Between Takes

by Morgana Bevan

  WHO’S TO BLAME FOR SHILY SPLIT?

  DRUGS, SEX, ALCOHOL AND ROCK-N-ROLL: TOO MUCH FOR SHAUN MARTIN?

  SHAUN MARTIN CRASHES OUT. LILY TYLER TO BLAME?

  On and on the headlines went. Some insinuated that Shaun was violent and that’s why Lily kicked him to the kerb after twelve years. Others suggested he’d only stuck with her for the fame. All of them quoted anonymous “sources” close to the couple. I knew enough about Isla’s job to not put any stock in some anonymous prat taking a pop at his or her friends. If they were even friends.

  “Have you seen some of these?” I asked Isla, disgust heightening my voice.

  She nodded. “I had a glance before I gave Sherry your number.”

  “‘Acclaimed celebrity actor Shaun Martin crashes stunt car two weeks after pop-rock sensation Lily Tyler ends long-term relationship with him. Is this his cry for love or a cry for help? Sources close to Martin tell New Hollywood Tyler pulled Martin out of an abusive childhood home and gave him a career. After the breakup, he’s worried his career is going to slip away without her. He was going out with a bang, they said.’”

  I glanced at Isla, dropping her phone on the sofa. “How can they print things like that?”

  “It’s a tabloid paper.” She shrugged, not even pausing as she piled my DVDs into a box. “They print whatever they like and keep a staff of lawyers on retainer.”

  The whole thing left a foul taste in my mouth. The man was hurting. Maybe he needed a little room to breathe without the world avidly watching him for the smallest crack.

  Chapter Two

  Juggling a coffee cup while power walking across a busy, sprawling studio lot was my worst idea today. But it was only 8AM, and there was still plenty of time for bigger fuck-ups – not that I was planning to fuck up. It was just the kind of thing I was braced for after Sherry’s cryptic warnings and my internet searches.

  It’s not like I didn’t set six alarms last night. I even skipped my morning coffee. All to make up for the fact that I woke at 7:15AM to the shouting of my new flatmates returning from some bender of a night out. I’d missed every single alarm and lost any time to dawdle with my own drink and sooth my jumping nerves.

  In under an hour, I made it out of the shower, dressed, drove across Cardiff, picked up my security passes, and stopped to pick up his coffee order, as Sherry directed, from the Craft Services table at the studio. I didn’t really have time for it, but considering I wanted to make a good impression my first day, I stopped. Maybe it would sweeten him up and save me a lecture from Mr Hotshot actor on tardiness.

  Although he definitely couldn’t talk.

  Sherry’s extremely lengthy briefing email made it crystal clear that my real job was to keep him on time and out of trouble.

  Skidding to a halt, I barely avoided getting run over by a rack of clothes. The wardrobe assistant scowled at me, her eyes fixed on the large soy milk mocha I held dangerously close to her treasures. She barrelled on and I blew out a relieved breath. Pretty multi-hued pastel hair or not, I didn’t want to mess with that death glare.

  When the coast was clear, I snuck a glance at my watch. Fifteen minutes to make-up. Fuck.

  I took off at a run – which, let me tell you, is not easy on grass; adding in ballerina pumps and a full scalding-hot cup of coffee was asking for trouble. But by some miracle, I didn’t spill it, and I even made it through the maze of identical-looking trailers. I followed a hunch that his would be the biggest, and I wasn’t wrong. I stopped near a trailer with a laminated sign of his name to catch my breath and compose myself before I approached the lion’s den and knocked.

  My heart was still in my throat, but at least when I banged on the door, I was certain words would come out of my mouth.

  Seconds stretched into minutes as I stared at the door. We didn’t have time for more of a delay, and I really didn’t want Shaun to be late to set my first day. What a failure that would be.

  But knocking was gaining me nothing but bruised knuckles.

  Sherry had been clear: Shaun was never on time these days. No way had he already left for make-up. Plus, I could hear the quiet buzz of a TV. The hotshot was in there, and he was ignoring me.

  I’ve never been great with people ignoring me – just ask my brother. Call it youngest child syndrome if you want, but the fact is I learned how to make people give me their attention at a young age. And right now, some uppity TV star crashing to earth was not getting in my way.

  With renewed vigour, I slammed my hand against the door repeatedly. It stung, but it was effective. The trailer rattled with my thumps.

  Heavy footsteps raced towards the door and I stepped back. It narrowly missed my nose as it flew open.

  “What?” Shaun Martin shouted, glaring down at me with hard eyes.

  For a moment, I lost my words.

  I’d seen pictures, of course, but nothing could prepare me for the real deal. The fire in his eyes proved he had a mammoth temper. With all that animosity centred on me, my brain stuttered.

  But after a few breaths, I snapped out of it. I’d allowed no one to have that kind of power over me. Not my teachers, not my boss, definitely not my ex-boyfriend. I certainly wouldn’t start with Shaun Martin. If he wanted to glare at someone, he could look in a mirror.

  I pushed my shoulders back, cleared my throat and offered my free hand. “Mr Martin, I’m Mona Baines. It’s nice to meet you.”

  The glare went up a notch. Okay, so killing him with politeness isn’t going to work.

  “May I come in?” I asked, trying for a sunny smile.

  Somehow his face darkened further. He crossed his arms – his very muscular arms – and blocked the doorway.

  “I have your mocha.” I offered the cup, forcing my smile back in place.

  His face softened as his eyes dropped to the coffee, and I thought for sure that would be my in. But he didn’t ease his stance or so much as twitch towards the cup.

  “Sherry said soy milk mocha was your drink.” I frowned down at the cup. Come to think of it, why did I believe his agent actually knew him? My sister had a file on all of her clients, but that didn’t mean Sherry was as diligent. “Never mind. I can get you something else from Craft Services.”

  “Why is my agent telling you my coffee order?”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  His eyes narrowed, and I took that to mean no.

  My bravado slipped along with my smile. “I’m your new assistant.”

  Silence followed my declaration. I had to give up on winning this asshole with kindness. Every time I smiled, his face darkened.

  “Not a chance,” he muttered before swinging the door shut in my face. A distinctive click of locks followed.

  I blinked at the plastic door. “Well, that could have gone better.”

  “You did what!” Shaun roared from behind the door moments later.

  I flinched. It was loud, okay? Maybe I should check in with make-up and let them know he’ll be late. Find myself a headset too, just in case anyone is looking for him.

  Before I could move more than two steps, the door flew open. I froze, my wide eyes fixed on the handsome man using his striking green gaze to turn me inside out.

  “You!” he shouted, pointing a long finger at me. “Just to be clear: I did not hire you. I don’t need you.”

  He held the phone away from his ear as a shrill voice blared from it. I stood over six feet away, and even I could hear Sherry tearing into him.

  “It was one time.” He forced the words out through gritted teeth. “They can’t get their knickers in a twist over one late start.”

  It was actually five in two weeks. Sherry was a very talkative person, and then her briefing notes gave even more detail. Probably not great business practice, spilling your client’s secrets in writing, but right now, I was grateful.

  “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m handling it.” He dragged his hands through his thick brown hair, tugging at the ends a little too hard.

&n
bsp; Someone is stressed.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Shaun muttered. “I’m the star! They wouldn’t.”

  They so would – or so Sherry said.

  Apparently, he wasn’t the easiest person to handle on set. Just two weeks into a gruelling six-month schedule and Shaun had already alienated half the crew. The producers had been amicable to start, but now they’d started to see that their chosen star was driving them into the sun.

  The fight drained from Shaun’s shoulders and the tension bled out of him. Moments later, he slumped against the doorframe. His eyes scanned slowly up my body, and something about his unfocused but softening gaze made goose bumps break out along my arms.

  My boss was checking me out.

  It lasted for all of five seconds, and then my spine stiffened and I folded my arms across my chest. With a leisurely pace, his eyes rose to my hard face. He smirked before focusing his attention back on Sherry.

  “Fine. But it’s a trial and when I say it’s done, it’s done.”

  I was fairly certain Sherry wouldn’t agree with his estimations. He tensed and I barely stopped myself from smiling in triumph.

  Take that, Hotshot!

  “Are you fucking serious?” His eyes fixed on me, eying me like whatever threat Sherry had issued was entirely my fault. Given her desperation to get me here, I was fairly certain it was a threat. I glared right back at him. “Pretty sure I employ you, Sherry. Are you enjoying the beach house my fee earned you?”

  Oh yeah, entitled asshole alert. Somebody had forgotten his roots.

  My research said Shaun Martin didn’t come from an acting dynasty. He grew up in a small working-class South Wales town, went to a secondary school. If the critics were to be believed, he was a natural talent. He’d never had acting lessons, no Sunday drama clubs or drama classes in school. With all that, you’d think he’d be a bit more humble.

  “I’m telling you this won’t work, but whatever.” His lip curled like a sullen child’s. All he needed to do was stomp his foot and the image would be complete. He grumbled one more time then hung up.

  Shaun clattered down the steps and sauntered towards me. I tensed and eyed him like the shark he was. He took the coffee from my rigid hands. I was rather proud of myself for keeping the damn thing intact all this time.

  “What did you say your name was?”

  This close, I had to tip my head back to meet his eyes. I wasn’t short by any stretch of the imagination, but he made me feel tiny and vulnerable. Not a thing I’d ever wanted from a man. And I wouldn’t start wanting it now.

  “Mona.”

  “Fine, Mona. It looks like you’re my PA.” He sipped the coffee, pulling a face when it hit his tongue. I hated lukewarm coffee too.

  He lowered the cup and fixed me with a glower meant to make me sink into the dirt, I’m sure.

  “Ground rules: Stay out of my way and we’ll be fine. Take my calls. Your number one job is to keep the producers and my agent away from me. Clear?”

  Not bothering to wait for a reply, he turned around and walked back to his trailer. I followed him, disbelief and outrage warring for control of my mouth. Outrage won.

  “No dice. I’ll do my job.” My firm tone caused him to spin around, a quirked eyebrow raised. “I’ll keep you on track and that includes keeping you out of a bottle and attending creative meetings with the producers who took a massive gamble on your falling star. My job is to get you through this show in one piece and make sure you’re still hireable.”

  “Now, wait—” he started, but I raised my hand, cutting him off. His mouth hung open in shock.

  “You may not like me. Or the situation,” I continued, raising my voice to discourage any more interruptions. “But I’m what you’ve got. It’s me or a huge fee when you fail to complete this show and maybe the end of your career as you know it. You have no choices left.”

  His lips flatlined as my meaning sank in. If he didn’t get his act together soon, he could kiss his A-list status, and all the perks that came with it, goodbye. If he fucked up this show, he’d be too much of a liability for any of the big studios or production companies to take the risk.

  With my speech done and my position clear, I waited. And waited some more. He observed me. His hard gaze bore into me, searching for a crack. I didn’t so much as flinch.

  “Fine. It’s you. Now do your job and leave me the fuck alone.” Shaun spun on his heels and bounced up the steps.

  The door swung shut behind him again.

  Oh no, he didn’t. I stomped up to his door and slammed my fists against it. Not looking for a repeat of the last time, I backed away fast. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and put on my best “don’t fuck with me” mask and waited.

  The door flew open, slamming back against the trailer.

  “What!”

  “You’re in make-up in five minutes.” I was rather proud of my cool, calm tone.

  “Then I’ll go in five.”

  “No. It’ll take you five to walk there. You leave now.”

  His eyes skimmed my body before returning to my firmly set face.

  “You’re a hard-ass. Anyone ever tell you that?”

  With a grim smile, I crossed my arms and waited.

  At that, Shaun Martin sighed and clattered down the steps before following me to make-up like an obedient dog.

  But I wasn’t fooled.

  Chapter Three

  When my phone rang the next morning a little after 3AM, I didn’t need to read the screen to know who it was. No one rang me before 8AM. Ever. My family valued their lives, and I wasn’t close enough to my old friends to call any of them at any hour. That meant it could only be one person and he was calling me before our ridiculous call time.

  “Yes, Shaun?” My words might have been a little slurred. If he asked why, I’d blame the lack of coffee and the fact I was sat in my car in the studio car park with my head pressed against the steering wheel, wishing it were a pillow. Honestly, on what planet is a 4AM call time, okay? I’d felt sick just texting times over to the driver the production had hired.

  “Why the fuck is there a driver at my door?” He didn’t so much as pause for pleasantries. Lucky for him, beneath his angry moaning I could hear a croak of tiredness.

  “You have to be on set in an hour.” I forced a note of understanding into my voice. After all, I didn’t want to be awake either. “Make-up and wardrobe are expecting you in fifteen minutes.”

  “Why did you let them call me this early?” he grumbled. “Tell them I’ll be there at ten.”

  And that did it. My patience ran away from me and I gritted my teeth.

  “I’ll tell them no such thing. Get in the car and do the job the producers are paying you a pretty penny to do.”

  Without another word, I hung up and went in search of coffee.

  I might have admired his pretty face and ripped body for a moment, but the man had a stick up his ass. I wouldn’t let myself forget that.

  “You’re Mona, right? Shaun’s new assistant?” A tall, bearded guy stopped beside me while I mixed my second coffee of the morning. His lilting Welsh accent took his friendly smile up a notch. He wore a headset similar to the one hanging around my neck. “I’m Brian, the first AD.”

  “What’s an AD?”

  He frowned. “Have you ever worked on a set before?”

  I shook my head, refusing to feel even the smallest twinge of doubt. I didn’t need to know the lingo to keep a firm handle on Shaun.

  “Assistant director. I’m the guy in charge of set, the one who keeps this train on the tracks.” He pointed to a raven-haired woman pinning something to the wall. “That’s Leanne. She’s the crowd second AD. Talk to her if you’ve got any issues with the SAs.” He paused, his cheeks reddening slightly as he took in my pinched expression. “Sorry, habit. Support artists, or extras, as the wider world knows them – just don’t use that term where they can hear you. Leanne deals with getting them to set and keeping track of continuity.�
��

  He spun around, his gaze scanning the wide-open space.

  “Hey, Aidan!” he shouted, his voice clanging in the morning hush.

  Yet another tall, good-looking man. What were they putting in the water around here?

  Aidan’s gaze shifted from Brian to me. Although friendly, there was definitely an assessing light to the once-over I got. He was younger than Brian. I’d place Brian in his early thirties, but I’d hazard a guess that Aidan was younger than me.

  “Aidan’s my right-hand man, my third AD. He handles the runners and directs the background most of the time. If you run into any issues with Shaun’s schedule or wardrobe, talk to me or Leanne. If it’s transport- or accommodation-related, check in with production.”

  I scanned the bustling space as Brian explained how I should use the radio mic if I needed to reach people, and which channels to use. I nodded along while I watched people scramble about the space. Some positioned furniture and set pieces on the sound stage, while others checked equipment and adjusted lighting.

  “All you really need to know right now is to stay out of the way. The rest you’ll pick up pretty fast.” He pointed towards a small group of people who looked younger than Aidan. They wore headsets and had radios clipped to their belts. “The runners can help with basic things, and if you ever get too busy, we can have them handle shepherding Shaun to make-up and wardrobe.”

  I studied their fresh faces. They seemed innocent, like they might cry if Shaun inflicted yesterday’s stunt with the trailer door on them.

  Before I could respond to Brian, Shaun arrived on set, baring his teeth and barking at anyone who dared cross his path. Brian snapped to attention, and everyone sprang into action. The sound stage cleared and an older man dropped his script, jumping to his feet with exuberance and open arms. He guided Shaun through the scene while a couple of extras – em, SAs – in everyday clothes positioned themselves around the living-room set.

  Despite the early-morning phone call, I’d been feeling a wee bit optimistic. Shaun had been on his best behaviour after our rocky introductions yesterday, sitting through make-up without arguing and accepting criticism without snark. I thought I was home free, that Sherry had exaggerated.