On Location

by Sarah Echavarre Smith

“Yo! Blondie!” Blaine calls to Rylan. “I said I need water.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ this guy,” Wyatt mutters from behind the camera.

  As Rylan scrambles to dig out a water bottle from her backpack, a bewildered look on her face, I make my way over to Blaine to tell him that he’d better not ever call her that again, but to my surprise Drew beats me to it.

  “Her name’s Rylan, not Blondie. Understand?” Drew booms at Blaine, who looks shocked.

  Blaine nods once, his expression mildly annoyed as Rylan hands him the bottle. But then when he looks at her, he flashes another smug smile that sends a chill through my spine. She barely makes eye contact with him, then quickly turns and walks away. Blaine’s gaze stays locked on her as he sips. I ball my fists at my sides, enraged that he’s eyeing her so openly.

  I walk over to Rylan.

  “Sorry he called you that,” I say.

  “It’s okay. It’s not the first time someone’s made that comment to me,” she says quietly.

  “Hey.” I put my hand on her arm and gently turn her away so that Blaine isn’t in her line of sight. “I don’t care who this guy is. He doesn’t get to speak to you that way on my set. Okay?”

  She nods, a sad smile on her face.

  “If he ever makes you uncomfortable again and I’m not around to see it, please tell me.”

  “I will,” she says quietly.

  Just as I walk over to Drew, Blaine announces that the blast of water has helped him feel reenergized and he wants to do one more run-through.

  “Fantastic,” I say sarcastically, which he clearly doesn’t pick up on because he flashes a thumbs-up before running through his lines again.

  I pull Drew aside so that the camera and microphones don’t pick up our sound.

  “Thanks for calling out Blaine like that.”

  “Of course.”

  “That being said, please don’t interrupt me the next time I’m talking to him one-on-one. It undermines me as the producer in charge.”

  Drew frowns, clearly confused. “I was just trying to help. You looked like you were going to strangle the guy.” He chuckles. “How would we have filmed this series with our host deceased on day one of shooting?”

  I purse my lips. He’s not wrong about that.

  “I’d prefer to be the one telling Blaine what to do,” I say. “And I’d also prefer not to have to pander to him in order to get him to do his job,” I say pointedly.

  Drew raises an eyebrow, like he’s offended by what I’ve said. “I’ve worked with enough entitled jerks in my career to know that sometimes you have to appease guys like Blaine to a degree—because we’ve got a job to do.”

  “That’s great. But this is my series and I’ll make the final call on how to handle the host.”

  Drew tilts his head at me. “Wait, you’re not still mad about what happened between us . . . are you?”

  I bite down, annoyed that he would accuse me of letting my emotions get in the way of my job. Yeah, I’m still hurt about that, but that has nothing to do with today.

  “Do you honestly think I’m the kind of person who would let my personal life affect my professional conduct?”

  Drew opens his mouth but shakes his head, looking off to the side rather than saying anything.

  “It’s real simple, Drew. Please don’t interrupt me the next time I’m having a conversation with Blaine or anyone else on this shoot.”

  Drew clenches his jaw and nods once. I spin around and walk away. A few seconds later, behind me I hear Drew clap and praise Blaine for completing his latest subpar take.

  I look on, my arms crossed and my insides on fire, fuming that Drew is so willing to play to Blaine’s ego—and also that he might be right about it.

  As I lightly kick the red clay with my boot, doubt creeps in. For the first time in my career, I wonder if I’ve got what it takes to do this job.

  * * *

  • • •

  “But, I mean, can you really, truly promise me that I won’t die?” Blaine gazes at me with wide eyes.

  I take a breath and try not to scream. It’s been ten full minutes of complimenting and coddling while trying to convince him to do this shot, the last shot on our second day of shooting.

  Usually that’s all it takes to deal with a difficult host. Sometimes a few extra perks work too, like a luxe car service or gourmet catering.

  But Blaine is a different animal entirely. None of that is going to help right now because what’s holding him back is a completely illogical fear.

  As I stand in front of him, I glance above at the Double Arch, one of the most visited spots in the park. It’s a jaw-dropping formation of two arches that share the same massive stone foundation as their outer legs. The opening of the two stretches nearly a hundred and fifty feet and stands more than one hundred feet high, making it one of the biggest arches in the entire park.

  “Blaine.” I say his name with forced patience in my tone. He doesn’t seem to notice as his gaze darts around at the massive arches that surround us. He takes a step and nearly trips over one of the green desert shrubs that dot this area of the park. For a second I’m afraid he’s going to lose his balance and trip down the uneven sloped rock face, which is riddled in boulders and leads up to the Double Arch like an earthen staircase, but he steadies himself.

  “This rock formation has stood here for millions of years,” I say. “It’s not going to suddenly collapse onto you.”

  Behind me Wyatt mutters, “Unfortunately,” as he waits with his camera setup several feet away. I bite my lip to stifle a laugh.

  “How can you be so sure?” Blaine asks, his eyes darting all over the arches.

  Day two of shooting and it was another morning of Blaine showing up three hours late, then screwing up his lines a dozen times for the first scheduled scene of the day. And then I lectured him about professionalism, which led to him rolling his eyes at me, which led to an argument. Drew then stepped in from that point on and modeled that scene for him, and each one after that, just like he did yesterday. It was the only way Joe and Wyatt could film halfway-decent takes.

  And then Blaine insisted on a two-hour lunch break because my arguing with him was so upsetting that he needed to meditate to recenter himself for the rest of the day’s shoot. And then he claimed he needed to take his “medicine,” which in actuality was just a bong. That pushed our shooting schedule behind two hours. Plus, we had to wait out an unexpected rainstorm that lasted nearly forty minutes, yet another unexpected setback. And now, on our last shot of the day, we’re less than an hour from losing the sunlight we need to wrap things up.

  My face twists as I take a breath and muster that last iota of patience I’ve dug up from some mystery reserve I didn’t know I had. Mother Nature and Blaine are conspiring against me today, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it.

  “Blaine. I promise you’re not going to die,” I say.

  He frowns, his bloodshot eyes still darting all over the place. Great. He’s a paranoid stoner in addition to being completely unqualified for this job.

  He mumbles some incoherent comment about earthquakes and erosion as I turn around to check on the rest of the crew. Both Wyatt and Joe are set up and ready to go. Haley looks at me, tapping her bare wrist to indicate that we’re losing time.

  Closing my eyes, I clench my jaw for the millionth time today. Yelling at him again isn’t going to move this along. I glance to my right and spot Drew standing twenty feet away, observing the shit show with pursed lips and his arms crossed over his chest. He props a leg on a nearby rock and shrugs at me.

  And that’s when I know I need to take a page out of Drew’s book. No more scolding Blaine—not if I want to get this shot done.

  I grab Blaine by the shoulders and jerk him to look at me. “Do you realize you’re making history with this segmen
t, Blaine?” I hitch my voice up so that the words sound extra-urgent.

  Confusion clouds his face. He shakes his head no.

  “You are. Because the Double Arch—this very arch you’re standing under—was where the opening scene for Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade took place.” I make my eyes go wide and give his shoulders a shake.

  “Whoa . . .” He gazes up again, muttering about the streaks of red that cover the Double Arch. “It’s like God dumped giant buckets of red paint all over them. I mean, look at those colors! Reds! And oranges! And browns too!”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what it looks like, Blaine. And you’re making history by filming here. No other travel show host has ever shot a scene in this very spot—this spot that Indiana Jones made famous.”

  Even though every word is absolute bullshit, I speak them with conviction. And Blaine seems to buy it, judging by his awestruck expression.

  I nod my chin to Drew. “Drew is gonna show you how it’s done. But then you have to do it—you have to nail this, Blaine. We’re counting on you to make this episode we’re shooting today a worthy homage to Indiana Jones. You can do that, can’t you? You can be the Indiana Jones of this travel series, right?”

  His leathery, tanned face turns pointed and serious. “I can do it.” He turns to Drew. “Drew, my man! Show me how it’s done!”

  With that, Drew jogs up to the top of the Double Arch. He stands, the rich adobe-hued arch serving as a wondrous frame for this shot. Drew runs through the lines while I stand next to Blaine at the base of the rock formation. He gawks at Drew, his eyes sparkling with wonderment. When Drew finishes, I call cut, then smack Blaine on the back to take his turn. It takes five takes, but by the end, I’m confident we have enough footage to cut into a solid intro.

  “That’s a wrap!” I yell. Rylan claps, then everyone starts to pack up just as the sun begins to dip below the horizon.

  Blaine blows kisses and waves to an imaginary crowd of onlookers, then declares that he’s going to take a nap in this spot under the Double Arch to fully absorb the spirit of Indiana Jones so he can channel his aura for the rest of the shoot.

  “Great idea!” I yell, then turn around and roll my eyes. I start packing up the equipment with everyone else.

  “You’ve got the patience of a saint dealing with that guy,” Wyatt says to me quietly as he coils up a cord.

  “Not really. The only way I got through this shoot is by fantasizing about the arch actually collapsing on him like he feared so we’d be rid of him once and for all.”

  Wyatt chuckles, then reins in his expression. “Do you want me to pull Blaine aside and have a talk with him?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Joe and I were talking earlier and said maybe one of us needs to set him straight about proper conduct on set. It shouldn’t just fall on Rylan or you to set boundaries. As screwed up as it is, maybe it would hit harder if another guy called him out.”

  I flash a small smile at Wyatt. “I appreciate that. Truly. But I’ve got it under control. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. It’s my job to do the unpleasant stuff like that. I promise I’m going to have a talk with him.”

  Inside I’m annoyed that I even have to navigate this. Normally I’d have no problem reporting harassment to the execs, but seeing as his agent is chummy with Byron, I highly doubt they’d be receptive to it. Especially over a word like “blondie.” It’s not technically an offensive word, so I can just imagine the eye roll the execs would give me if I tried to call attention to it. It’s best if I just handle it myself.

  I thank Wyatt, grateful to have his and Joe’s support. Just then Joe runs up to grab a gear bag, but Wyatt stops him.

  “We’ve got your back one hundred percent when it comes to dealing with Blaine. Right, Joe?”

  “Absolutely. We’re not going to let his behavior slide.”

  I’m heartened at their support. But I also want to show that I can handle this Blaine issue independently. I don’t want to be known as the showrunner who gets my crew to do my bidding for me.

  I thank them both before they continue packing up the gear. I turn and spot Drew walking toward me, the look on his face hesitant.

  “Hey,” I say, shutting the back door of my car after loading it. Inside I brace myself, just in case he feels the need to rub it in my face that I broke down and used his technique of appeasing Blaine instead of arguing with him in order to finish the last scene.

  He rests his hands on his hips. “I just got a call this afternoon from the ranger’s station out at the Needles section of Canyonlands. It looks like filming there is a no-go.”

  “What?” I say sharply.

  The Needles shoot is the shoot I’ve been looking forward to the most during this entire six weeks of being in Utah—it’s my favorite episode of the season. I wrote it because visiting the Needles was my favorite family vacation of all the ones we ever took. When my brother was in middle school and I was in elementary school, we lived with Apong Lita for the summer because our parents traveled constantly for their military jobs. She took us on summer road trips to Utah, and we spent one of the days driving to the Needles district of Canyonlands National Park. It was one of the last vacations she took with us before getting diagnosed with cancer a handful of years later. She passed away when I was in high school.

  I don’t think I blinked even once while staring at the endless sandstone spires that dominate that section of the park. It was like being in a children’s fantasy picture book brought to life. The rock formations were in various needle and dome shapes, in every shade of red and orange. Apong Lita held my hand as we hiked around the viewing spots, pointing out every odd yet beautiful rock form we saw. I still can’t believe only a fraction of tourists visit this section of the park compared to the other more popular attractions, like Arches, Zion, and Bryce. I’ve always thought it was the most beautiful.

  The next time we come here, we’ll have to see if we remember which ones we pointed out, she’d said, smiling down at me.

  My chest swells. We never had the time to plan another trip before she got sick. That was the only time I ever visited the Needles. My goal with this episode of Discovering Utah is to shine a light on this area so that hopefully viewers of the series will feel compelled to visit it. But more than that, I want to be able to revisit the place that was so special to my grandma that she never got the chance to see again.

  I swallow back the lump in my throat and refocus on Drew. “What do you mean shooting is a no-go?”

  His brows furrow together, like he’s annoyed that I’m questioning him. “The ranger said there was a mix-up in the scheduling. Apparently they’re closed that week for park maintenance and aren’t admitting any visitors.”

  I tug at my ponytail. I guess nothing on this shoot is going to go as planned. “Well, that’s just fucking great,” I mutter.

  “Nice choice of language there.” Drew’s expression turns sour.

  “I’m sorry, does swearing offend you?”

  He glares down at me. “A little. We’re on the clock, Dunn. Shouldn’t we try to be a little professional?”

  “Interesting. I mean, we’re currently dealing with the most unprofessional host on the planet, who seems hell-bent on driving this series into the ground, but I haven’t heard you complain about that. But cursing, that offends you? Good to know.”

  I walk to the driver’s side of the car and start to open the door, but Drew’s voice stops me.

  “Calm down. It’s no big deal, okay? Canyonlands is huge. We’ll find some other section of the park to film for those days. At least we have enough notice that there’s time to rework the script and the schedule.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek at his irritated tone. An angry sort of heat flashes through my chest. “You don’t think this is a big deal. Noted.”

  He scoffs at my obvious sarcasm
. “This is the nature of this business. Stuff happens and you roll with it. Here, we can set up a shoot in the Maze section of Canyonlands or something.”

  “Not a chance.”

  He jerks his head back at my sharp response. “Why not?”

  “What a great idea, filming in the least accessible and most dangerous section of Canyonlands. You know that the Maze is consistently ranked as one of the deadliest places to hike in the US, right?”

  I don’t wait for Drew to answer.

  “First of all, any vehicle we take out there has to be high clearance and four-wheel drive, otherwise we’re guaranteed to get stuck or get a flat tire because none of the roads are maintained. They’re all littered with jagged rocks and potholes. The trails there aren’t well marked. They’re difficult even for expert hikers to follow. And there are zero services in the Maze, not even water. We’d have to haul literally everything from drinking water to toilet paper with us. And if we get lost or stranded, it’ll take rangers days to find us, the area is so remote and vast. That’s a disaster waiting to happen, especially with someone like Blaine.”

  Drew spits out a bitter laugh. “Wow, okay, Dunn. Way to go full throttle to every worst-case scenario possible.”

  I bite my lip to keep from going off.

  “We can figure something out,” he says, rubbing his hand over his face. “Butch Cassidy had his hideout in the Maze, I think. We can just go there. That could be cool to film.”

  “Drew, the entire point of this series is to showcase safe attractions in Utah’s national parks, not glamorize the illegal hideouts of dead criminals.”

  I’m about to turn away, but I stop when he speaks.

  “I don’t understand why this is such a touchy subject for you.”

  I twist so I’m fully facing him. “Of course you don’t understand. You’re not the one who planned this series from every angle—from the shot setups to the scene breaks to every last word in the script. You’re not the one whose blood, sweat, and tears and heart and soul went into developing this series.” I swallow just as my voice starts to shake. “This is just a job to you, and that’s fine. But this is my dream. So you’ll allow me a goddamn minute to be upset when you inform me of how it’s all falling apart.”