Hey shippers,
A couple of weeks ago I think we were all talking about the encouragement that Whitney might have gotten during her screen test. So I came up with an attempted vignette to explain it. Trouble is, it's almost 4,000 words and I have two more scenes to write. I can't imagine a single post being that long. I've split it in half, making this the first part, and will post the other tomorrow night, or in the morning, depending on how the thread progresses. Enjoy.
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Late 1990
Los Angeles- The skies were particularly clear the day before Whitney's screen test. Whitney had agreed to meet K for lunch, so that Whitney wouldn't have to "go onto the set cold and businesslike."
Mick Jackson, the director and Jim Wilson, Kevin's production partner at TIG Productions, came along with him. They were already seated when Whitney walked it, accompanied by her mother Cissy and her longtime assistant Robyn. Although Whitney was wearing a baseball cap low on her brow, she, Cissy and Robyn still set off a buzz and turned heads in their wake as everyone watched them dolly between the tables and disappear to a small private dining room.
During dinner, Mick explains how the screen test will proceed and which scene she and Kevin will perform for the test.
"It's the one where Rachel asks Frank out," Kevin says.
Jim Wilson asks if she has any questions.
"Do I have to nail it in one take?"
Everyone says 'no' at the same time. And Kevin consistently points out her strengths and what she'll contribute to the scenes, the film and the project on a whole. The meal lasts for hours, as talk turns from business to more casual and personal matters. Eventually, the chattering and laughter quiets down. First Mick and Jim leave, then Cissy and Robyn take the car and say they'll send the driver back with it for Whitney when she calls for it.
Kevin gets up and walks them to the door, and in the few minutes that he's gone, Whitney pulls out a compact and touches up her makeup, then shakes her hair out a little. When Kevin gets back to the table, he sits right next to Whitney and waves the waiter over. He orders another prosecco and asks Whitney if she wants anything, but she declines. Whitney takes a deep breath and another sip of her tea.
"So tomorrow is the big day. The big test!" She says.
"Are you nervous?"
Whitney nods and looks down at her hands, spinning a cup of tea on a saucer. The idea that Kevin believed in her so much that he held up production on the film to wait for her was overwhelming.
"Well, you shouldn't be afraid," Kevin says, leaning back in his chair. "I know that you'll to succeed. You're the person this script's been waiting for all these years."
"Me, huh?" Whitney shakes her head. "That's something else."
"You know, you're a rare talent, and it's not just because of your singing and your beauty," Kevin shakes his head. "Most women in this town would have eaten up the flattery and charged right ahead with this project. Making demands, being a diva, knowing that I was in her corner."
"That's true. But I'm also unlike a lot of other women in this town for one other reason," Whitney says, sitting up and looking around for her belongings. "Everybody's watching me. Everybody's looking for me to slip. And I'm not known for dancing or gyrating or stripping to get attention. And here you are, fussing over me like I'm the teacher's pet. We know what people are going to say about that. I have to be great to shut them all up."
"You will be great," Kevin punctuates his last comment by squeezing the closest hand that held her tea cup. The weight and warmth of Kevin's hand made Whitney flinch. For a reason that she couldn't put her finger on yet, her stomach flips and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She resolves to find her voice and play it off.
"I just hope for your sake that you're right," Whitney says.
The next day ...
Whitney's limo pulls onto the bustling Warner Brothers lot. As Whitney, her mother and Robyn pile out of the car, W spots Kevin walking over to them. He's really relaxed looking, in a black oxford shirt unbuttoned at the collar tucked into acid washed jeans. He's also wearing a blazer and cowboy boots. He greets everyone warmly, giving Cissy and Whitney the biggest hugs.
"You look great, Whitney," Kevin says. "Are you ready?"
She nods and follows Kevin to her trailer. As they walk, she closely observes all of her surroundings. Robyn and Cissy follow. When they get to her trailer, Kevin shows them around as Cissy nods approvingly.
"It's almost like a dorm room," Whitney says, as Robyn lightly runs her hand lightly over the back of a chair.
"This will be your home, so to speak, while we shoot this movie," Kevin says.
While Robyn takes a phone call, Cissy makes a list of items to buy to make the place homier.
Kevin yanks the bill of Whitney's cap, making her look up at him and smile.
"When we first met, you were wearing a different one of these," he says. "How many do you have?"
"Lots and lots," Whitney giggles. "I collect them. I probably have one from your alma mater somewhere."
Kevin explains that the hair and makeup staff will attend to her shortly, and that he will check on her after they're done. After that, he leaves her. A few minutes later, Cissy and Robyn give her a group hug of encouragement, and they exit, too.
While the hair and makeup staff work on Whitney, she closes her eyes and reviews the lines in her head, muttering silently. Eventually, and she opens her eyes. She doesn't like what she sees.
"Could you somehow make those curls over here a little looser?" She asks the hair stylist, frowning at herself. She shakes her head "This look is giving me ... 'church mother.'"
"But honey your hair is only but so long. If I fix it, I'll have to use the iron again, and I know you don't like excessive heat on these locks," the stylist says. "Are you sure?" All the while, Whitney has been shaking her head and biting her lower lip.
"Please try," Whitney says. She places both palms on the vanity in front of her and leans closer peering at herself. "I was a model. I know you know your craft, and I'm not trying to tell you your business, but I'd like you to try what I think works for my face. And these tights curls are not it."
At length, Whitney gently negotiates with the hair and makeup staff. Far from a tyrant, she grows more anxious by the minute, constantly asking them if she looks good and whether they've used enough makeup. Finally, they finish up and she has a few minutes to herself until she hears a knock at the door. She turns around in her chair and calls out, "come in."
It's Kevin.
"Hi," Whitney glances at the doorway through the mirror and fusses with her hair.
"How is it going?"
"I don't know, I just ..." Whitney picks up a brush and begins fixing her hair. "The hair and makeup people are great. I just feel like something was lost in translation during this session."
Whitney stands up and leans in closer to the mirror.
"And the makeup barely covers my complexion. Look at that mark!" She points to an area that looks perfectly smooth and clear.
"You look great Whitney," Kevin says. "Not that they needed to do much on you, but you look absolutely camera ready."
Then she sits back down and takes a labored breath. As Kevin sits on the vanity, facing her, she relates to him the conversation she had with the hair stylists.
"I know the hair people think I'm nuts," she says.
"No they don't," Kevin lied. He saw them shaking their heads and shrugging as they walked away from her trailer. "They're probably just wondering why you're so hard on yourself."
"Maybe I should wear a wig," Whitney says. I sometimes have one on me, in case."
Kevin shakes his head and holds his hand out to her. She takes it and looks straight at him. Kevin is struck by Whitney's eyes. Usually small set, coy and charming, they now seem round and wide open with terror.
"You look beautiful," Kevin begins. "Absolutely radiant and and screen worthy. You have to believe me."
"But looks are not everything," Whitney says. "I can't even count on the singing to bail me out this time. I have to be good. Really good, and I've never done anything this big before."
"But you know how to deal with cameras being on you all the time, and telling a story with your expressions and body language and all," Kevin says.
"But this is major," Whitney squeezes Kevin's hands back. "People already remember me from those music videos and sitcoms and they be like 'So? That's it? What else you got? If you're gonna act with Kevin Costner you need to bring it!'"
Kevin grins and tries to squelch a laugh at Whitney's rather awkward hood rat affectation, complete with neck swerving and finger waving. Despite the effort, there is nothing rough about her, and she comes across like a well-to-do WASP trying to talk her way out of a shady back alley.
"And you know they think I'm just here to make out with you, right?" Kevin is taken aback by her bluntness, but quickly realizes that a lot of what she's telling him is probably true. "Like I don't already have a boyfriend for that! And tell me whoever heard of anyone making out for four months straight, and that's what goes into the theater. It's a whole lot more than that. These people don't know!"
Kevin has been listening to Whitney's self-deprecating tirade with kindness and patience. She complains about her 'stick figure' in the running suit costume. She hates her hair, and according to her, the makeup is a "light dusting when plaster is what's really needed."
At length, Kevin holds a finger up to Whitney's, close to her lips and asks her to take a deep breath. She takes several breaths and looks at him.
"Whitney, you are being way too hard on yourself," Kevin says gently. "You look beautiful, and once we walk out on the set, you don’t have to worry. I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way. Me, Jim, Mick and everyone else here wants you to succeed. You can do this, and you'll do well, I promise."
Whitney nods and breathes again. Kevin leans toward her and lightly rests her hand that he had been holding on her lap.
"Are you ready?" He asks, smiling kindly. Whitney nods and he slides off the vanity.
"Kevin, could I have a few minutes to myself?" Whitney asks, looking into his face. "I'll meet you out on the set."
"Sure. Just gather your thoughts," Kevin says. "Whenever you're ready, I'll be out there."
Whitney turns to watch Kevin leave, and after he shuts the door, she spins around in her chair and hastily scrubs off the light studio makeup that the staff put on her.
Then she pulls a makeup case out of her handbag and rifles through it to find all the pots, tubes and pencils that she needs to redo her face.
"Good thing I was a model," she mutters as she carefully pulls down her lower eyelid and begins to apply eyeliner. "He's a boy. Can't tell me about makeup."
With minutes to spare, Whitney puts her cosmetics case back together, then pushes it back into her bag and gives her hair a last-minute flip.