Chapter Text
Madrid, 20:32
"Vamos, uno, dos, tres y...acción!"
Zulema Zahir sat in her leather chair, the one that bore her name engraved on it. She was the best-known director and screenwriter in the whole of Spain. She had created real shows that ended up on international platforms and had been the only one capable of creating and directing them independently. The final cut of her most recent film was happening in front of her eyes, not as she would have preferred though.
She rose from her seat with a snort and approached the actress she had chosen for the role of Patricia in "El amor de Tu Miedo". Knowing Zahir, Saray, the secretary who tried to follow the scene with headphones on, had understood what was going through the head of her best friend. The brunette would have liked to fire the young woman right there and then, and she would have done so if only Saray hadn't prevented her from doing just that before they went to the set. She had understood it was not a good day for the brunette. She'd noticed it from the way she tightened her lips and arm rest, making her knuckles noticeably white, or from where she'd parked on set, literally 200 meters from the rest of the crew.
"Elisa, escúchame"
She said with her hands on her temples.
"Sabes lo que pasa cuando alguien te deja?"
The girl nodded lowering her gaze. It was certainly not the first time they had shot such a scene, a heavy scene even for Zulema herself, who as ambitious as she was, needed to make it perfect.
"Entonces?..can I see at least one tear?"
"Zulema-
"Saray, no te metas, por favor"
She replied by gesturing with her hand to stay in place. She didn't care if the whole group of people looked at her in fear. She was used to it, did it often, and for some time now she cared little about what others thought of her. Exactly since the marriage with Hanbal had gone to hell. Everyone had noticed the acidity and grumpiness entering the brunette's soul, and she had let it flow, because she believed it had to go just like that.
Zulema sighed and headed back to her seat.
"Let's try again"
She crossed her legs, returning her eyes to the couple in front of her, who resumed its position with more determination. The girl and the boy looked at each other. He tucked a lock behind her ear and sighed on her lips, then there they were again, the flashes hit Zulema for the umpteenth time. When it happened, she just couldn't go back.
You don't know shit about this job. You don't know how important it is to me, you hardly know who I am.
Really? That's what you think? After a 10-year marriage? There is not only the reality of the camera, Zulema. Lo entiendes?
Do not intervene in my work, I will not repeat it to you again. Let me do what I'm good at. It's the only thing that gets me up in the morning.
This is the problem! No lo vees? We are married and you never told me I love you Zulema. NEVER. I'm starting to doubt, why am I not your motivation?
No vivimos en una película, Hanbal .
Oh, I know that. It is YOU who live in YOUR movie. And you know what? That's enough for me. I stopped longing for a happy ending with you a long time ago.
Zahir came to her senses as a tear ran down her cheek.
"Bien. Está bien. Come back tomorrow for the last shoot"
She quickly got up from her seat and reached the trailer not far from the shooting location. She knew, as she sipped the whiskey in the glass, that the person behind her was Saray. The woman came to check on her after her madness. Since when had it become so rotten? Sometimes she believed it would be like this forever. She knew that la gitana was her best friend, and she also knew that those constant visits took place to prevent her from committing some bullshit.
"How long will it go on like this, Zule?"
"You mean con este calor de mierda? I wonder too, gitana"
She sat down with a thud in her chair and sighed looking her friend in the eye.
"Zulema, ya. It's too much, it's the fifth time that they come back terrified"
"That's how the scenes are shot, Saray. Otherwise they'd all be actors in this damn country..you know better than me"
"It doesn't give you the right to treat them like that, joder. You know very well they're not the problem."
Zulema finished her drink by slamming the glass on the table and getting up to approach her friend.
"Que coño quieres decir, Saray?"
"You know what I mean. Está bien. It's good for you to talk about it, you know?..instead of setting foot here and acting like a piece of shit"
Zulema shook her head breaking eye contact that had lasted too long. She put her hands on her hips and let out a sigh.
"What do you want me to tell you? Hm?"
Saray stared at her waiting for her to continue.
"That a story that ended years ago still haunts me? That I sleep three hours a day? That letting off steam with other people just makes me feel more disgusted towards myself?"
She turned around for a moment and looked back at her friend, there was still more inside. There was a mountain of things nobody listened to, and Zulema didn't know why that very day everything was ready to come out. Maybe that was exactly the day the limit had been reached, and she had grown tired of accumulating and keeping it all inside.
"Pues, aquí está. I'm broken, and that..all that stuff there, that saves me, Saray. Nada más."
Saray nodded and grabbed her hands. Obviously she tried to get rid of them, but her friend didn't allow it and wrapped her in her arms. Saray knew that words weren't needed. She remained silent and squeezed Zulema, whose nails sank into her back and whose throat let out a sob that had oppressed for long months.
"Está bien"
The younger brunette whispered. Zulema separated from her body only minutes later, wiping her face with her palms.
"Joder, soy terrible"
She saw her friend thinking about it and she jokingly pushed her.
"Gracias, gitana"
After minutes of silence and minutes of useless chatter, Saray realized that she would not get anything else from Zulema, at least not tonight. It had been enough for the Reina Mora , she was aware of it, so she headed for the small sink in the caravan and introduced new topics to the table.
"Entonces..have you seen the info of the people to be hired tomorrow?"
Zulema then remembered that they had to participate in the auditions to choose the new actors of her new movie. She was that kind of woman. She was finishing her masterpiece and was just about to start another one. Yet even she herself knew so little about her new project, she only knew that she had woken up in the night with the craziest idea in her head and within two days she had finished the script for a quarter of the work. She had perhaps woken Saray at three in the morning, too restless, asking her to join her immediately because she had it in hand, but yes..that's how it worked.
"I'll do it tonight. What time should we be there?"
"10:30"
She replied as she sipped her drink from the glass.
"Joder, I hope it'll be worth it...last time it was a disaster, quería quedarme en mi puta cama"
Saray offered her a new look. That of those who know what she does not know. That of those who anticipate her in something, and no..she did not like it.
"Que"
"I told you, you have to read those damn documents"
"What are you hiding from me, puta?"
Zulema left her body on her chair again, looking at her friend.
"Nada, but there are good names on those sheets. I have a feeling we won't be so disappointed."
"Good names? And since when do names say anything about the skill of an actor, Saray?"
The gitana threw her a little eye and put the cup in the sink.
"Confíes en mí"
Saray rubbed her hands as she headed for the small door.
"Would you like a pub crawl?"
"I have to see Helena"
Saray snorted as she looked back at her.
"You have to fuck Helena, you mean"
Zulema tried to hide the laughter that she couldn't hold back anyway.
"If you want to put it like this.."
"No me jodas, zorra. Ten cuidado and don't be late tomorrow, vale?"
"Tranquila. See you tomorrow, gitana"
The door slammed, letting her plunge back into that uncomfortable silence. Zulema drank another glass and texted the woman she spent a few evenings with each week.
*
"Ah, joder Zulema-
Zahir's fingers sank inside the girl, letting her tighten the sheets under their bodies. Zulema was not delicate. She clearly understood when she needed a quickie to take the energy out of her too restless soul. And she understood that Helena was more than okay with feeling her like this, between savagery and not even a shred of love.
It wasn't love, it would never be.
Zulema had always been very clear about it. Follamos y ya. Lo siento. Si te gusta te quedas. Si no te gusta te puedes ir. And Helena was so afraid of losing her altogether that she simply nodded to her, taking her to bed only seconds later. The younger woman hated the way she couldn't have all of the brunette, but it was just impossible. It was a fight to which she had dedicated herself for half of her life, the outcome had only made things worse between them, and when Zulema proposed to her to remain close fuck-buddies, the young woman had understood that she would not have her close in any other way and had accepted even if unsure.
Zahir, on the other hand, still lost no time wondering where her time wasters in these activities came from. She ended up in bed with too many people and kept treating one worse than the other. She knew what the source of her mood was, but deal with it? That was too much. Zulema didn't have all that self-esteem to think she had the strength to do it. No, she preferred these sweaty hours in a bed that wasn't her own. She preferred to release the huge cloud of stress and anxiety present in front of her own expectations, and she preferred to do it through violent and not very delicate sex, as she was used to.
"Ah!"
She felt Helena cum on her fingers and slumped on her chest, biting her breasts as if to comfort and gratify herself. Shortly after she separated from the body of the other. She didn't like too much contact when it wasn't about sex. Zulema stayed within her own margins and Helena knew it. She watched her sit on the bed and run her hands over her face. She put on her undershirt and stared out the window, where the thin slice of moon seemed to whisper secrets to her. Zulema looked at it and seemed to be enchanted, while Helena looked at her and searched for a nonexistent way to make her fall in love with her.
"Beautiful night, right?"
Zulema looked at her revealing her eyes that seemed alien in the dark.
"A night like any other"
She whispered before getting up to put on her sporty shorts. Helena gathered the sheets over her body and raised herself on her elbows. She dreamed of seeing the woman approaching only to offer her a kiss that was not aggressive. Or give her a caress that explained that that night was not exactly like the others . The point was that for Zulema it was just like that. It could only be like that. Another hour spent in exactly the same way, without experiencing what the mini part of her would have wanted so badly. Who knows if she would ever have the chance.
She went to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror, noticing the dark circles, the wrinkles that seemed to become more and more alive on her pale and smooth skin. She sighed, wetting her hands and running them through her cheekbones and hair. Only that splash of water was enough to make her fall back into the state of repentance she knew so well, the one that almost started to become comforting.
Zulema left the room to find Helena asleep. She looked tender for a moment. She wanted to feel something for her, for real, just to check whether she was still able to. Because that was the problem, not Helena, not entirely her. She went downstairs and looked for a paracetamol tablet in the bottom of her bag. The folder Saray had given her two days ago lay there, jammed. She pulled it out and after taking the medicine for the usual migraine, she sat down on the bench in the outside garden of the house.
Zulema brought the filter of the cigarette between her lips, narrowing her eyes, while her other hand opened the folder that rested on her crossed and half bare legs. Let's see these good names, she repeated to herself.
Fabio Martinez , 26, Sevilla.
She already knew the boy pretty well. Not bad, she was about to hire him for one of her movies from years earlier, El Juego Prohibido, but things went differently, she met someone who was able to assist her better. She then turned the paper over after another puff, and as she breathed out the smoke from her lips, she noticed the second candidate.
Macarena Ferreiro, 24, Valencia.
It was strange to admit to herself, but yes, she noticed the curiosity that crept into her body after reading about the little girl's experiences in the movie world. She had traveled extensively, and had been in more than a couple of English-language films, My Life Before and after You or Shadows of the Northern Lights, works that Zahir did not recognize easily, but which sounded intriguing because they were unknown. On the other hand, Zulema knew well that raising too much her expectations was never a good choice, although in her job it could often happen to make such a mistake. She was known for her sternness, her experience, and her ability not to be disheartened by unusual failures. Unusual because when she worked she gave all of her, and the results of her sacrifices rarely did not satisfy.
She touched her lips and continued to analyze the face printed on the paper. The girl was cute, and she possessed some quite unique traits. Yes, she would almost perfectly square with what she had in mind.
Macarena Ferreiro, let's see what you have in store for me.
She thought, nervously rubbing the corners of that sheet.