Filmed_ An Alpha Bad Boy Romance(64)

Chapter Twenty-Two


Noah dropped the heavy brown box onto my living room floor and let out a breath.

“Last one,” he said.

“I can’t believe how much stuff she gave us.”

We stood staring down at a stack of eight boxes, each full of pictures, cassettes, VHS tapes, DVDs, books, scraps of paper, and more. Noah had asked Miss H to give us some stuff to look through in order to get some establishing shots for the film, but he didn’t expect her to unload a lifetime’s worth of memories in one sitting. Noah had just spent the last ten minutes lugging them up the stairs while I began to catalogue their contents.

He collapsed on the couch. I could tell he was sweating slightly through his slim fitting white button down shirt and his tight black jeans.

“So what’s in there?” he asked.

I knelt down in front of the box I had just opened. “Pictures, mostly.”

“Excited to sort through it all?”

“Yes and no, honestly.”

I sifted through the pictures and pulled a stack out. I began to look through them, one at a time, and realized I didn’t recognize a single person in any of them. I knew a little bit about Miss H, though mostly just the broad strokes. She had tried to give us a little more information, but she was frustratingly difficult. She had a tendency to wander down pointless tangents.

Noah slipped off the couch and joined me, taking out a stack and sorting through it.

“I don’t know anyone in these,” I said quietly.

“I know a few.”

“Noah, how are we going to do this? I mean, how can we piece together a person’s whole life?”

He laughed and shook his head. “We can’t.”

“What do you mean? That’s the whole point.”

“Look, dots, we can’t possibly do her justice that way. We’ll have to get the important stuff down.”

I sighed. “Seems wrong, I guess. To leave all these people out.”

He grinned at me. “Aren’t there people in your life that you’d rather not make it into your documentary?”

I looked back at him thoughtfully. “I think I could name one right here.”

“Please. I’d have a starring role.”

“Maybe as the villain.”

He shifted closer to me, smirking. “Is that because I’m so bad?”

I rolled my eyes. “Cut it out.”

“I can’t help it around you, dots.”

There was a short pause while he looked at me, and for a brief moment I thought he was being completely honest. But the moment passed, and he went back to sorting through the pictures one at a time.

It took us a while to get through the box, but at the end we had it broken down into two big piles: one with pictures we might want to use, and another with pictures we definitely didn’t want. I slipped the discard pictures back into the box, and opened another.

“What’s the prize?”

“More pictures.”

He groaned. “Maybe this was a horrible mistake.”

“Backing out already?”

He sighed. “No, not getting rid of me that easily.”

We dove back in, silently sorting the pictures into two main piles. As we worked, I kept stealing glances at him. It had been a week since we met with Miss H at her apartment, and he had stopped by the theater a few times since then. In fact, I had seen him almost every day. We were busy scheduling time to interview Miss H, trying to get a visual narrative of her life, and generally setting up the documentary. It was a lot of work, but I was shocked at how willing Noah was to get down to it. Things might not have been what they once were, but they were at least comfortable.

When it came to the technical stuff, he was better with the equipment than I was. But in terms of blocking out the scenes and creating the overarching thematic movement of the piece, I was shockingly good. He told me that he was impressed by how quickly I was able to boil down Miss H’s life into the high points. I had originally thought that would be the most difficult part, but I tackled it head on. Noah managed to get people from Miss H’s past to agree to do interviews with us. He was as charming as ever, and people tended to fall over themselves to agree with him.

More than that, though, he looked healthy again. He had been actively going to meetings with Ellie, and it showed. The gaunt look in his eyes was completely gone, although the memory of his strung-out appearance still haunted me sometimes. But he looked like his old self again, and I had to admit that I liked it.

“Hey, check this out,” he said, breaking the silence.

I scooted over closer to him and peered over his shoulder. He was holding an old faded photograph of a young, beautiful girl in makeup. It looked like an old headshot.