normal bunch, so don’t be nervous.”
“I won’t be as long as you’re around to keep things sane.”
“I’m on the set every day, except most Fridays. If things do get crazy, and they can…or if stuff starts to unravel, I’ll do what I can to help you sort it all out.”
“I’m sure it won’t take long for everything to fall into place,” Taye replied with a self-assurance that made Jewel flinch.
Unable to hold back any longer, Jewel launched the question that had been uppermost in her mind since he sat down. “What got you interested in directing daytime drama? Are you a longtime soap fan?”
“Not at all,” he quickly and laughingly confessed. “But I do appreciate the genre and I love a great romance. The Terror Train films incorporate romantic subplots with passionate, star-crossed lovers. They provide a nice respite from all the action…and encourage both the men and women to see the movies.”
Sounds reasonable, Jewel thought, while not thoroughly convinced that Taye completely understood what he was getting into. “Okay, you like romance and action, but still…if your expertise is action flicks, isn’t this a huge departure from the genre you’re most comfortable with?” It was time to get real, get down to the essence of who Taye Elliott was and why he thought he could direct The Proud and the Passionate.
Settling back in his chair, Taye went calm, assessing Jewel with vaguely sensuous eyes. “This is how it happened,” he started. “I guess I was in the right place at the right time and had the right vibes working for me. Like surviving an accidental collision that has positive results, you know?”
“Accident? Collision? No, sorry. I don’t understand at all.” Jewel tossed a questioning look at Fred, who mugged innocence and shrugged. Did Taye just compare directing P & P to a car wreck? A crash? No surprise there. With an obvious sigh of frustration, she launched her next zinger. “How exactly did you get in line to be P & P’s next director?”
Taye flashed Jewel a magnetic smile. “I’m happy to explain.”
Jewel bent forward, anxious for the story behind this surprising development.
Taye squinted at Fred, appearing uneasy, confirming Jewel’s suspicion that her question may have caught him off guard. “Well…you see,” Taye began. “Richie Farral, who produced the action movies that I directed, is Arthur Platt’s half brother.”
“The Arthur Platt?” Jewel had to cut Taye off. “The former CEO of CBC?”
“Right. So, I was talking to Richie about my plans after Terror Train, and he mentioned his relationship with Arthur Platt.”
Jewel went slack-jawed while listening to Taye, slightly annoyed by how casually he was tossing around the names of major players in the industry. Richie Farral was up there with Spielberg and Eastwood and Lucas. And Arthur Platt was the legendary founder of the network that carried her show, a hard-nosed billionaire rarely seen in public and not known to be a generous man.
“So I told Richie I was open for a change, you know? A project that would challenge me,” Taye was saying as Jewel struggled to concentrate. “A few days later, Richie called to tell me that Platt had alerted him to this temporary gig for a director for a daytime drama, so I took a meeting with CBC and here I am.”
Now, she was truly annoyed. “Oh, really? It was that easy?”
“Yep. Wasn’t much more to it,” Taye confessed.
The ring of pride in his snappy reply sent blood rushing into Jewel’s head. A flicker of anger propelled her next comment. “So, The Proud and the Passionate is your test case? An experiment to gauge your ability to direct a daytime drama?”
Taye scoffed a laugh. “No, nothing like that.”
“No, not at all,” Fred jumped in in support of the studio’s pick.
But Jewel wasn’t about to let either of them off so easily. “Sounds like P & P is little more than a guinea-pig project as far as you’re concerned,” she threw at Taye, not particularly liking what she’d heard and letting her displeasure show. To her, the whole thing smacked of a good-old-boy hire—done quickly to fill a gap, with little thought to how such a snap decision might affect the cast.
Now, Fred Warner leaned low on one elbow, close to Jewel, obviously concerned about where this exchange was headed. “Nothing like that is going on, Jewel. Taye’s got what we…”
“Wait a minute, Fred,” Taye interrupted, slicing the air at chest level with a sweep of one hand. “I can speak for myself. I’d like to clear up Ms. Blaine’s concerns.”
“All right with me. Have at it.” Jewel sat back, ready to listen.
Turning to Jewel, Taye rounded his shoulders, gave her a quiet stare and then said, “You need to know that I’m a man who is constantly learning. Maybe that’s why I went into stunt work in the first place. Every scene, every stunt, every movie was different and I like that, as well as the challenges that come with each new film. I view risky situations as opportunities to push myself, to see how far I can go with my talent and the talent of the actors. Daytime drama will expand my experience, diversify my body of work. I view every project as a collaborative effort to perfect a common creative vision.”
“But what if the creative visions of the actor and the director are traveling separate paths?” Jewel tested, having no idea what his creative vision for P & P might be or if she’d share it once she knew. How could a hunky stunt guy whose head was filled with images of fiery action sequences and love scenes in the backs of race cars possibly grasp the nuanced passion, silky romance and complicated personal relationships that made up a daytime drama? A long shot, at best, Jewel decided.
“If there’s disagreement, then we compromise, of course. It’s all about working together to get the best footage in the can, isn’t it?” Taye asked.
A short hesitation while Jewel considered his remark, thankful that at least his answer had a ring of sincerity. Compromise was good. Working together was vital and she had no choice but to cooperate fully with Taye. After all, she had legions of loyal fans and was committed to protecting her hard-won reputation as a dependable actress who never failed to deliver exactly what her fans expected. And, she reminded herself, Taye Elliott was only a temporary hire. She’d be at P & P long after he was gone.
Forcing a more rational attitude into play, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Good approach,” she tossed back, a bit warmer. “You’re absolutely right. We all want what’s best for the show.”
Taye sagged back in his seat, seemingly relieved to have passed that hurdle. “I’ve met with Lori, your head writer, and I’m up on the current relationships, but I could still use some help with the backstory on Caprice and Darin’s long-standing love affair.”
“Sure, it’s very complicated. How can I help?” Jewel offered.
“I was wondering,” Taye started, followed by a slight hesitation. “If it’s not an imposition, think you, Sonny and I might squeeze in an hour or so tomorrow to go over a few areas of the current story line?”
In the lull that followed, Jewel calculated her answer. Should she agree? Demonstrate her willingness to help? Or let him know that Jewel Blaine had other things
