Legacy, page 6
“And?”
“People are always running scams and stuff, so I wanted to take a look. Your mom seriously killed your dad.”
It wasn’t the first time someone had prodded her on it, but Adrian had to admit, Loren hit the most direct.
“He wasn’t my dad, he was my biological father. And he was trying to kill me at the time.”
“How come?”
“Because he was drunk and mean and maybe crazy. I don’t know. It was the first and the last I’d seen of him. And since it was almost ten years ago, it’s not relevant to any of this.”
“Jesus, Loren, let it go.” Teesha gave him a solid poke with her elbow. “Didn’t your uncle do time for insider trading?”
“Well yeah, but that’s a white-collar crime, not—”
“Said by the whitest white boy in white boy history,” Teesha tossed back. “Loren’s family’s the WASPiest of the WASPs. Three generations of high-class, high-priced lawyers.”
“So he likes to argue,” Adrian said.
“You got that. You say up, Loren’s going to say down and go off about it for an hour.”
“Up depends on where you’re standing.”
Teesha poked him again. “Don’t get him started.”
“Well, we’re standing down here, so we’re going in, then up. Hi, George.”
The doorman gave Adrian a big smile as he opened the door. “How was school today?”
“Same as always. This is Hector. And Teesha and Loren. They’ll be visiting now and again.”
“All right. You all have a real nice day.”
As they crossed the fragrant lobby with its small, exclusive shops, Adrian took out her key swipe. She passed the banks of elevators to one marked PRIVATE. PENTHOUSE A.
“If you decide to come Saturday, I’ll give your names to security and the desk. The desk will call up, and I can release the elevator to bring you up.”
“How high up are you?” Loren asked as they got on.
“Forty-eighth floor. That’s the rooftop level.”
“Uh-oh,” Teesha murmured as Loren blanched. “He’s got a thing about heights.”
Since that hadn’t come out in her research on him, she turned to him now with genuine sympathy.
“Sorry. You don’t have to come out to the terrace.”
“It’s no big.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “No big. I’m cool on it. I’m cool.”
The opposite thereof, Adrian thought, as he already had a little bead of sweat sliding down his right temple.
But she let it go. Nobody liked being embarrassed.
“Well, anyway, you’d take the other elevator on Saturday, and that would bring you to the main level, front door. You need a swipe for this way, then the alarm code.”
Teesha wiggled her eyebrows. “Swank.”
And Adrian shrugged. “My mother likes swank.”
The elevator opened into Lina’s home gym. A rack of free weights ran along a mirrored wall, and racks and shelves—stability balls, yoga mats and blocks, exercise bands, jump ropes, medicine balls, and kettlebells—flanked it.
A huge flat screen dominated the wall over a long, narrow gas fireplace. In the small, open kitchen area, energy drinks filled a wine fridge. A glass-front cabinet held Yoga Baby water bottles.
A wall of glass doors opened to the expansive terrace, and the city beyond.
“No machines?” Teesha wandered the space.
“Your body’s the machine, in my mother’s world.”
“Well, organic complexities are different from mechanical complexities.”
“The Terminator had both organic and mechanical complexities,” Loren pointed out.
“We’re years from Skynet,” Teesha pointed out. “Anyway, I get she means you use your body, your body weight, keep it in tune and all that.”
Adrian waited a beat. “Right. There’s a bathroom around the left of the kitchen if anybody needs it.” Adrian unlocked and pulled open the glass doors. “I want to do the videos out here.”
“Awesome.” Hector stepped out. “Awesome. We’ll want to move the furniture, have a clear space.” He glanced over to the hot tub humming under its cover on a platform. “And turn that off. You get some city noises, even way up here, but that’ll just add to it. Shoot this way, you get the river in the background.”
“And the sunrise,” Adrian added. “For the sunset shoots, we go the other way. You could see the Chrysler Building, the Empire State. I’m not sure what’s best for late morning or afternoon. I just want different angles.”
“Yeah, yeah. I can maybe hit my dad up for some equipment, bounce the light. Maybe he’d let me use his good camera.”
“Hector’s dad’s a cinematographer.” Loren spoke from just inside the doorway, where he’d stopped. And stayed. “He’s on Blue Line—the cop show. So, is there like anything to drink besides that health stuff? Like, you know, sodas?”
“Banned in this house—but I’ll get some for Saturday. There’s juice down in the main kitchen.”
“I’ll live without it.”
“Okay, so …” Hector did another walk around, studying angles. “Can we do like a rehearsal, one segment, get a solid feel?”
“Oh, sure. I need to change. I can’t work out in this.”
“How about you do that?” Teesha said. “Me and Hector can move some of the furniture. Loren can go out and maybe buy some Cokes.”
“There’s a shop right off the lobby downstairs if you want.” Adrian walked back, dug into her backpack, and took out ten dollars. “On me.”
“Cool.”
By the time Adrian had changed into yoga pants and a tank, Hector and Teesha had muscled two tables, two sofas, and a chair to the far side of the terrace.
She brought out a yoga mat, angled it so she faced southeast.
“I tested this out the other day, and you should be able to get me, the river, the sunrise.”
“I’m gonna video with my camera, just to test it. I mean, the light’ll be different and all that jazz, but we can check the timing, the angles, and I can plan better.”
“Great.” She glanced back as the elevator opened. Loren put her swipe on top of her backpack, then set the bag on the counter in the kitchen.
“Got Cokes, got some chips and stuff.”
Adrian thought of her mother, and had to laugh. “That would be the first time either of those came into this place since we moved in.”
“Man, what do you eat?”
“You mean for snacks?” Adrian smiled at Loren as he passed out Cokes. “Fruit, raw veggies, hummus, almonds, baked sweet potato fries are sometimes acceptable. It’s not so bad. I’m used to it.”
“Your mom’s way strict.”
“Fitness and nutrition? That’s her religion. She practices what she preaches, so it’s hard to bitch too much. Anyway.” She stepped to the front of her mat. “I want to do this, like I said, without the vocals, then voice-over after.”
“Fifteen, right?” Teesha pulled out her phone. “I’ll time it.”
She’d practiced the routine countless times, tweaked it until she felt it met her goals. A gentle and, well, pretty morning salute to the sun.
She let her mind go.
Since she was used to camera and crew when she did videos with her mother, Hector and the others didn’t distract her. When she ended with Savasana, she added the vocals.
“I’m going to talk this part out now, so you don’t think I’ve just fallen asleep. The voice-over’s going to instruct how to breathe, how to empty the mind, allow the body to fully let go. Relaxing from the toes, to the ankles, the shins, and up the body, how to visualize soft colors or light on inhales, expel dark and stress on the exhales.”
“You’ve got like ninety seconds left,” Teesha told her.
“That’s right. I’ll say to stay in Savasana as long as they like, then …”
She stretched out, arms overhead, before turning on her side, knees drawn up. Smoothly, she rolled into a cross-legged position on the center of the mat.
“Meditation position,” she said, putting her right palm over her left, thumbs touching. “Breathing in and out, blah blah.” She crossed her arms over her midsection, bowed forward. “Thanking yourself for showing up, holding the practice in, then …”
She sat up again, put her palms together, bowed her head. “Namaste. That’s it.”
“Fifteen minutes, four seconds.” Lips pursed, Teesha nodded. “That’s really good.”
“You’re really bendy.” Loren had edged out onto the terrace to sit on one of the sofas and munch chips. “I can’t even touch my toes.”
“Flexibility’s important. The thing is, a flexible person has to go farther than an inflexible one to get any benefit.” She could help him, she thought again. “Stand up, try to touch your toes.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s only embarrassing when you don’t try.”
He gave her a doubtful look but bent over from the waist, arms down. His fingertips didn’t come within six inches of his toes.
“You’re feeling the stretch.”
“Shit, yeah!”
She mimicked his pose. “I get nothing, nothing until I go all the way down.” She stretched down, palms on the floor, nose to her knees. “We’re getting the same benefit. Stand up, now inhale. No, when you inhale, you’re inflating the balloon. Fill your lungs, extend the belly.”
“Mine’s extended twenty-four-seven.” He laughed with it; so did the others. Adrian only smiled. “Just try it. Inhale, fill the balloon. Now you’re going to deflate it, drawing the belly to the spine as you bend over to touch your toes.”
When he tried it, she nodded. “And that’s already a full inch closer. Breathing. It’s all about the breath.”
She glanced over, saw Hector leaning against the wall, studying his camera display.
“How does it look?”
“It’s okay. I can study it and work out the angles. I can talk my dad into letting me use some stuff. You’re going to need to be mic’d for the other stuff, and you need like an introduction or opening bit, right?”
“Yeah, I’ve been working on it. Oh, thanks.” She took the Coke Teesha handed her, drank without thinking. Then stopped, closed her eyes. “Okay, that’s so freaking good.”
“I’ve got about twenty before I have to get home.” Hector switched off the video. “Maybe we could go over the opening, and the transitions between each segment.”
“We could storm the brain tomorrow.” Loren tried another toe touch. “At lunch period if you want to risk sitting with us two days in a row.”
“I’ll risk it.”
By the time they left, and Adrian disposed of empty Coke bottles and chip bags, she realized she hadn’t just found the production team for her pet project.
She’d found her tribe.
They brainstormed at lunch, rehearsed, and worked on details after school.
On Friday evening, she ordered pizza, stocked drinks. She helped her crew set up the equipment Hector scored. The light stand and barn doors and gels for evening shoots, the bounce, the umbrella for afternoons, the mic, the cables.
They managed to set up a makeshift studio with what Hector had begged or borrowed.
They ate pizza in the main level dining room with Loren’s playlist of ’80s hits rocking out.
With Wham! demanding to be waked up, Adrian finally had to ask. “Why the eighties?”
“Why not?”
“Because none of us were born?”
He pointed a finger. “That’s a why, not a why not. It’s history, dude. Music history. I’m thinking of doing one of the nineties next. You know, to analyze the societal fabric—where music plays into it—during our birth decade.”
“That is totally nerd.”
“Accepted.” He bit into another slice. “I dig on music, man.”
“The Music Man,” Teesha said between bites. “Robert Preston, Shirley Jones—the movie version, 1962. Preston also played the lead in the 1957 Broadway production, with Barbara Cook as Marian.”
“How do you know that?” Adrian stared in wonder. “And why?”
“She reads it, she remembers it,” Hector supplied.
“Hey, I should do a playlist of Broadway musical scores. Now that is total nerd.”
“You get right on that, son.” Hector glanced around. “This is an awesome space.”
“Says the kid who lives in a mansion every other week and a penthouse not unlike this one the next.” Teesha gulped some Coke.
Hector just shrugged. “Parents split, so I bounce between. Step-parents are okay, so far. And I got a little bro from the dad, little sis from the mom. They’re cool.”
“I used to want siblings. I had to get over it because that’s never happening. What about you?” Adrian asked Teesha.
“Two older brothers, and parents stuck together like glue. The brothers are mostly okay, except when they’re pains in my ass.”
“Sister.” Loren peeled a pepperoni off the pizza, popped it into his mouth. “She’s ten. Parents separated for a few months back when, worked it out, got back together, and out popped Princess Rosalind. Kind of a brat.”
“Kind of?” Teesha said with a laugh.
“Okay, a complete brat, but she’s way spoiled, so it’s not her fault so much. You got the only child deal,” he said to Adrian. “All the attention.”
“My mother’s career gets that, and I get what’s left. That’s okay,” she said quickly. “It means she’s not on my back most of the time. And I’m going to have my own career. You guys are helping me start that.”
“And when you’re a YouTube star …” Teesha heaved a big, exaggerated sigh. “We’ll still be the three nerds while you sit at the cool kids’ table.”
“Not a chance. And since it’s the nerd table for me for the duration, I should be an honorary nerd.”
“No honorary about it. You are a nerd,” Hector told her. “You drink carrot juice and eat granola on purpose. Your mom’s gone for a couple weeks, but you’re working instead of running on the wild side. You’re the fitness nerd.”
She’d never considered herself a nerd, by any standards, but when she’d finished her bedtime yoga practice and slipped under the covers by ten, she realized the term applied.
And she really didn’t mind.
CHAPTER FIVE
They started before dawn on Saturday morning. Adrian had what she called “craft services” set up with juices, bagels, fresh fruit, and since she’d learned all three of her friends went for fancy coffee, a pod coffee maker with a variety.
She’d have to store that in her room afterward, as Lina ran a strict no-caffeine household.
Pleased with the first segment—the light had been perfect—she went down to change her gear, maybe her hair before starting the next.
Teesha went with her as wardrobe assistant.
If it surprised Teesha that Adrian stripped down to the skin without a blush once the bedroom door closed, she tried to pretend otherwise.
“I was going to see if I can get my hair pinned back, but unless I spray it with concrete, it probably won’t stay through fifteen of cardio dance.”
Teesha pursed her lips as Adrian wiggled into sleek, snug, midcalf leggings. “Why don’t you braid the sides, pin those back?”
“Braids?” Adrian pulled on a matching blue sports bra. “With this hair?”
“Hey, I got Black girl hair. You see these braids? I can do it. What product you got?”
Adrian slipped a bright pink tank over the bra. And since she’d choreographed a hip-hop-influenced routine, she’d tie a plaid hoodie around her waist and wear high-tops.
“All of them, out of desperation and despair.”
“Sit down, girlfriend. I got this.”
And she did. Adrian stared in the mirror, awed with the results. “I can’t believe it. It’s a miracle. It looks cute and, you know, funky, but contained. You’re going to have to teach me.”
“Can do.” Teesha smiled into the mirror. “It’s nice, you know, having another girl join the club. I got me some balance now. You know, Rizz, maybe you can teach me some of the yoga stuff. It looks like fun.”
“It is fun. I’ll teach you.”
The cardio dance segment was fun, too. It took three takes before she and the others signed off with Loren working the audio, Hector the camera, and Teesha moving between both.
By the time the lunch she’d ordered in arrived, they had three segments. They fit in two more before the dinner break, and finished the day with the evening yoga at sunset.
“I didn’t think we could get so much done in one day. That only leaves the total body session, the voice-overs, and the introduction.” Adrian flopped down on one of the outdoor sofas. “Maybe I’ll work in a ten-minute ab bonus.”
“I’m going to burn a copy,” Hector decided. “I want to play around a little.”
“Like how?”
“Just try some stuff. No problemo if it doesn’t work, we’ve got the master. How about we start at like ten tomorrow? We keep up this pace, it’s done by one or two. Some production, editing, la-di-da, we get it up by the end of the week. If we need to reshoot anything, we can work that in, but I think we’re good.”
“That would be amazing.”
By the time they left, ravaging through any lunch and dinner leftovers, it neared midnight. Adrian stretched out in bed and smiled into the dark.
She had friends, she had work, she had a path, and she knew just where she intended to go on it.
* * *
They rolled right into it with Adrian doing the intro first so she wouldn’t get sweaty or need another change. She looked right into the camera, the city at her back.
“Hi, I’m Adrian Rizzo, and this is About Time.” She slid into her spiel, highlighting each segment, emphasizing the fifteen-minute length, the ability to do one, do a combination.
“You’re good at this,” Hector told her. “I hang with my dad sometimes when he’s shooting. The actors never—hardly ever—get it in one take.”
“I practiced. A lot.”
“It was solid, but let’s do a second take, just backup. And you could move around more. I’ll follow you.”
