by Bill Myers
Suddenly, the assistant director’s voice bellowed, “We’re ready, people. Settle in, please. Nice and quiet.”
Instantly, all action stopped. No one moved. No one spoke.
Ryan, Becka, and Mom stood on a small knoll overlooking the scene. From this location they could see everything.
Jaimie and an older man stood on the makeshift castle wall, waiting to begin.
The director rose from his canvas chair and walked over to the cameraman. He looked briefly through the lens to confirm the shot and then nodded back to the assistant director.
“Stand by!” the assistant director called. “Roll sound.”
“Speed,” a man sitting at a tape recorder responded.
“Camera?” the assistant director asked.
“Rolling,” the cameraman said.
“Mark it.”
A young man with a clapboard stepped between the camera and the actors. “Scene 35, take one.” He snapped the board shut and stepped out of the way.
“And . . . action!” the director called.
Jaimie and the older man began to walk — Jaimie up on the wall, the man on the castle walkway a few feet below. The camera followed them on the tracks very low to the ground and shooting up so that it looked like they were very high, when in reality they were only a few feet off the ground.
“I tell you, I’m all right, Robert,” Jaimie shouted back to the actor as she threaded her way slowly along the top of the wall. “There’s no need for you to keep me inside at night anymore.”
The man shook his head. He spoke in a thick German accent and crossed his arms when he spoke. “You are not all right, I tell you. You have been bitten by one of the lords of the night, and if you even so much as smell the night air, your very blood will cry out to him. And he will find you and take you and make you his slave for all eternity. Is that what you want?”
From the knoll, Becka and Ryan exchanged glances. The scene was quite convincing.
On the set, Jaimie stared at the man for a long moment while the camera slowly and silently dollied in for a closer shot. “Of course not,” she said. “But am I to be a prisoner in this house every night?”
The man nodded firmly. “Yes, until we catch the vampire.”
With his thick accent, he pronounced vampire as if it were spelled vampeer. A long moment of silence passed, during which Jaimie turned and took a few steps away from the man. Then she began to wobble, as if losing her balance on the high wall.
“Stop!” the older man shouted. “Don’t move or you might fall. Let me come to you.”
He carefully walked toward her.
Jaimie regained her balance and turned back to him to shout, “What if you never catch him?”
“Cut!” The director yelled and then walked over to Jaimie. “Jaimie, Jaimie, Jaimie. Sweetheart, you’ve got to take more steps away from him before delivering that line. It looks too forced this way. Walk as if you’re still planning on escaping down the roof, and then spin around and say it to him. All right?”
Jaimie nodded, and the director was starting to walk back when Maureen, the wardrobe lady, came up to him and said something.
Clearly frustrated, the director shouted, “Break! Five minutes while Maureen does the work she should have done before we started!”
Instantly, the set filled with noise and commotion. Maureen ran over to Steve Delton, the actor playing Van Helsing, and helped take off his waistcoat. Quickly and efficiently, she began stitching a button that had come loose.
Jaimie looked up and spotted Ryan and Becka. “Hi, guys!” she shouted. “I’ll be there in a minute, just as soon as I get my hair checked.”
Suddenly, the director’s voice sounded through his megaphone. “Jaimie, stay here. If you go climbing up that hill, your hair will need to be done again. Your friends can come down here to talk to you.”
Becka was embarrassed, but Jaimie’s friendly wave encouraged her to come down and talk to her.
“Mom,” Becka said, turning to speak to her mother, “are you coming with — ” but she stopped.
Her mother was several yards away, talking with a rugged-looking man carrying a camera and cassette recorder.
“Mom,” she called, “are you coming?”
“No, I’m fine here, dear,” she said. “Tell Jaimie hi for me.”
The rugged man leaned toward Mom, saying something to her. She laughed and tossed her hair to the side — a clear sign that she was nervous.
“Who’s that guy?” Becka asked as she and Ryan descended the hill.
Ryan shrugged. “Who knows? He seems to like your mother, though.”
“That’s what I mean.”
“It’s okay,” Ryan said as he picked up his pace to head down the hill. “I’m sure she can take care of herself. Come on, let’s hurry.”
“Yeah,” Becka said. She was still concerned, but not so much over Mom as over the way Ryan was suddenly racing ahead of her to see Jaimie. Was it her imagination, or did he seem just a bit too eager? Actually, he seemed a lot too eager. By the time Becka finally caught up to him, Jaimie was already introducing him to her friends on the set.
“You’ve been holding out on us, Jaimie,” Maureen chuckled as Becka approached. “Keeping a cute guy like this stashed away.”
Everybody laughed, including Ryan.
What’s he laughing about? Becka wondered as she carefully positioned herself between Jaimie and Ryan.
“Oh, and this is Becka,” Jaimie added. Unfortunately, no one paid much attention as they spotted Dirk Fallon, the director, heading in their direction. Suddenly, they all made themselves scarce.
As Fallon approached, Becka couldn’t help noticing that the guy had a major attitude. “Who does he think he is?” she whispered to Jaimie.
Jaimie shushed her. “He’s the director.”
“I know,” Becka whispered back. “But why does he have to act so — ”
“Are we ready to go again, Jaimie?” Fallon interrupted as he approached. Becka could see that the man’s very presence made Jaimie nervous.
“Yes, Dirk, I’m ready,” Jaimie said. “Oh, by the way, these are my friends from — ”
“I’ll meet them later, dear,” he said, cutting her off. “We’ve got a picture to make.” Then, without waiting for a response, he spun around and nodded to the assistant director.
“Places, everyone,” the assistant director shouted. “We’re ready.”
The activity on the set accelerated dramatically as the actors and the crew resumed their positions for filming.
“Talk to you later,” Jaimie whispered to Ryan. She gave Becka a friendly nod and hurried to her place.
Ryan motioned over his shoulder toward the director as he and Becka headed back up to the top of the knoll. “That guy’s a real jerk.”
Becka nodded. “I don’t think I like film people.”
“Well, Jaimie’s real nice.”
Becka met his gaze. “Is she?”
“Sure . . . I mean, well, yeah.” He eyed her, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing, I guess. She just seems kind of phony, if you ask me.”
Ryan studied her for a minute. “Beck, you don’t think you’re, maybe, a little jealous, do you?”
“Jealous!” Becka said the word so loudly that the nearest crew members looked up at them.
“Easy! You’ll get us tossed out of here.”
She lowered her voice. “What do you mean, I’m jealous?”
Ryan shrugged. “I just meant that since she’s a star and everything — ”
“She’s not a star. This is only her second film, and nobody saw the first one.”
“I know, I know, but she does get treated pretty special.”
“So?”
“So, maybe all the attention she gets is bothering you a little.”
They had reached the top of the hill, and Becka stared at him dully. “Yeah, I guess it does. I guess all the attention she gets does bother me.”
Ryan n
odded. “You see. But that’s just how these people are. Everybody makes a big deal of the star.”
Becka stared at him. “I guess they do,” she said in cool tones. He didn’t respond, didn’t even seem to notice her displeasure. Without another word, she turned and started toward her mother. She could feel Ryan’s eyes on her, and she could tell he still didn’t get it.
Guys . . . they could be so clueless sometimes.
Mom and the rugged man were still talking, and as Becka approached, they started to laugh. “What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Mom said. “John was just telling me what a hard time he’s had adjusting to the customs here in Transylvania. He’s a reporter from New York.”
“Hi, Becka,” the man said. “I’m John Barberini. With Preview magazine.”
“Hi,” Becka said, doing her best to sound pleasant, though she didn’t much like him. “So, you’re doing a story on the film?”
“I sure am. And it looks like I’m in luck. This vampire business will make for great copy.”
“You don’t believe it, do you?” Becka asked.
“I didn’t say I believed it, just that it makes for a great story.”
“John has offered to show us some good places to shop,” Mom said. “You can bring Ryan.”
“Who wants to?” Becka muttered under her breath, then added out loud, “Ryan and I, we sort of made plans to hang out with Jaimie. Maybe we can do it anoth — ”
“Guess we’ll have to settle for a duet then,” John said, turning to Mom and smiling just a little too broadly.
To Becka’s surprise, Mom smiled back.
“Becka . . .” It was Ryan coming up the hill. “Becka, can I talk to you?”
Becka turned to him, but before she could speak, the assistant director shouted through his megaphone, “Quiet, please! Stand by. Roll sound.”
“Speed,” came the response.
“Camera?”
“Rolling.”
“Marker.”
“Scene 35, take two!”
“And . . . action!” Dirk Fallon shouted.
Once again, Steve Delton, the actor playing Van Helsing, delivered his line. “Yes, until we catch the vampeer.”
Only this time Jaimie took several steps along the wall before turning around and saying, “What if you never catch him?”
Van Helsing walked toward her. “We will catch him, my dear. I promise you. Please, come down from there. You need your rest. And here, I’ve brought something for you.”
He took out of his pocket a golden chain, from which dangled a large and ornate cross. “Wear this at all times. It is your only protection.”
She knelt down so he could reach up and put the necklace over her head.
But as soon as the crucifix touched her skin, Jaimie shrieked in pain. Her knees buckled, her body crumpled, and she half rolled, half fell off the small wall onto the ground.
Ryan and Becka thought it was all part of the script until Fallon shouted, “Cut! Cut! What happened? Is she all right?”
Delton stood helplessly over Jaimie’s still form. It was clear from his expression that he was no longer playing a role. “I don’t know,” he said as crew members quickly circled around Jaimie. “She fainted. Quick, somebody get a doctor. Somebody get a doctor!”
3
It looks like an acid burn to me,” the crotchety old doctor said as he carefully examined Jaimie’s neck. She lay on the sofa inside her dressing-room trailer. An angry red mark now covered the red scratch she’d had from before.
“Acid?” Tim Paxton exclaimed. “How can that be? Where’s that cross?”
Tim was one of several onlookers inside Jaimie’s trailer, a group that also included Ryan and Becka. Very carefully, a prop-man handed Tim Paxton the cross. The producer looked at it closely for a long moment and then pushed up the sleeve of his jacket.
Everyone waited in expectation as he pressed the cross against his own skin.
But nothing happened. No burn, no pain. Nothing.
Tim sighed. He looked back to the red mark on Jaimie’s neck and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jaimie. I don’t know what’s going on, but I promise you, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Jaimie did her best to put on a brave smile.
A light f lashed suddenly, and Becka turned to see John Barberini lowering his camera.
“Who let him in here?” Tim Paxton shouted.
“Take it easy. I’m going, I’m going,” Barberini said as he left the trailer.
“You’d better not use that shot!” Tim called after him. Then, looking to the group inside, he added, “I think it might be good if we all leave. Jaimie needs some rest.”
The crowd agreed and started to move out.
“We’d better get back to the hotel,” Becka whispered to Ryan. “I think it’s time we contacted Z.”
Ryan nodded, but before they got to the door, Jaimie called out, “Ryan, could you please stay for a while? I don’t want to be alone.”
Ryan looked to Becka. “Maybe I should stick around. I mean, if you don’t mind.”
“It would sure be helpful for us,” Tim said from behind them. “You always seem to pick up her spirits a little.”
Ryan nodded but continued to wait for Becka’s response.
Becka bit the inside of her lip. What was wrong with him? Couldn’t he see what Jaimie was pulling? But before she could answer, Jaimie interrupted.
“Say, Tim? Remember how we talked about needing someone to go over my lines with me?”
Tim nodded. “A dialogue coach, of course. But I haven’t found anyone who — ”
“What about Ryan?” she asked. “Couldn’t we hire him?”
Becka’s eyes darted to Tim.
“Well, yeah,” he said, “I guess we could. If he wanted to do something like that. I mean, I can’t pay much, but if he wants the job — ”
“Are you kidding?” Ryan exclaimed. “A job with a movie? I’d love it!”
Tim chuckled and held out his hand. “Then it looks like we’ve got ourselves a deal.”
An excited Ryan shook the producer’s hand.
“Just find out when Jaimie’s breaks are each day and read through the upcoming scenes with her,” Tim said. “And I’ll go ahead and add you to the payroll. How does seventy-five a day sound?”
“Seventy-five . . . dollars?” Ryan croaked.
Tim smiled. “And all the food you can eat.”
Ryan spun around to Becka, not believing his good luck. “Wow! I’m in showbiz!”
Becka could only stare.
Spotting the look of concern on her face, he asked, “Are you all right? I mean, this is cool with you, right?”
Part of Becka wanted to shout at him or slug him. How could he be so insensitive? So dense? But the other part, the ‘‘mature adult’’ part, knew that this was a great opportunity for him. Besides, it wasn’t like they were married or anything.
So, before she could stop herself, Becka said, “Do what you want, Ryan. I mean, if that’s what you want, then go for it.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She just looked at him. He was so thoughtful and sensitive . . . and clueless.
“Sure.” She shrugged. “Whatever.”
Suddenly Dirk Fallon poked his head into the trailer. “So what’s the story?”
Tim turned to the doctor. The old man had just finished treating Jaimie’s neck with an ointment and answered, “Nothing serious. Just a minor acid burn.”
“Acid burn?” Fallon’s voice sounded both shocked and skeptical.
The doctor nodded. “I put some salve on it. Let her rest for a while, and she’ll be fine.”
“How long of a while?” Fallon asked. “We’re trying to make a movie here, you know.”
“A few hours at least,” the doctor said as he put his things into a leather bag and prepared to leave the trailer.
“A few hours?” Fallon turned to his producer, incredulous. “We’ve
lost an hour and a half here already, Tim. We’re falling way behind schedule.”
“Calm down, Dirk.”
“Calm down? Calm down?” the director’s voice was rising.
“The girl’s had a rough time,” Tim said.
Fallon shook his head. “Yeah, well, just don’t get upset when we run over schedule and out of money.”
Tim was not giving any ground. “If we run out of money — and I do mean if — as the producer I’ll be the one who has to deal with getting more. Correct?”
By way of an answer, Fallon turned from the trailer door, hoisted his megaphone, and shouted, “Two-hour break for principal cast. Crew, set up for the next shot.”
Meanwhile, Becka had stepped from the trailer and was angrily making her way toward the hotel.
“Rebecca?” It was Tim Paxton calling. “Becka?”
She slowed her pace as he joined her. “Say, I hope you don’t mind about me hiring Ryan.”
“Why would I mind?” she lied.
“It’s just that he seems to be a real comfort to Jaimie, and I think she needs all the help she can get right now.”
“Why are you telling me?” she asked. “Ryan can do what he wants. It’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything.” As soon as the words came out, she regretted them. Sure, she and Ryan tried not to use the terms boyfriend and girlfriend, but there had always been an understanding between them. Or at least there had been until Jaimie came into the picture.
“Really?” Tim studied her face curiously. “I just sort of assumed . . . well, that’s great then, for everyone, I mean.” Tim checked his watch. “Well, I’d better go. Gotta get back in there and fight with the director. We’ll see you a little later.”
Becka forced a smile as he turned and walked away. She headed for the hotel, determined not to focus on the fact that she’d more than likely made a bad situation even worse.
Back at the hotel, Rebecca was surprised to see John Barberini, the reporter, in the lobby. “Hi there,” he said. “Tell your mother I’m here, will you? I’m ready to do some serious shopping.”
Becka nodded. “All right.”
“Sure you don’t want to join us?”
She shook her head. “No, I’ve got . . . something I have to do.” Becka started to leave but then felt Barberini’s strong hand on her shoulder.
