Close Ups and Mess Ups

by Natasha West

  I frowned, confused. ‘I don’t get you.’

  ‘I mean that sometimes, when you get a good actor, they’ll be good at connecting their own emotions to the scene. But when they can’t… You don’t need to wait for it. You can put it there yourself.’

  I blinked. ‘You’re telling me that I should upset actors on purpose to get a better performance out of them?’

  Kim shrugged. ‘It works.’

  I considered whether to argue. But in the end, I simply said, ‘I’ll give that some thought.’

  Outside the theatre, I found someone waiting for me. Cameron. I hadn’t seen her since that little incident in the bar a few weeks ago, when she’d gotten snippy about Ashley. I didn’t know what she was doing here. We’d conducted all our correspondence about her play by email and text. Never in person. I didn’t really want to do it that way, but she’d always seemed to be busy whenever I’d suggested a meeting. But she was here now, waving awkwardly.

  I had to admit, she looked good. Her thick black hair was a little longer, curling around her neck, kind of hanging over one eye. She was dressed in a huge, baggy jumper that only made her look smaller. But her skinny black jeans, hugging her peach shaped bottom, reminded me that there was still a great body under there.

  ‘Allie’ she said shyly. ‘I’m glad I caught you.’

  I didn’t know what to say, so as is my usual way in a situation like that, I said fuck all.

  ‘Wanna get a coffee?’ she asked.

  ‘Sure’ I said, agreeably. I wasn’t sure what was up, but it felt like something.

  In the chain coffee place, Cameron insisted on buying my hazelnut latte (cream, extra sprinkles) and I let her. She got a simple black coffee which made me feel kind of like a little kid with my froofie drink.

  We sat on either side of a busted leather sofa, taking quiet sips while I waited for whatever Cameron wanted from me. And I assumed there was something. She’d gone dark for weeks at a time when she should have been more involved. I’d needed her guidance, in more than email form. I wanted to get the best from her words and to do that, I’d needed the writer of them. But she’d been completely out of commission.

  After an interminable silence, filled only with some light sipping, I cracked like an egg. ‘So, what’s up?’ I asked. ‘I haven’t seen you in weeks.’

  Cameron looked at me, alarmed. ‘Yes, no, oh…’

  Christ, the girl was skittish. I wanted to hate it. But I didn’t.

  ‘I’ve been…’ She paused. ‘I’ve been avoiding you.’

  OK. It was out there now. She’d said it. I was glad. I didn’t want to dance around this anymore.

  ‘Because…’ I waited. Eventually, she rolled her eyes and said, ‘Oh god, this is so embarrassing.’

  ‘Then hurry up and spit it out’ I told her. There was something about Cameron that made me talk this way. Pushy and impatient. Anyone else, I’d have just waited. But I was always waiting on her and I wanted to know everything that was spinning around her head. It was frustrating. Hence, pushy.

  But it worked.

  ‘You’re sleeping with Ashley, aren’t you?’ Cameron blurted.

  I was, yes. The soundstage hadn’t been the last time. There’d been one time at my place and one at hers. We’d kept it a little more private than the last time, taken no chances, waited for empty houses. I hadn’t told anyone, except for Janey, which didn’t count because she’d guessed it. But now Cameron was asking point blank. She wasn’t a very confrontational person, it was a big deal that she was asking. And I didn’t want to lie to her. So after a big pause, I said, ‘Yeah, I am.’

  She looked away for a moment and eventually turned back to me, looking me directly in the eye. ‘Is it serious?’

  I considered telling her that it wasn’t her business but instead I said plainly, ‘No.’

  ‘If I were you, I’d keep it that way’ Cameron said eventually.

  I hadn’t seen that coming. ‘And why is that?’ I asked, thrown.

  ‘Just don’t get sucked in.’

  ‘Sucked into what?’ I asked.

  She took a sip of her coffee and then put it on the table. She picked up her bag and stood. ‘She’s just… I don’t want to gossip.’

  My mouth fell open. ‘I think it’s a bit late for that. You’re trying to warn me off Ashley and you’re not going to tell me why? That’s bullshit, Cameron.’

  She looked down at me, sitting on that beat-up sofa, eyes wide at the turn of the afternoon. One minute it was radio silence and now, what, I was being warned off Ashley? I knew I wasn’t going to marry her, but she was giving me something I hadn’t felt in a while. Joy. Sure, it was short term. But she made me feel good, and right now I needed that. Cameron could have had her shot at that and she’d decided not to take it. I was suddenly quite angry with her.

  As she turned to leave, leaving my exclamation hanging in the air, I decided that she wasn’t going to get away with this hit-and-run crap anymore. I stood up and grabbed her arm. It wasn’t rough, but she looked at me in shock. ‘Hey, you better tell me what that means’ I demanded.

  She looked at me indignantly. ‘If you must know, she’s the reason Jack Jarvis left. She screwed with his head completely.’

  I lost my grip. ‘What? How did she manage that in the space of a few weeks?’

  ‘I think they knew each other before. That’s what people say, anyway.’

  ‘You’re saying he lost it in that studio because of her? Why?’

  ‘She made him fall for her. And then she fucked just about everyone at BSF in those first few weeks and rubbed it in his face. And that’s why he lost it’ she told me, looking down as she said it. ‘I really didn’t want to tell you this. But I like you. And I feel like she’s going to do the same to you, if you let her.’

  ‘What makes you think I’d lose it like that?’ I asked her sharply. ‘I’m not an idiot. And we’re not anything proper anyway.’

  ‘Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t’ she said sadly. And then she turned away from me and left.

  I stood in the coffeeshop, watching Cameron walk out, watching through the window as she walked down the road, that awkward little scuttle.

  What the hell had just happened?

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was Friday. Tonight was the performance. I had one rehearsal left to get this fucking thing into a watchable state and then that was that. It wasn’t a script issue. It was Shane. He was missing the punch of his character, a guy confronting his father about the crime that led to him going to prison and leaving him alone. It was a complex role and he was flat. There was no real anger in him. He might as well have been discussing an application for a mortgage. And come Monday, it would be time for critique from Kim. She wouldn’t pull a punch if I fucked this up. She certainly wouldn’t accept the blame put on Shane. It was supposed to be my job to find the performance.

  I’d tried talking to him in private, asking him to find a memory in his own life that he could recall during the performance. Method acting wasn’t for everyone. Some actors didn’t want or need it. But Shane had been up for it and he’d told me that he had something he thought might work. I’d awaited his performance the following day with high expectations. And nothing was different. He was still a flat, sad little flower. I wanted rawness, rage, grief. And what I got was a mope.

  Kim kept repeating that advice she’d given me on day one. I knew what she wanted me to do. She wanted me to make Shane angry myself, so he connected it to the performance. But that was fucked up. I couldn’t upset someone like that for the sake of a ten-minute play. It was absurd.

  As I awaited my slot in the theatre, I listened from the outside as Jonny worked his actors. I had to admit, what I could hear was good. However he’d come about it, Jonny was getting the best from his actors. They were performing a play about a couple that had lost a child. It was raw stuff. And Jonny’s actors were hitting the mark.

  I wondered if Kim had given Jonny the same adv
ice she’d given me. Perhaps she hadn’t had to but if she had, Jonny wasn’t a particularly sympathetic guy. If someone told him to upset an actor, the prick would probably jump at the chance.

  They were bitter, jealous thoughts that played around my head as I listened through the crack in the door. I hated them, these thoughts. They made me feel small and twisted up inside. What was the source?

  My phone vibrated and I checked it to find a text.

  Hey, I know it’s your big night. Wanna celebrate afterward? Ashley x

  Celebrate was code for sex. I thought back to the last time we’d been together, a week ago. We’d been at my place and she’d worn me out good. In the post-coital peace, Ashley had slipped a hand into mine and asked about my plans for Easter break, coming up soon.

  ‘My little brother’s coming to visit’ I told her.

  ‘Your brother? Wow. You’re bringing him to check out the school? I think there’s a party in the bar for end of term.’

  ‘Like I’d let him near all that free-flowing booze? He’s sixteen. He’d probably die’ I said.

  Ashley laughed and then said, still playing with my hand, running a thumb across my palm, ‘Well, if you change your mind, I’d love to meet him.’

  I was surprised by that. Wanting to meet my little brother was kind of a big deal. Especially considering we were only casual.

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure…’ I started to stutter, unsure what to say.

  She shook her head. ‘Don’t freak out. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him if he’s around. I’m not getting down on one knee.’

  I’d laughed, relieved. And then after she’d left I’d started to wonder. Was she trying to take the next step with me? Had she been feeling me out, trying to ascertain whether I wanted that too.

  Truthfully, when I really thought about Ashley, it wasn’t just as a sex object. I liked her. I always had. From that day when we’d gone to scout locations. And the shoot. Carrying her away from the glass, running through the halls playfully. It wasn’t nothing. And now we were sleeping together and when I looked at her, it was more than lust. Something deeper had begun to grow.

  But that had been before I’d found out about the Jack Jarvis thing. And now I wasn’t so sure. Was this how he’d lost it? Because she’d played this game with him, leaving him to think it just might go somewhere, letting him feel things. And then pulling the rug out from underneath him?

  I put my phone away without replying. I needed time to consider whether sex really was only sex with Ashley. And if it wasn’t, would I go around the bend just like Jack?

  ‘Hold on a sec, everyone’ I called, shutting the scene down in mid flow. I hated doing that, but I’d run out of time. Every moment counted. ‘Shane? When you look at Greg as you say that last line, I need to feel like you want to scream at him, but that you’re holding it in, holding everything in.’

  Shane turned to me, his brow furrowed. ‘I am trying to get that across.’

  ‘Yes, I know’ I said, trying to keep my tone kind. But it was tough. I was frustrated and so was he, I knew. But what I was looking for, what the scene needed, he wasn’t giving it.

  ‘OK, let’s try it one last time?’ I asked.

  ‘Where shall we pick up from?’ he asked.

  ‘Run it from the top. I’ll stop you if I need to.’

  And the scene ran again, as dryly as ever. The shame of it was, Greg was doing well. Given another scene partner, he would have done even better. But he had what he had. I was the one that wanted to scream now and just like Shane’s character, all I could do was keep it in.

  I felt a presence beside me. Kim had come down from the back. ‘You know what’s wrong, don’t you?’ she whispered quietly as the rehearsal continued in front of us.

  ‘Yep’ I muttered. I knew full well and I wasn’t in the mood to hear Kim telling me what I already knew.

  ‘Then you know what to do’ she said and stood, walking back up the aisle.

  I watched the scene and looked at my watch. Thirty minutes of rehearsal time left. If I blew this, Kim would rip me to shreds on Monday morning, while everyone looked on. And she’d probably heap praise on Jonny. Everyone would know that I didn’t really belong here, that I was just a runner up. That Jack was the one who should have been here. If Ashley hadn’t…

  ‘CUT!’ I yelled. Both actors broke off and turned to me. I thought I saw fear in Shane’s eyes. And I didn’t care. He was a nice guy but an inexperienced actor without much range and I couldn’t pussyfoot around it anymore. ‘Greg, why don’t you get a coffee?’ I said. Greg was off like a shot. The guy knew what was up.

  I was left alone with Shane. I did something I hadn’t done all week. I stepped onto the stage. ‘Shane’ I began, ‘You know this isn’t working, don’t you?’

  The glimmer of fear became a full picture. ‘But we go on tonight’ he said. ‘You can’t sack me.’

  ‘I’m not sacking you. But if you don’t do better, you understand that a lot of important people come to these things looking for talent, don’t you? You could really shoot yourself in the foot if you fuck it up.’

  He began to go red. This wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted anger, not shame. I had to push it, just a little further. I had to hurt this man. It was good for his art, I told myself. ‘Shane, what’s the problem exactly? Do I need to take you through this like a child?’

  I saw it then, a little puff in his cheeks. His temper had popped up. I’d found it. ‘You know Greg, he’s doing a great job here. But maybe that’s the problem. Is all this a little too close to home? Maybe you’ve got some Daddy issues that you can’t deal with?’

  ‘How dare you!’ Shane exploded. ‘That’s none of your business!’

  ‘No?’ I asked.

  ‘No. My private life is none of your fucking-’

  ‘Shane! That’s it!’ I cried, stopping him in his tracks. ‘That’s all I need. What you’re feeling right this second is precisely what I need you to feel in the scene. You put that behind every word in this play and you’ll kick the shit out it.’

  ‘What?’ he asked hesitantly. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘No, don’t lose it. I was rude to you and you’re angry. Keep a hold of it, Shane. Hate me! I’ve crossed a line! I’ve told you you’re a shitty actor and that you’re going to wreck your career if you fuck up. And I mean every word so prove me wrong!’

  Shane looked baffled, unsure of what he was supposed to do next. I could tell he half wanted to scream at me, tell me to fuck myself and walk off the stage. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. Greg walked back in and I turned to him. ‘Greg, get back up as quick as you can, we’re going to run the lines right now.’

  Greg asked no questions. He just jogged down to the stage and leapt on. And like a good soldier, he went straight into the first line.

  Shane had now caught up to what I’d just done to him. He was still deciding what to do next. He looked at me and back to Greg. And then he gave his second line. It was magical. That deep anger was present and it filled the scene with a crackle it had been missing all week.

  I let them run it right to the end and I knew we had it. And when it was time for the denouement, out it came, a rush of held down rage, grief, everything. It was a beautiful thing to see. And I’d dug it out of Shane. I felt a pride I’d never known.

  ‘Right, that’s time’ Kim called from the back. Shane’s shoulders slumped. It had taken something out of him, that performance.

  ‘Thanks guys’ I told the actors. ‘Fantastic work’ I said, making direct eye contact with Shane. He gave a smile and I knew he was happy with what he’d achieved too. He knew he’d nailed it. But I didn’t want him to get too cocky so I said, ‘Shane, you bring that tonight and we’ll have no more problems.’

  His grin slipped a touch. I watched the actors leave, taking a moment to think about what had happened. Kim walked down to me and she had a look on her face I’d never seen before. She looked pleased with me. ‘Congratulati
ons’ she said evenly, ‘You just became a real director.’

  Before I could respond to that, she added, ‘Now get out. It’s Janey’s turn.’

  I walked out, feeling like a transformation had taken place. Kim had called me a real director, which meant she felt I’d earned my place in her class, in the school. I belonged here after all. I really did.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I stood in front of the mirror, looking down at my outfit. I had to leave soon but I wanted to take a minute to assess. I was wearing my smartest jeans and my fanciest t shirt, silvery and flowy. Everyone was coming tonight. Kim and the other teacher, Pete, the dean of the school, the other directors as well as all the writers, not to mention a host of agents, producers and assorted ‘Useful’ people.