Yes

This had to be the two hundred and seventh time I’d read the manuscript for Boondock Saints 3.

There was only two weeks till shooting started and I had already watched the two first movies a dozen times and really tried to do all the research I could about the fan base; what they expected of the movie and what they really wanted to see.

Troy surely had done a good job; he was answering so many questions one could have about the MacManus brothers; their upbringing, what would happen to them; would they get out of the prison? How will the end be? Will the brothers die? This movie really focused on the brothers.

I liked that.

Hell, what girl can watch those movies without falling a little in love with both of them?

But it had been weird all of a sudden to watch a movie with Norman in them. Of course, I’d seen The Walking Dead and some old movie with him called Floating but that was before I got to know him. Now as I watched his character Murphy, I felt like I discovered a whole new side of Norman that I hadn’t gotten to know yet; like Murphy was just a part of him that I just realized had always been there. I mean, it’s not like Norman would ever go kill another human being, well maybe if they did something really horrible to his son, I don’t know. But the passion and believe that firmly shaped his character in this movie was so very prominent in Norman himself.

Like he carried Murphy around inside of him.

One night I’d been over at his place, and we’d practiced our lines together even though we didn’t really have many scenes together. My character was a guardian angel that would show up when they needed faith to continue their path. And lastly when they would die, they would “go to heaven”, so to speak, and I would be there together with their lost ones.

Troy had told me that he’d gotten a lot of questions about the boys’ love life; would they ever get laid? He’d shrugged his shoulders and said: “I just can’t see the boys with some random chicks, she’s gotta be something else; from another world, you know? They don’t really see sex as something they do; it’s not important enough, like, they have other things to do, you know? So I created this angel, guardian angel; you,” he’d winked, “and you are the only woman they really can identify with something sexual. ‘Cause you’re pure and a creature close to God and you have been with them all their lives, I think I want to give a little reference about the neck tattoos; that it’s actually your mark; they’re your territory ‘cause you’re their guardian angel, you follow me?”

Troy had such amazing ideas and I was sure the fans were going to love that little twist on the stories. And I loved the mystique that surrounded my character.

I was already getting pretty good at my Irish accent; watching YouTube videos and listening to Irish radio had really helped me. But even though Troy had explicitly told me that my character should speak with an Irish accent, I couldn’t help but feel like it seemed a little wrong.

I was sitting at my table with my laptop in front of me, a cigarette hanging lazily from the corner of my mouth. You could hear a car alarm from down the street and my refrigerator seemed to be having a slight heart attack trying to keep the heat out.

An idea flashed through my mind and I almost dropped the cigarette in surprise.

Didn’t they like have another language in Ireland? Like a really old one that only the older generations knew how to speak today?

I quickly typed something in Google and almost immediately found what I was looking for: the language Irish Gaelic.

That would be a language the brothers would know, I thought to myself.

English just seemed way too modern for their guardian angel. With the Gaelic she would seem so much more Irish in a sense, wouldn’t she?

I bit down on the nail on my thumb and felt my blood rush through my body. I had to ask Troy if I could please do that.

But can you do that as an actress? And even a not so experienced one.

What could I do?

I had to call Norman.

“You should probably have the lines translated and ready in Gaelic if you wanna show Troy your idea. He needs to see it like you do; feel it, you know? Or else he’ll just wave you off. He’s a man that knows what he wants, but it’s not impossible for you to get some say in it. Hm. Do you know anyone Irish who could help you with the lines?” Norman's voice sounded from the speakers on my phone.

I was looking out my window.

“Nope,” I said, quickly continuing, “But I was thinking about Irish bars; don’t you think that if I went down to one and asked them if they could help me?”

The scruffy sound of cars sounded at the other end.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I actually know a pretty authentic place in Manhattan, we could go there together?”

A broad smile spread across my face.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Are you free now?”

It sounded like a bus was passing by him.

“Um, no. I’m going to an interview down near South Doc. And I’m taking my bike, so probably gonna go for a little cruise afterwards…”

“Oh,” I nodded, my voice thick with disappointment.

I just couldn’t sound more understanding, now could I?

I heard him chuckle. “You already miss me, babe?”

The awkwardness fell upon me once more. I should have gotten used to it by now but I still felt like a little girl around him.

“You’re such a dork” I exclaimed almost out of breath.

He really made my body act so strange.

Another chuckle sounded. “You could always come with me? I have an extra helmet?”

My eyes widened.

Going on a mini road trip with Norman Reedus on his bike? How can one say no to that?

“That sounds rad. But what about that interview?”

“It’s just down at some café. There are a lot of nice vinyl shops there too; you could maybe check them out in the mean time? They have some nice stuff.”

I looked down at my clothes and nodded.

I could be seen in this.

“Sounds great…”

“Nice. ‘ll be at your place in five.”

..........................................................................

“Wow, I’m so full right now, that lady really knows her Mexican food…” Norman exclaimed while rubbing his stomach.

We were sitting on a bench in some park a little outside of Woodrow.

I smiled as I let the afternoon sun warm my face in. Not a cloud could be seen on the sky today which I wasn’t really used to. New York had really been blessed this summer.

“You hungry?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, I had a sandwich at Subway just before you called.”

I just lied.

But I wasn’t really hungry and I knew Norman would force-feed me if I told him I’d only had breakfast today. He was still going on about the whole “please-don’t-lose-weight” thing. I secretly tried to anyways; not that I wanted to lose ten kilos or anything, just a little before filming.

Which was in two weeks.

A mild sensation of having butterflies in my stomach started pricking. His bike was standing to our right; black and silver projecting glorious sun beams in every direction.

This was the life.

I suddenly felt his hand on top of mine and I started caressing him gently with my thumb.

“You know, I really enjoy this. Us,” he said in a mild voice.

The butterfly sensation turned into a bubbly one inside me. I looked down to a pair of ray bans.

“Me too,” I almost whispered.

Birds were tweeting happily in the background and the air was filled with the buzzing of lazy bees. It was actually pretty romantic.

I bit down on my lip.

How was I going to say this?

“Spill it,” Norman said, easily reading my facial expression.

“I just thought… We’re gonna be co-workers now and… Is this maybe a bad idea? I mean… I don’t want it to end but… Should we maybe wait?”

Hours seemed to pass by before he answered.

This was actually something I’d thought about for quite a while and I was really nervous to hear his reaction to it. In some place in the back of my mind I wanted him to tell me that it wasn’t a bad idea.

That it could work.

That it would work.

But I also knew that he was very realistic. Or pragmatic, whatever you call it.

He was nodding before he turned to let his eyes hover the field in front of us. “I guess you’re right,” he then said, taking my hand in mine and squeezing it a little, “We should maybe wait, yeah. But…”

I opened my eyes again.

“But what?” I quickly asked. Maybe a little too quick.

He grinned at me.

“I don’t know,” he said, “I just… don’t know if I can stay away from you. I don’t think I can stop myself from kissing you if I have you around all the time. I mean, we’re gonna spend a lot of time together in Toronto. And why set up some façade between us? Why not just let this go where it’s supposed to?”

I lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

“Because Norman, don’t you think your fans will be… I don’t know, jealous or mad or something? And what about Troy? Or Flanery, and all the other guys? Don’t you think they’ll be annoyed by us or something? I don’t know,” I mumbled out.

I really hadn’t thought this through thoroughly enough.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe. But what do we care? Of course, we can’t go walking around sets dry humping each other like we did at your place the other day,” I felt his fingers twitch slightly, “but when speaking of fans? They’re gonna be your fans too now. They’re gonna love you! I’m sure of it… And if not? If it really comes down to them not liking you because I’m with you? What kind of people does that make them?”

I frowned.

Of course he was right.

He was always right.

Almost always.

But I still couldn’t help but feel a slight anxiety growing in my stomach.

What were the fans going to think of me? Were they going to approve?

“Look,” he said and turned my face to look at him with his hand, “I really like your person. You make me feel all weird and good at the same time. And I love being with you. Hell, the other day I was cleaning my place and Mingus walked in on me, asking me 'Dad, what the fuck are you listening to?' And it was Band of Horses.”

He looked at me like I should know that that was the craziest think I’d ever heard.

He breathed. “I never listen to Band of Horses!? But it’s because it reminds me of you. When I’m with you. The things you make me feel, I…”

I broke him off with a kiss.

It wasn’t long or wet, it was just one of those boring ones you always see old couples give each other when they’re out with family.

But it was perfect.

My cheeks started burning before I finished my sentence: “Norman, I’m so in love with you.”