“I don’t like being in front of the camera,” Toussaint said for the fifth time. Summer wondered if he knew how much he sounded like Zari when she was given raw carrots. Summer took a deep breath and tried again. “I understand that. I do, but you are the one who said that you wanted to give Oscar Micheaux the flowers that he deserved so how are you going to do that interviewing every black director you can get booked and never say anything yourself? You’re one of the biggest directors in Hollywood. It doesn’t make sense. You know this.” “I just feel—“ “No.” Summer was normally good with going with the flow and letting other people flow as they needed to but operating out of fear? No. Especially since she knew he’d regret it. She knew he’d regret it like she’d known Winter would regret not going on that date with Ali. “You interview all the time.” “Alyssa makes me.” Toussaint sighed and looked at her apologetically. “I sound like a kid. Jesus.” Summer didn’t bother lying to him to make him feel better. This was too important. “You told me that I needed to get on board with interviewing for The Frogs documentary. You remember that soapbox you were on? How they—Aida Overton Walker in particular—paved the road for my sisters and me to be who we are so we needed to ‘say something to lay flowers on their tombs?’ You said 'she paved a way before Josephine Baker, for black women to own their bodies in whatever way they desired to on stage.’ I even quoted you. You need to see the footage again?” Summer waited for his slow head shake, and because she was always more willing to be honey than she was to be vinegar, she tried another tack. “Plus, I’ve been talking to my sisters and Ali about filming our creative processes. We decided—The Seasons—that maybe we should show women being bosses. And that it is ok for women to know what we want and that we can do that without being abusive. Who better to film that than you?” She watched him perk up and inwardly smiled. Now, he was interested like a kid in a candy store. “Are you…blackmailing me with documentary footage?” He narrowed his eyes at her but held out a hand to her. She got up from the other side of the couch that she’d been sitting on and slid onto his lap like it was her favorite spot to sit in. It was. He gently pushed a violet colored curl behind her ear. “You’re right.” Summer turned, looked at him and widened her eyes. “Come again?” “Smartass.” He kissed her cheek just below her ear. “I’m holding you to that documentary thing. Don’t try and bribe me and then take it away. I know how Autumn wants to be seen as a black angel.” “Do I ever make promises that I don’t keep?” Summer teased but she kissed him instead of waiting for his answer.