kitchen.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean up here. You go relax.”
“You’re the best.” Hopping off her stool, my sister hugged me tightly. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”
“You’re worth it.”
“Movie later?” She looked up at me hopefully.
“I...” I wanted that. I wanted to feel her in my arms again. But I couldn’t. “I’m actually feeling a little tired. It’s been a long day. After I clean up here I think I’ll head to bed. Read for a bit before sleep.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
I’d just finished racking the dishes when I heard her call again. “Adaaaammmm...”
I flipped the dishwasher closed and headed upstairs, standing outside the bathroom door. “What is it?”
“Two things. I’d really appreciate it.” Her voice echoed off the tile inside, shimmering.
“Sure.”
“Help me run some lines? Just for one scene. And take a sponcon photo for me.”
“Um.” I placed my fingers against the door. “Okay. Are you...”
“Oh, Adam. Just come in.”
I pushed the door open.
The bathroom lights were off. Tiny flames gleamed in the mirror and reflected off black soapstone tile and white porcelain, flickering in the darkness. There were candles everywhere: along the edge of the tub, the vanity, even the floor. It smelled like I had stepped into a florist’s.
Surrounded by a nimbus of light like a Florentine Madonna, Vi’s head rested at one end of the tub. Her hair was pinned up, the dark tips of a few wet tendrils touching her shoulders. Everything else was hidden under a mountain of bubbles and white foam.
She rolled her head towards me and smiled. “I thought I’d use the tea lights you found.”
“Very nice.” I picked my way carefully between the tiny points of flame and sat on the lavatory’s lowered seat. “Feeling better?”
“Much.” She took a deep breath. The foam, glowing in the candlelight, settled and popped quietly. “But I’ll be even better when I get through this scene.”
I saw the stapled sheets beside the tub and picked them up, reading quickly. “This part?”
“Yeah.” Raising her hands above her head, she webbed her fingers together and stretched in the water. Her body arched for a moment, revealing a hint of her cleavage through the warm suds before her torso submerged again. “There’s more technobabble this season.”
Gigi
- 21.06.2020
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