The Deal

Thirty-One-Bernadette

"You were late again," Khosa reminds me for the fifteenth time in all the days I've worked on set. He sighs and shakes his head. "Well, I hope you remembered to read the new script this time."

"Khosa, I always do," I retort, but instantly regret my words. A day has passed and I haven't even looked at, touched, or read through the script at all. My pulse rate quickens as thoughts of the director yelling at me to do another take haunt me. The paparazzi would find me and harass me with even weirder questions; "Hey, Bernadette, what are you going to do now that you're fired by your own best friend? How does it feel like to have your best friend tell you that you now suck at acting, but you can't defend yourself because it's the only thing you believe you're good at? How does it feel like to be an utter disappointment?"

What is Yvonne going to say now?

"Bernie. Please, tell me you've gone through the new script. Did you rehearse?" A speck of hope glows from Khosa's smile, especially the way he expressed the last word. I think he knows that I've done nothing to prepare for this shoot. I'm so sorry, Khosa, I imagine myself saying, the moment I got it, I absolutely forgot I even had it. I think I must have read the first page at least. Or the second. Oh yeah, I remember. I dozed off at the second page and slept for a whole twenty-four hours because I'm that lazy. Thabo didn't even remind me to go through the script because I hadn't kept him informed.

"Like I said, Khosa, I have," I reply instead. I even bought back the sassiness like I always do when I'm talking to an annoying ass like Khosa.

"That's great. I'm sure you'll definitely steal the show with your Oscar-worthy performance." He snickers quietly as he saunters off. Is he mocking me? He halts and looks me over his shoulder. "Well, that is, if you're barely in this episode." His snort echoes in my ears, but I don't have time for a witty comeback because I need to steal the remaining time I have to go through the script. I scramble off the chair and sprint past crew members carrying cameras and other equipment around. I realize I'm even breathing loudly. Specks of sweat trickle around my forehead. I'm not going to have a panic attack again, I tell myself.

I need to calm the hell down. Oh, Gosh, how will Yvonne get me out of this one? She was right. I have to be replaced. I've lost my charm. The charismatic performer in me was gone the minute I woke up from the coma. This isn't healthy for my slow recovery, and I should learn to take care of myself instead of trying to please people all the time. I remember that I don't even like acting. It's just not interesting for me anymore. It's no wonder everyone says I was depressed.

My eyes start to water as I slowly make my way back to my trailer.

"There she goes again." Wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my red turtleneck shirt, I turn to spot my young co-star, Puleng's daughter, stuffing her mouth with potato chips while seated on the couch; the same prop we've been using for all episodes. I watch as tiny chip crumbs fall on the expensive furniture. The crew members around pretend she's a ghost.

"Are they going to kick you out?" she asks me, but I don't even know how to answer. I believe this is the first time I've had a proper interaction with her off-set. The little girl takes out her phone and records. "What's up, everyone! Lookey what the cat dragged in. It's Bernadette Amara and she's sad because they might replace her next season."

Before I can shut her up, a hand taps my shoulder. "Hi! It's so good to see you again, Bernadette!" It's the Co-Star-Whose-Name-I-Keep-On-Forgetting. She embraces me in a cuddly bear hug, giving me the scent of her hair cream. Of course, I expect her to show up and ask for a selfie so her followers can know her daily status. "Oh my, are you okay? Were you about to cry or something? I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."

"No, of course not." I break into a wide grin to mask the frustration. I gesture for her to take the picture. She snaps the photo after our awkward pose and then steps back to grin at me. She's really beautiful, though, with the kinky hair and burgundy turtleneck, which looks strangely similar to mine. "Look, I know I may be a bit of a pain in the ass with the constant selfies and for that, I'm sorry. I realize I might be overdoing it a little. You're probably thinking I'm a bit insensitive, right?"

"Not true at all. I love the selfies." There you go again, Bernadette, trying to paint yourself with a positive image.

My co-star shakes her head. "Just wanted to give you my moral support and say that, I'm so glad they didn't decide to kick you out. If you leave the show, I'm walking away with you. Plain and simple. You're the reason I signed on to do this." She pats me on the shoulder before walking in her direction.

"What's your name?" She doesn't look surprised at my question; she only smiles warmly. "Filenne. Filenne Johnson."

I raise my brows. It's no wonder I keep forgetting a name like that. My attention returns to the child star. Since I've had enough of her acting like she owns the whole set every time, I shuffle toward her. Puleng would teach her children a valuable lesson, so I channel her persona. I rest both hands on my waist, just like my character would do, and clear my throat. The child star diverts her attention from the phone, shooting me a confused look. A crew member from a distance away watches me nervously.

"We're going to use this for the shoot, and anytime now, they're going to call us. You're aware of that, right?"

Suddenly, the crew members around me halt what they're doing and glance at me in utter silence. It feels as if I said a word that I'm not allowed to say onset or something. This is pretty surreal.

The child star doesn't budge but continues filling her mouth with chips. "I'm hungry and tired," she replies with a shrug.

Entitled brat. "You shouldn't be sitting on that. It costs more than what they're giving you."

She giggles and eats more chips. "You look very different. I heard you were in a coma for, like, so long. How did it feel like?"

I scoff. "Plastic surgery did that, I......" The sudden image flashes before my eyes. A little girl. Faceless. Tiny feet kicking back and forth. A bowl of soup's clutched in her tiny hands. When she eats, the tiny drops spill on the couch, which makes me mad. I hurry towards her and raise my voice. I tell her to get off the couch. Very timidly, she gets up and walks away. Her head is bowed to the floor, and it's as if she's too shy to even look at me. I let out a tiny gasp.

When the sound of hurried footsteps fills my ears, I notice that I'm still staring at my child co-star, who is now typing on her phone and eating. A hand grips my right arm and I'm dragged out of the kid's sight.

"Damn you, Bernadette," Khosa whispers, shoving his ugly face in my sigh. "What kind of stunt are you trying to pull?"

"Hiya, Khosy!" The child star bellows with a tiny wave before going back to her phone.

I snap out of the flashback. "Stunt? I was doing your job for you."

"Nonsense. You've got amnesia, so lemme re-educate you." He points at the girl. "Never make her upset. If she reports or complains to her parents, they will seize this entire production, and your career as Puleng is over. We'll all be doomed."

I fold my arms and sulk. "I'm sorry."

"Trust me, you will be if you keep on pushing her. Do not speak to her if you value your career, because Yvonne will not be able to get you out of this one."