“Come in,” Haley calls.
When the door opens, there’s Rylan standing with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. She wrings her hands for a second, then takes a breath and walks in.
“I’m so sorry. It’s probably unprofessional to be so . . . excited.” She bites her lip before fiddling with her blond hair, which is swept over one of her shoulders. “But I honestly am so thrilled to work with you, Alia.” Her blue eyes dart to Haley. “And you too, Haley.”
“There’s nothing unprofessional about being excited,” I say. “I’m really looking forward to working with you too.”
Rylan starts wringing her hands again, but then quickly stops and folds them in front of her. Then her chest heaves once when she takes a breath. “I just really admire the way you work,” she says. “You’re so encouraging and hardworking. You don’t just dump menial stuff on us PAs and interns, like some other producers do.”
I nod in understanding, recalling how when I was young and eager to learn on a set too, all anyone would let me do was fetch coffee or run their errands.
I stand up and take a step toward her. “Thank you, Rylan. I really admire your work ethic too. You’re focused and committed to whatever project you’re working on, and that’s definitely the kind of person I want to work with on Discovering Utah.”
She beams wide once more. “I’m going to start packing the minute I get home tonight.”
She says good-bye, then walks out of the office, shutting the door behind her.
“Damn,” Haley says, staring at the closed door. “I miss being that excited and optimistic.”
“It’s sweet. And honestly, her enthusiasm helped me forget about Blaine for a bit.”
Haley leaves to refill her coffee while I type out a message for the field coordinator Brooke referred me to—some guy named Andrew Irons.
I briefly introduce myself; then I dive into the concept of the series and the tight shooting schedule.
You came with a glowing review from Brooke, my mentor, and I’m hoping you’ll be able to work with us on this project. Hope to hear from you!
I hit Send, then answer an email from the office manager about booking plane tickets for our trip to Utah next week. Then I email Joe, Wyatt, Rylan, and Haley to set up a meeting to go over the schedule for the shoot. I want to prep in advance as much as I can. We’re going to have an unruly and unpredictable host to contend with, so the more we can plan out, the better.
I send it and then see a reply from Andrew pop up in my inbox. I click it, eager for his response.
Hey Alia,
Please tell Brooke thanks for saying such lovely things about me. That was bribe money well spent.
I snort out a laugh.
But in all seriousness, this sounds like an incredible series. I’ve always wanted to visit Utah, but haven’t gotten the chance. I’d love to sign on. I’m shooting in Nova Scotia until Tuesday, so I can’t make it out there till Wednesday evening. Will that work for you? Sorry, I don’t mean to kick things off by being the last crew member to arrive, but that’s the earliest I can wrap up. But I’m hoping you’ll say yes because this sounds like a blast and you sound like a pleasure to work with.
I’m beaming at his response. Sure, I’m disappointed that I won’t be able to meet Andrew until we’re all actually in Utah. But then again, this happens. People who work on travel shows are all over the place at any given time and fly to whatever job they’ve been hired for. On any past job, I wouldn’t blink twice at this—but that’s because I’ve never been a series creator before.
I silently acknowledge that I’m going to have to dial back my expectations in order to shoot this series. And at the very least, Andrew sounds like a funny and accommodating person, which will be refreshing to work with.
I quickly type out my reply.
No worries at all. I’m thrilled to have you on board. I’ll email you the hotel and flight info later today, then the script and shooting schedule this weekend. Looking forward to meeting you and working with you.
I send the message, relieved that I have the best crew possible for this series. Haley walks back in and sets a mug of coffee in front of me.
“All the Blaine nonsense aside, I’m so pumped for this,” she says. “Your own series, Alia. You’re going to kick ass.”
I smile despite the uncertainty whirring inside me. I hope she’s right.
4
A week later, I’m pulling a rental car into the parking lot of a local chain motel in Moab, Utah. When I jump out, I scan the massive red-rock formations surrounding us.
“Damn,” Haley says as she climbs out of the front passenger seat.
Rylan says the same as she climbs out of the back seat.
I turn around and beam at them both. “I know a motel isn’t the most glamorous of digs, but I swear this one is good. Plus, the view.”
I gesture to the landscape once more, which is practically on fire in the sunlight.
Rylan shakes her head. “A motel is perfect!”
She runs to the back of the SUV and starts pulling out the luggage and camera equipment. Even after a 5 a.m. flight, a three-hour layover, and hours on the cramped plane, she’s still smiling and chipper.
I walk over to her and help her unload. “Your attitude is a breath of fresh air, Rylan.”
She flashes a thumbs-up while beaming. We sling the bags over our shoulders right as Wyatt and Joe pull up in a rental van. They park in the slot across from our rental. Wyatt climbs out and ruffles a hand through his jet-black hair. He blinks, his eyes puffy.
“Doing okay?” I ask.
Closing his eyes, he nods. I almost laugh. He looks half-asleep. Joe nudges his shoulder, then hands him a cup of coffee.
Wyatt takes a long sip, then turns to me. “My mom called to pray the rosary with me before our flight this morning. I’m dragging.”
I wince and nod in sympathy. “A lot of my aunts do that. My grandma used to do that with my mom every time she transferred to a new post in the air force.”
Wyatt rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. “She had me on the phone for an hour. That’s an hour I could have spent sleeping.” He groans. “She’s freaking out that I’ll get bit by a rattlesnake or fall into a canyon and get pinned by a boulder for days and that I’ll have to chop my own hand off, like that guy in that one movie. Or that I’ll accidentally ingest something that I’m allergic to. I mean, I’m allergic to vodka. That’s it.” He rolls his eyes.
Haley and I laugh.
Joe pats him on the back. “You gotta give us parents a break. It’s in our blood to worry.”
“Your kid is in kindergarten, Joe. It’s understandable that you’d worry about him. I’m a thirty-year-old man.”
“Gotta love those overbearing parents,” I say. “Tell your mom I’ve got a fully stocked first aid kit with an EpiPen just in case a rogue vodka bottle attacks you.”
Joe and Wyatt laugh as they unload their van. Haley, Rylan, and I walk into the entrance to check in. I quietly admire how clean and uncluttered this motel is. When I think back on all the road trips I took with my family growing up, I recall that we often ended up in run-down motels because they were cheap and convenient. This place is a definite step up. All the surfaces are sleek and shiny, with blond-colored engineered wood on the floor. There’s a neutral color-block theme in the décor, which is a definite upgrade from the retro floral aesthetic I always saw growing up. This one even has a small gym along with a pool and hot tub.
“This is actually pretty decent,” Haley says, gazing around. “I can definitely live with this.”
I walk up to reception and wait while the person in front of me is checked in.
“You act like we’re staying here forever,” I say. “This is just for the first two weeks of the shoot. Then we’re off to Springdale to film at Zion.�
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When the person in front of me finishes up, I step forward and check in. Wyatt and Joe come in soon after, and I hand everyone their room key cards.
“Okay, so how about we do a quick preproduction meeting in an hour? That way you guys can all get settled in your rooms for a bit, we’ll have the meeting, and then you can rest up for tomorrow.”
Everyone agrees, then heads to their rooms. I follow Haley through the hallway.
Haley turns her head back to look at me. “Will our star be joining us tonight?” she asks in a sarcastic tone.
I groan. We haven’t even started shooting and already Blaine Stephens is a thorn in my side. Apparently washed-up reality stars with a penchant for breaking the law are too good to stay at a chain motel. His agent emailed me a few days ago to say that Blaine will be staying at some off-the-grid glamping spot that costs thousands of dollars per night, an hour outside Moab. I silently stew once more over how he gets rock star accommodations while I’m running an entire series on a shoestring budget.
When I emailed his agent the schedule and mentioned the importance of Blaine’s attendance at our preproduction meeting, he refused, saying how important it was for Blaine to rest up until the last possible second before shooting actually begins.
“Blaine will not be attending tonight’s preproduction meeting, sadly,” I say, the bite in my tone clear.
We stop at the doors of our rooms, which are side by side.
“Apparently he needs to meditate or nap or be one with nature or some ridiculous shit right up until shooting starts,” I say. “His agent said he’ll be ready to go tomorrow morning when we start shooting at Arches. I guess we’ll see.”
Thankfully Arches National Park is only a handful of miles from Moab. That will hopefully mean quick transit times to and from shooting, so we can spend as much time as possible filming and corralling Blaine.
Haley flashes a sympathetic smile as she grips her room key card in her hand. “Promise you won’t be battling this guy on your own. I’ve got your back. We all do.”
“Thanks.”
Despite her reassurance, I can’t help the anxiety surging through me already, manifesting in my knotted muscles. Whenever I remind myself that I’m going to have to spend a good chunk of these next six weeks handling a man-child pseudocelebrity, my stomach churns. Because if things go wrong with Blaine, if he pulls some insane stunt that compromises the shoot, it could cost me the entire series.
Haley seems to sense the stress I’m trying so hard to hide, because she quickly changes the subject. “How is our field coordinator? Andrew, right?”
I nod, relieved that everything I know about Andrew—from Brooke’s glowing recommendation to the emails we’ve exchanged—has only proven he’s going to be easy to work with.
“He’s due to arrive in a couple of hours,” I say, then check the time on my phone. “He’s still midflight, so I’ll text him that I left his key card with the front desk. And if he gets here on time, we’ll see him in the meeting.”
Haley yawns. “I’m going to catch a quick nap, then. See you in a few.”
I walk into my room, pleased to see a queen-size bed in the middle. The bright-green hue of the accent wall pops against the light color scheme of the rest of the space. The floors and furniture are made of the same engineered wood. The furnishings are minimal—just a smallish desk, a chair, and a flat-screen TV that hangs from the wall. It almost reminds me of a hospital, which is comforting in a way. Normally motel rooms are dingy and stuffy. The fact that this one borders on sterile and clean is a pleasant surprise.
When I plop on the bed, I text Andrew the info, then roll over and fall asleep.
* * *
• • •
An hour later, the crew filters into the meeting room located on the first floor of the motel. We sit at a long rectangular table. Rylan hands out the shooting schedule I’ve printed out.
“So we’re starting at Arches tomorrow?” she asks. “So cool! I’ve always wanted to see the Delicate Arch.”
Wyatt frowns at Rylan’s unbridled enthusiasm as I go over the call time and what shots we need to get tomorrow in order to stay on track for the week. Everyone scribbles notes on their papers.
“For the first day of filming, I want to get an early-morning shot of Blaine at the Delicate Arch,” I say. “Most shows opt to do a sunset shot there because the sun sets right behind the arch, but I want to do something different.”
I explain how I want to capture the sun as it rises from behind the gigantic sandstone mounds right next to the Delicate Arch.
“The sunlight will illuminate it from the side. It’ll look amazing, almost like a painting.”
I mention that the hike to get there from the trailhead is about a mile and a half and that it’s rated as strenuous.
Wyatt lets out a groan, then shoots me a mock glare. “You know we’re going to be hauling camera equipment, right?”
“Yes, I know. But we’ll all pitch in to carry stuff. And since we’re starting before dawn, it’ll be cooler. I promise you won’t be sweating your face off—much.”
He points out the call time listed on the sheet.
“I know, I know. You’re not a fan of early call times,” I say. I’ve worked with him enough times to know that. “But seeing the Delicate Arch at sunrise is going to be worth it, I promise.”
He groans but nods. This is textbook Wyatt, which I’ve come to love through our years working together. He whines all the way up until the actual shoot, which is when he becomes all business. He’ll put in long hours day after day and consistently delivers stellar work. I can put up with a bit of whining in exchange for that.
Joe takes a giant bite from the bagel he brought with him, then tightens the bun holding his golden-blond hair. “Come on, man.” He gestures wildly as he speaks. “It’ll be exhilarating to be at one of the most stunning natural wonders in the country.”
Joe is an outdoors enthusiast, always camping and backpacking with his girlfriend and son when he’s not working. In the last few years, he’s also taken up running ultramarathons in the mountains. It’s one of the reasons I wanted him on this series—in addition to his stellar camera skills, I knew he’d counter all Wyatt’s whining.
“Yes. Exactly what Joe said,” I say. “Okay, so for the—”
The door to the meeting room whooshes open and I look up—and choke on the saliva in my mouth.
Because standing in the room just a few feet from me is Drew—the guy I had the most epic first date on planet Earth with, who then stood me up the next day.
And then my brain puts it all together.
Drew is Andrew. He’s the field coordinator I’ll be working with side by side for the next six weeks.
I almost say “duh” out loud. Such an obvious nickname.
His eyes widen as he stares at me. I’m guessing he’s equally shocked that I’m here.
I spend a few seconds stammering before a dizzy spell hits me. I instinctively try to inhale, but that kicks off a coughing fit. Haley thumps my back, then hands me my water bottle.
“You okay?” she asks.
I nod, clear my throat, then look up at Drew. “You’re Andrew?”
It only takes him a second to rein in his shock. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket and purses his lips. “Uh, no one really calls me that anymore. Call me Drew.” There’s a short pause. “You must be Alia?”
The pointed way he says my name makes the muscles in my neck tense. He’s probably putting together now that I gave him a nickname when we met.
“Um, yes. That’s correct.” I try for a professional tone, but my voice is still squeaky with shock.
Before this moment can get any more awkward, Wyatt, Joe, Haley, and Rylan all stand to shake his hand and introduce themselves. Drew’s shoulders relax and he smiles. When they ask how
his journey was, he chats easily about his flight. Rylan hands him a copy of the schedule, and he takes the seat across from me.
Focusing on the paper, I take a slow, silent breath. Then I look back up at him. “We were just going over the shooting schedule for tomorrow.”
Drew stares at the paper like it’s the most fascinating document ever printed. “Awesome.”
I refocus and get through the rest of the meeting. Ten minutes later, we’re done. Everyone leaves as I gather my papers, and I wonder how quickly I can dart back to my hotel room. But when I look up, I see Drew standing next to the doorway, staring at me.
“Can we talk?” He shuffles his feet and frowns.
“About what?” I bite the inside of my cheek at hearing how affected I sound. I hate that it’s obvious in those two words just how much him ditching me still hurts my feelings.
“I just want to explain what happened the other week. I don’t want you to think that I intentionally stood you up.”
I tilt my head at him, frowning. “But that’s exactly what happened.”
He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “No, I . . . I’m sorry. I swear to you, it wasn’t on purpose. It was like every possible bad thing that could happen to me happened the day after we met. After I took my aunt to the airport, I was getting off the subway in my neighborhood in Brooklyn, and my phone fell from my pocket onto the track and it took for-fucking-ever for the transit police to come get it. It was totally shattered; even the SIM card was cracked in half. I couldn’t even get it to turn on. So then I had to run to the store and buy a new phone, and I swear to God, I tried to look for you on Facebook, but I couldn’t find you when I searched for ‘Lia.’ I didn’t have your last name and after that I kind of just gave up.”
The way he shrugs his shoulders when he says “gave up” stings.
He’s probably lying to save face. You know what that’s like better than anyone.
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