“I wouldn’t call it a sport.”
“But there are competitions involved.”
“Only for gym rats.”
“I read that you used to compete in indoor contests.”
“Used to.”
“If it’s not a sport, then what would you call it?”
“It’s an activity. A pastime.”
She was trying to keep her sound adjusted correctly, but his answers were too short to register reliable readings. “Tell me about the first time you went rock climbing,” she said. “Where did you go? How did it feel?”
“I can’t remember. I was five.”
Damn it. “Tell me about the first climb you remember, then.”
“I climbed the chimney on my house when I was in the fourth grade,” he said. “It was made of river rock.”
“How did you parents feel about that?”
“They didn’t know.”
“But if they had?”
Josh shrugged. “They would have been mad, I guess. It was three stories tall.”
His eyes shifted immediately to April’s left, which meant the camera lens. Had he been giving usable answers, the segment would have been ruined. Her breaths were fast and her brain was ready to short-circuit. How was she supposed to take control of the interview when she couldn’t even get control of herself?
“Was that in Las Vegas? What was it like to grow up there? What was your family like?”
“I don’t see what my family has to do with this film.”
Josh must hate her. Her career would be over if Danny saw this footage. She had to come up with something she could show the guys. Take a breath. Stay calm. This is your interview. You’re in charge.
“Describe what it was like the first time you saw the valley. And, please, repeat the first part of my question when you answer.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, say, ‘The first time I came to Yosemite, I couldn’t believe how tall the rocks were—’ And then continue on.”
“Are you supposed to be telling me what to say?”
Tears of frustration stung her eyes. Tears, April? Really? In the middle of an interview? He’s just a rock climber. This is not a test. Nobody’s watching. It’s just a short little interview with a difficult subject.
“No, it’s just that I need complete answers for sound bites,” she said. “The audience won’t have a context for your answer if you don’t repeat the question.”
“Except they’ll hear you asking the questions.”
Ooh, this guy! She had words for him, all right! That’s because your answers were so terrible in every other film you’ve been in that they had to leave the interviewer’s questions in.
She forced herself to remain professional. “Can you answer the question, please?” she asked.
“What was the question?”
“Your impression of Yosemite, the first time you came here.”
“I don’t remember. I probably thought it was beautiful like everyone else.”
How could a person be this awful to someone they didn’t even know? Those damn tears were still mounting, threatening to escape her eyelids. She was so frustrated and embarrassed, and definitely at her limit of having to sit here and fake that this wasn’t a completely messed-up situation. A traitorous tear slipped down her cheek. God! She hopped off the stool and ducked to safety behind the camera.
She no longer cared about the footage, she just had to get him out of there before she told him off or started to cry for real.
“Okay,” she said. Infuriatingly, her voice was a little shaky. “I think we have enough for today. Thank you!”
She busied herself disassembling the equipment as he stood and undid the microphone wires. The second he was around the corner, she slumped against the boulder, which was still warm from his body. It was not possible for the interview to have gone any worse.
There was nothing on the SD card that could be used, and she’d rather quit than have the guys watch the raw footage of this. But she couldn’t quit. Her degree. The loans. All the money she’d just spent on camping gear, and the fact that she had no job lined up after this.
She buried her face in her hands, now feeling defeated more than angry. It was all such a disaster. She had utterly and completely failed, and the film’s central character hated her.
And she missed her dad so much.
Chapter Six
The night had been rough, with it taking her hours and hours to coax her mind out of its agitated state from the interview. Getting hung up on things like this was commonplace now, but it usually only happened for things that were life-threatening or related to the crash. But then, in a way, this was life-threatening. Livelihood threatening. Josh Knox could singlehandedly ruin everything she’d been working for.
Now, she was sitting at a cafeteria table with Madigan, making no progress on her task of posting some pictures on Walkabout’s social media accounts. She kept replaying the interview in her head, trying to figure out where she had gone wrong or what she could have done differently. Over and over, she saw those stony looks of his. Those incredible brown-green eyes that had been wasted on a such a rude and abrasive personality.
She put her earphones on to watch yet another movie with Josh in it. Skipping past the climbing parts, she got straight to the interview section, where he was looking to the right of the camera even though the interviewer’s voice was coming from the left. She sighed and paused the clip.
“What’s up?” Madigan asked, peeking over at her laptop, where Josh sat in front of a bold panorama of snow-covered peaks. “Ah, Cerro Negro. That climb was groundbreaking.”
“But his interviews!” She paused to rein herself in. “I mean, I get that Josh is a really good climber and everything, but…”
“But what?”
“I just don’t understand why Danny picked him to be in the film.”
Madigan thought for a minute. “Well, Josh Knox is not only an amazing climber, he’s pretty much the centerpiece of the climbing world right now. To make a documentary like this without him—it would almost be sacrilegious. It would be like making a baseball movie without Derek Jeter.”
“But what does it matter? Josh is unlikable on film. This is for a mainstream audience, not a bunch of rock climbers. He’s going to ruin the entire project!”
So much for reining herself in. Madigan rested his elbows on the table. She’d gone too far. Madigan might be as friendly as a friend, but he was still her boss.
His face relaxed into amusement. “You’re right. It’s painful to watch. He’s a superstar on the rock, but off it, he’s a director’s nightmare.”
“Can we vote him off the film?”
“No.” He laughed. “But even if we could, I wouldn’t want to. The thing is, Josh embodies the spirit of climbing. He’s living the life every climber in the world wishes they were. Completely free. He’s pushed the limits of the sport beyond what anybody thought was possible, and then he kept going. He’s Edmund Hillary. He’s Muhammad Ali. He’s—”
“Okay! Enough! I get it!” It might be possible that she hated Josh Knox just as much as he hated her.
“You just have to remember that for everything he lacks in interviews, he makes up for in climbing. The things he can do shouldn’t be possible. You’ve seen footage of him climbing, right? It’s incredible to watch when he’s on something hard. And you’re right about the mainstream audience part—that’s what makes the interviews you’re doing so important. The audience has to be able to relate to him before they can appreciate what he can do.”
She frowned. Thanks, Madigan. Way to take the pressure off.
“I’m guessing the interview didn’t go well yesterday.”
“Yeah. I just don’t have good rapport with him, you know? He was short ending all my questions. I think he’d do better with someone who knows climbing.”
“I wouldn’t take it personally. He’s not the type to pour his heart out to someone he jus
t met. He’ll warm up.”
Doubtful. “I don’t know…maybe it would be better if I shadowed one of you instead of doing the next one myself. Maybe I’ll learn what I’m doing wrong.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not my call. But remember, Danny knows what he’s doing. He wouldn’t have given you this assignment if he didn’t think you were capable.”
She shouldn’t have said anything. Now it would get back to Danny that she was freaking out about her task. She rubbed her temples.
Madigan continued to watch her, then he shifted closer. “Okay, so I’m not supposed to say anything about this, but just between us, Vera had a few stipulations in funding this film. Josh Knox being the central character was number one.”
Her jaw dropped. He winked. “Yep. Danny didn’t want to work with him, either, but Vera wouldn’t budge.”
With a smile, she shook her head and closed her movie player.
“Danny has a history with Josh that colors this situation with the interviews,” he said. “He worked with him once before, in an episode he did for the American Geographic Channel, and he got so frustrated about how stubborn Josh was during the interview that it ended up affecting him when he was filming Josh’s climb. Danny’s a patient guy, but there is a limit. What we’re doing here is significantly more dangerous, especially with Josh’s Sorcerer climb, and Danny wants to keep his focus on the climb.”
Madigan packed up his laptop. “I have to get over to the business center for a conference call in a few minutes.” He looked at her as he stood. “You know, if you’re really not feeling comfortable with interviewing Josh, don’t be afraid to bring it up with Danny. Personally, I’m not convinced Theo or I—and especially not one of our contract videographers who Josh doesn’t know at all—would be getting anything different than you are. But talk to Danny. You guys might be able to work something out.”
In other words, ask for help.
It was just like the motivational poster she used to stare at in the campus psychiatry waiting room—a badly Photoshopped picture of a lake with a human hand sticking out: sometimes asking for help is the bravest move you can make.
This was not advice her father would have agreed with, but Madigan was right on. As much as she didn’t want to, it was probably smarter to admit that she was having trouble rather than having Danny figure it out himself after she’d wasted another week.
She nodded good-bye to Madigan as he took off through the cafeteria. She finished her social media posts and filled her coffee cup one more time before heading down the road to the station where they usually went to recharge the van’s power supply. Sure enough, the van was plugged in and Danny was inside, reviewing the B-roll she and Theo had taken of the valley’s waterfalls.
“Good stuff here. It’s been a dry spring, but we’re getting nice runoff right now,” he said. “Where’s your footage from the interview?”
“Um, I wanted to talk to you about that,” she said quietly. Apparently too quietly, because Danny hopped up and dug through one of the equipment bins for something, like she hadn’t said anything at all.
He grabbed a beat-up light meter and brushed it off on his shirt as he sat back down. “Before I forget, I need to ask a favor. It’s about the gala.”
She should have seen this coming. She, the lowest person on the totem pole, was going to have to film the event instead of kicking back and enjoying it. Typical.
“Josh is giving a speech there, and he’ll be sitting at Vera’s table with a bunch of VIPs. If you don’t mind terribly, I’d really appreciate it if you could be his date for the night.”
She choked down a gale of laughter.
“I didn’t mean to say date,” he said quickly. “You’d be more like an escort. A coordinator, really. Vera wants someone to help with his tux. Screen his speech. Help him be social at the gala. That kind of thing.”
Help Josh be social? Would this nightmare never end?
“Does Josh know about this?” she asked. “I don’t think he’d be very happy about it.”
“He’s not. I talked to him this morning. But he agreed as soon as I told him it was either you or Theo.”
Danny laughed, but April was far from amused. She couldn’t picture grungy Josh in a tuxedo, but she could picture him parked in his seat at the gala, scowling at his bejeweled billionaire hostess.
If a thirty-minute interview had pushed her to the limit, imagine how terrible a whole evening with Mr. Awful would be! It was about the last thing in the world she wanted to do, but picking out a tux, editing a speech, organizing wardrobe details, and schmoozing—these were things she couldn’t mess up if she tried, thanks to the countless air show functions she and her mom had attended with her dad. She so badly wanted—needed—to do well in Yosemite, to show Madigan and Theo and Danny that she was good at something. If she couldn’t prove her worth to the documentary film industry through relevant skills, then she would have to do it this way.
“Sure,” she said.
“Perfect, April, thank you.” Danny turned back to the monitor.
This was her chance to bring up the interview again, but instead of speaking, she fiddled with one of the power cords hanging near her seat. Tough interviews were something she would have to face in the future, especially with the kinds of films that she wanted to make someday, films that covered highly controversial topics. There would undoubtedly be individuals who wouldn’t want to talk, especially when it came to people who were accused of doing something wrong. These people would be way more hostile than Josh.
She thought about that hand sticking out of the water on the poster. Sorry, hand. At least for now, she was going to side with her dad.
April looped her laptop bag over her shoulder to leave. As much as she didn’t want to, she would give it another try and face Josh again all on her own before she resorted to asking for help.
…
Madigan looked up as soon as April returned to the campsite after calling her mom and asking her to send a dress. He was at one of the picnic tables, using a thick black marker to sketch storyboards.
“Looks like Flying Sheep is a go for tomorrow,” he said.
She sat at the table and scooted close to see his sketches. “All I’m doing is filming Josh coming over the top, right?”
“Yep. And a quick interview after.”
Of course. There had to be an interview involved. “He’s going to say, ‘It went fine,’ and that’s it,” she warned.
“Wear something cute and catch him off guard.”
“Madigan!”
“I’m just saying! You’re a woman. Use it to your advantage.”
She suspected the iron-willed Josh would be immune to any such tricks, but perhaps this could be a strategy for the gala. She could call her mom back and ask her to send a different dress, one with as little fabric as possible. Then she’d really be acting the part of escort.
“I’ll radio up to you once I finish shooting the off-width section,” Madigan said. “You’ll already have everything set up, but it will give you about a forty-minute warning. I’ll call up again when he’s about to go over the top.”
He drew a map on a blank page in his notebook.
“Now, this is a climber’s trail, so it’s not marked. You really need to pay close attention to my map or you’ll get lost. But if you do get lost, just go straight up.”
“Straight up. Got it.”
“The bottom part of the trail will be steep—very steep—so be careful, okay?”
He tore the map out of his notebook and handed it to her. His handwritten directions were neat and the drawing precise. The little notes with arrows, though, made her arm hairs tickle apprehensively.
Sheer cliff
Unstable edge, stay back
Look for the cairn, go left of the holly bush
“What’s a cairn?” she asked.
“A pile of rocks that marks a trail.”
“How do you know it’s a marker and not just a pile of rocks
?”
He reached under the picnic table and grabbed a few flat pebbles. He stacked them one on top of another until they were four high. “You’ll know because rocks in nature don’t look like this.”
He added a fifth pebble to the pile and it toppled into a heap that looked like any other pile of rocks in nature. She hoped it wasn’t an omen for tomorrow’s shoot. Or her internship in general.
…
April and Madigan spent the afternoon rehearsing top-out shots in the boulder field behind the search-and-rescue camp. It was hot, and the work was uncomfortable and dirty, and the more she thought about it, the more irritated she was that Josh needed a babysitter at the gala. Although she’d be good at the assignment, it was definitely going to be an awkward and uncomfortable evening.
She headed back to the campsite with a headache, just in time for tuna mac dinner duty. Her partner was Theo, who wasn’t much help, but at least he volunteered to go drain all the cans of stinky fish in the bathroom scullery room.
“Bear, Hollywood!” he yelled from the other side of the campsite when he returned.
She jumped. He cackled. “Want a beer?”
To hell with her bladder. Tonight, she needed the alcohol.
Josh was a no-show to dinner—big surprise. He hadn’t joined them since the first night. The guys said he had been hiking to the top of El Cap in the evenings to practice his BASE jumping—illegal in all national parks—under the cover of darkness. Since he hadn’t said he was not coming, she’d had to make a whole extra box of macaroni just in case he came, and now it would go to waste.
As the four of them ate, she stared at the line of flickering votives on the table. It was such an over-the-top romantic touch for this completely nonromantic setting.
April drank a second beer after dinner while hanging out around the campfire with the guys. She pretended to listen to their stories of film shoots past, but in her head, she was running through an imaginary alternate-reality interview with Josh.
“Can you please find a way to sit so that the audience doesn’t think you have a crochet hook up your ass?”
Lessons In Gravity Page 5
