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It’s that time of year when one day in Florida is divided into four seasons depending on the hour, so around summertime, at 2:00, I emerge onto the front porch of Tommy Lee’s cabin and breathe deeply the only vaguely humid air, stretch my arms and chest and smile into the mild breeze rustling the pine needles on the forest floor.
“Is it June yet?” Tommy asks as he steps out the door and stands beside me. He gives me a wink and rests a heavy hand on my shoulder, the sheer weight of it tugging me into his gravity well. “Fancy a stroll, darlin’?”
“Yeah, why not?” I say, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Pretty sure we should drop in on the movie set at some point anyway.”
My fifth husband nods once. “Whereabouts today?”
I pull out my phone from my pocket and check. “The call sheet Joliver sent blocked out the pool for the entire afternoon. I think they’re getting all the underwater shots in one go.”
“Sounds like a challenge,” he says with a tinge of a smile. “Shall we, then?”
***********
A few minutes later, as we walk up from behind the pool house, we first spot Jon standing sentry at the water spigots, both of which are hooked up to hoses snaking around toward the main pool area. He’s got his AirPods on, nodding his head to some kind of jam while he stares off into the middle distance as I walk up behind and tap him on the shoulder.
“Oh hey, bubbe, Tommy, good afternoon!” Jon says, half jolted out of his wits, then he very quickly turns serious and lowers his voice. “Sorry, they’re shooting right this moment, so we gotta lay low—”
“COUPÉ! COUPÉ!” Penélope’s voice rings out suddenly. “Cut! Cut the water!”
“Oh shit,” Jon curses, then whirls and hurriedly turns off the dripping spigots.
“OK, bueno, bueno,” we hear her say, “But Père Ken, make a bigger splash toward Auntie Tilly! Use both your arms! Maybe jump at the same time. And Papa, baissez la caméra un peu plus, right there, sí, sí. OK, set up again! Here we go… water, water water!”
Jon curses again and opens up the spigots all the way. “Hang back and I’ll announce you after she finishes this shot,” Jon says.
“ACTION!”
Tommy and I exchange knowing smiles as we listen to the splashing and commotion for a few minutes, both Tilda and Sir Ken’s voices booming out over the din at various points. Then there’s one big splash—sounding as if some small body leapt into the pool—and then Penélope’s voice calls out “COUPÉ!”
A big cheer rises up and Jon automatically cuts the water this time. Clapping ensues and then Jon leads us around the pool house, where Tommy and I finally behold an exclusive behind-the-scenes glimpse into our daughter’s cinematic dream. Sir Ken and Tilda, in full costume, tread water as both the wet-suited Stevezie and Jeff assist them in climbing out of the pool. Penélope herself, rendered less mobile by her sparkly tail, is carried toward the shallow end in her handsome prince Matt’s arms. Denis is at the opposite side, fiddling with a small homemade camera dolly/crane setup—a digital handheld attached to some kind of giant Erector Set contraption on top of a wagon—that’s half covered in plastic wrap. Stephen and Ryan are at the far end, safely behind a long foldout table, setting out snacks and pouring drinks into little plastic cups.
Jon leads us over toward Joliver, who is sitting at the nearest bistro table, diligently thumb typing into his phone. He’s half in costume: topless except for a pink shell-shaped bra, wearing a blonde wig, its long tresses gathered in one big braid draped over one shoulder. I try my damndest not to giggle.
“EXECS ON SET!” Jon calls out just as Joliver looks up at us, looking instantly nervous.
“Madam, Señor!” Joliver says, standing at attention. “Thank you for dropping by! May I interest you in refreshments? I believe we’ve just gone on a union break.”
I watch as Matt sets Penélope on a lounge chair and helps her out of her tail so she can scurry over to her father by the camera, eager to review the last few shots with her line producer/cinematographer.
“Looks like our money is being well spent,” Tommy Lee says with a smile as we follow Joliver to craft service. “How many scenes you get done today?”
“Oh, uh, about… five, I think,” Joliver says, scrolling through the script on his phone. “We’re on a roll. We’ve only got two more days of the shoot left, and I think we’ll come under budget.”
“Exactly what a producer likes to hear,” I say as we’re treated to Stephen and Ryan’s grinning faces. “Good afternoon, boys, what have you got for us?”
Stevezie and Jeffrey, still towelling off, come up beside us, water dripping from their hair onto the table.
“Hey, hey, dry off there, my friends!” Stephen says, tossing some napkins at my wet husbands before turning back to me, pointing out a big bowl of a familiar dip. “I’ve got a treat for you, Madam! Now, this isn’t to my taste, but I hear it’s pretty amazing: an exclusive Colbert family recipe for pimento cheese. Let me know if it’s up to snuff.”
I chuckle and grab a club cracker from a tray, then spread some of the cheese with a little knife on top. I take a bite and immediately raise my eyebrows in delight. I give him a thumbs up and he grins.
“And don’t forget to try my hummus, Madam!” Ryan adds, holding up another bowl. “I have a special trick to make it extra creamy.”
I take another cracker from the tray and dip it. “We all know your ice cube secret, Ry,” I say as I munch away. It is, indeed, deliciously smooth. “Well done, Beanpole.”
“Yeah that shit’s amazing,” Stevezie says as he starts filling a little paper plate with veggies and pita chips.
“I haven’t tried the pimento yet,” Jeff says as he scoops some from the bowl onto his own plate. “Being a pool spotter is hungry work, lemme tell ya.”
“I can see that,” I say, nodding at Stephen’s offer of a little cup of cranberry juice. “Thank you, both of you, for your culinary expertise.”
I turn and watch as Tilda sets aside her own wild black-and-white fright wig and Ken dabs at his bare chest before they too stroll over to join us. “You two look incredible,” I say between bites of cracker. “I love it.”
“Thank you, Madam,” Ken says with a little bow before giving me a quick wet kiss on the cheek. “Could I get a hot tea, Ryan, thank you, sir.”
“I’ll have the same,” Tilda says as she touches my arm, then leans down to whisper in my ear. “It’s been quite a treat working with so many slick, wet males today. Especially that Matthew.”
I snort and wink at her. “He’s been claimed already, Tilly, tread lightly.”
We both sneak a glance at Matt then, clad in ragged brown trousers and a white button-down shirt that’s clinging translucently to his chest and arms. He rubs his long, glorious hair dry with a big yellow towel as he makes his way over to us. “Hello, Madam! What a treat to have you on set! Whaddya think of our production?”
“Oh I can’t wait to see the rushes, for sure. Are you having fun?”
Matt beams, jabs a thumb over his shoulder toward where Penélope and Denis are still futzing with the camera. “It’s a job working for her, but boy is it lovely. She’s so precise, but without stepping on your toes, you know? Leaves room for actor input.”
I nod proudly. “She’s learned from the best.”
Joliver tosses his braid over his shoulder and announces aloud to the group: “You have twenty minutes before we start up again, folks! Crunch, munch, and loo ASAP!”
“Papi, Papi, Papi, popcorn!” Penélope cries out as she hurries over, nearly slipping as she turns a corner behind the table to grab Ryan’s waist. “Popcorn!”
“Yes, sweetie, I’ve got you covered!” Ryan says, handing her a bag of her favorite white cheddar-flavoured treat. “How are the shots looking?”
Penélope pops open the bag and crams a handful in her mouth while vehemently nodding up at him.
“Oh that good, eh?” Ryan says.
“Je vais prendre un café, s’il te plait,” Denis says as he finally makes his way over to us. He reaches over the table just as Stephen hands over a styrofoam cup of the hot beverage. “Merci, Stephen, I’m running out of steam, I think.”
“How’s life as a DP?” I ask him as I pat his back.
“I haven’t done my own camera work since I was very young,” Denis says before he quickly sips his drink. “I will say I have learned that I am no Roger Deakins!”
I laugh. “Awe, so you’re never gonna be your own cinematographer like Alfonso did for Roma?”
“I have so much respect for him and anyone who can do that,” Denis says in deference, “But as you know, I am a single-minded guy and I can only focus on one thing at a time. That is one big way Penélope is not taking after me. She can do everything!”
“Are you sure she’s not actually Ken’s?” Tilda interjects, eliciting a round of laughs.
Penélope blushes, but lifts her chin proudly all the same. “I will write, direct, edit, and act in all my movies!” she announces definitively between bites of popcorn. “But I will still need someone to do music.”
“I can put in a word with Patrick Doyle, my dear,” Sir Ken suggests. “If he can do my Cinderella, I think this project would be right up his street.”
Penélope’s eyes brighten. “Ouais, ouais, please, Père Ken, please!”
“That’s a swell idea, Kenny,” Tilda says as she daintily sips her tea. “You think he can turn something around in a few weeks?”
Ken grins. “Oh sure, anything for an old friend.”
“Wow, thank you, Sir, you’re a life-saver,” Denis says, then turns to Penélope. “It took me ages to get contacts of such high calibre, mon chou. Je suis jaloux.”
Penélope giggles and tugs at Ryan’s sleeve. “Je besoin Capri-Sun.”
Ryan mimes smacking his head with his palm. “Oh, yes, of course, yes, they’re in the cooler there.”
“Well, I’ll approve the composer, how about you, darlin’?” Tommy Lee asks.
I give a thoughtful nod, as if I had to give it more than a moment’s debate. “You got my vote.”
“Woohoo!” our daughter exclaims. “Estupendo!”