by M. S. Parker
April’s demands continued until even Henry started to look embarrassed. While he was busy trying to reason with her, I decided I’d had enough of her antics. I stifled the urge to shake my head as I poured Alex another glass of orange juice, and then headed back inside. As I opened the screen door I paused and looked back at the group around the table. Alex turned away from the two bickering co-workers and caught my eye. He smiled and mouthed thank you, and then winked. I smiled back and continued on into the kitchen.
Still, things weren't sitting right. I didn’t trust April, or Henry for that matter. Alex may have won this time, but knowing April, this was just round one. It was difficult to manipulate a manipulator, and as I began to wash the dishes, I wondered what else she had up her Gucci-designed sleeves.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Alex
I raked a hand through my hair and paced the set, suddenly doubting all of my choices. Dammit. Maybe the coffee shop scene wasn’t unique enough. It was just supposed to show a connection before the main character and his love interest knew each other. The way people can be perfect for each other, but ricochet around the world, never crossing paths. I worried that it’d look like every other opening scene in every other movie that’d been shot a million times before.
I began to feel a cold sheen of sweat break out on my forehead, and I started to worry that I'd had too much of my own coffee that morning.
To add to my worries, the five minute scene was taking nearly two hours to set up, and my stomach was in knots. I had to stop this or I’d end up with a premature case of ulcers. As the lighting technicians finished adjusting the gels, I stepped back trying to get a new perspective, hoping that would calm my nerves. I crossed my arms over my chest and scanned the set. What would Chelsea think of it if she were here?
The coffee shop set was plain, but was it good enough? Was the clutter on the counter too random? Should it be more organized? Did it disrupt the audience’s view?
I took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. It was fine, and Chelsea would agree. Why was I so worried? The set looked realistic, and the scene would play out exactly the way things happen in real life. A quick, seemingly meaningless encounter at a coffee shop, then when the two characters talk about it later on, they would think there'd been a guiding hand nudging them toward their fates.
Like Chelsea and I meeting on the website. My cyber joke on my old man could’ve gone one of a hundred ways. I could’ve met another April, hell bent on a free ticket to Hollywood or a rich husband. Or both in April’s case. Instead, I'd met Chelsea, and I thanked my lucky stars that Karma had smiled on me for once. Just thinking about Chelsea waiting at home was enough to make me feel calmer.
“We’re ready,” a production assistant told me as he rushed past me, heading to April’s enormous star trailer. She wasn’t actually in the coffee shop scene, just doing a voice-over narration. It'd been Chelsea’s brilliant suggestion, and the thought of April not getting her way had me smiling even wider.
The actor playing the main character popped up next to me, rubbing his hands together with nervous excitement. He wasn't a big name, but definitely an up-and-comer. He had the acting chops to go with the looks and, unlike many actors of the same age, didn't seem to have any problems with substance abuse.
“I’m ready,” he said. “The set looks good, and I like your choice for an opening scene. It feels like the right entry point.”
“Entry point. I like that,” I agreed as he found his mark and made himself comfortable.
It was time. I released the deep breath I was holding, anxious to get started. When the actress playing the true love interest walked out, I nearly laughed out loud. Her black hair was short and waved gently, different than Chelsea’s, but she had the same wide blue eyes, details I'd decided I should keep from Chelsea for now.
The actress found her mark and a voice whispered from behind me. “Mr. Silverhaus, we have a problem.”
I turned to face a terrified production assistant who continued in a whisper, “Ms. Temple refuses to come out of her trailer. I couldn’t understand exactly what she was saying, but she was yelling…well, more like screaming.”
What the fuck? I tried to remain calm on the outside.
“Hmm.” I tapped my finger to my chin trying to keep from exploding. “Screaming? Kind of like a high-pitched shrieking?”
He nodded with a worried look on his face. “Yeah. Something about script approval…I guess?”
The poor guy was sweating bullets. Not a good sign.
I closed my eyes, my hands on the canvas director’s chair in front of me strangling the fabric with clenched fists. It’d taken April all of five minutes before shooting began to realize she wasn’t starring in the scene. I had to think of something fast before she read through more scenes and discovered she wasn’t the center of attention anymore. When the hell had she decided to actually read everything?
I straightened and told the P.A., “Tell her we’re just trying out something, and I have a second shoot of the scene planned.” He just blinked at me and didn’t say a word, as if I’d just sentenced him to a firing squad. “Sorry, man. I feel your pain, but don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you.”
I clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. The young man nodded, but I could’ve sworn he gulped as he led the way off set to April’s enormous star trailer. The hulking vehicle blocked one entire door of the sound stage and most of the crew muttered as they detoured around it during their workday. He shuffled around it and knocked softly on the screen door of the RV.
“Just wait until my agent hears about this!” April shrilled inside. “Better yet, wait until the head of the studio hears about this!”
“Ms…uh…Ms. Temple?” the P.A. squeaked. “Mr. Silverhaus said they’re just trying something. There…uh…there’s gonna be a second shoot later on.”
“Mr. Silverhaus?” April shouted through the thin door. “You mean the one in charge of the studio, or the one that’s trying to ruin my career?”
A heavy object hit the door and the P.A. flinched as if he’d already been the target of April’s projectiles. He looked at me and shrugged helplessly.
“Maybe you should talk to him yourself.” He spoke to April through the door, but looked at me with begging eyes.
I heard shredding sounds and speculated that April was mauling the pages for today. I waved away the assistant and stepped closer to the screen door. I leaned a hand against the side of the RV and tried to peer inside. Only the top half of the flimsy aluminum door had a screen, but the screen was made of black mesh and it was difficult to see in. Although I couldn’t see her, I could hear her just fine. Hell, everyone on the movie lot could hear her. Whenever April was upset and yelling like this, she made it a point to incorporate her famous ear-bleeding scream into her voice.
“April? What’s going on?” I barked.
The door to the mammoth trailer flung open and I jumped back when it nearly knocked me in the nose. April posed in the door, as her eyes swept the lot to make sure there was an audience.
“You’re ruining my career!” she yelled.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. Nothing’s on camera, yet,” I said. “Can we just get this scene done before lunch?”
“What scene?” She scowled at me. “As far as I see, it’s just me narrating a bunch of people in a cafe. I’m a star, not a spokesperson. People bring me coffee.”
“Exactly,” I said, stepping close to look up at her. “It’s just a regular life scene in a coffee shop. It’s only going to be five minutes, and that’s why you’re just narrating it.”
“Then who’s she?” April asked, stabbing a bright red nail into the wrinkled pages of the script she’d tried to shred earlier.
I peered at the script pretending like I hadn’t seen it before.
“She has more lines than I do!” April said with another stab.
“She doesn’t have any lines in this scene,” I said, exasperated.
The script she was holding was an old draft. Chelsea had brilliantly suggested giving the old one to April and then we’d pop the revised draft in on filming day, the one that had April as the past love interest and not the true love interest in the story. However, I’d underestimated April’s cunning.
I sighed. “I’ll send a copy of the scene to your agent.” Hours of set-up had just been ruined, and now it looked like we were going to lose half a day on the first day of shooting.
I trudged back to set and felt the tension pulling on my shoulders. Producing was a new and exciting challenge, but the weight of it was exhausting, and I was getting frazzled. All of my decisions would set the tone for the entire shoot. If I lost control now, everything could unravel. I’d seen it happen before on my father’s sets.
The director walked over to where I stood and said, “I just heard we’re scrapping the narration. Are you sure you want to do that?” He threw a glance back at the actors still hovering around on the set. “They just rehearsed it and it moves the scene forward.”
I pinched my thumb and finger to the bridge of my nose. “Have the script manager read it.” I exhaled. “If we don’t add it in post, then we’ll spend a little money for a recognizable voice.”
The director nodded. “Good thinking. Celebrity voice-over would be great for the trailers too.”
I sank into a director’s chair behind the monitors as the director took over, and the first of many takes started. I ran my hands over my face and relaxed back into my chair, ready to watch as the script manager read April's part. It all worked out in the end and she did a good job filling in for April. I had to smile when she even stuck out her hip, ala April Temple style as she read.
I looked around at the crew members’ faces and everyone was smiling. I could tell it was a good scene. The director thought so too, but still, he called for eight takes. I wasn’t going to sweat the load, though. Eight takes wasn’t unusual in this business, especially so we could get all the angles. Once it was done, all eyes turned to me, and the heat was on again.
I sat up in my chair, invigorated by the way things were going now. I was beginning to get the hang of this. It was like being up to bat in the big game. Problems were being pitched at me a hundred miles an hour, and I had to make quick decisions that would whack the problem away and lead us to victory. It was a powerful feeling for sure. I could see why my father liked it. It'd be easy to let it go to my head.
I began to get my confidence back as I clicked off my orders with a crisp decisiveness. “Actors can finish up fittings with wardrobe and break early for lunch,” I said. “Call up the extras and let’s get our exteriors and crowd scenes started. We’ll see where we are after that.”
My happy hiatus from gray hairs and high blood pressure was short lived, however. A brief five minutes later, a make-up artist ran up to my seat like the back lot was on fire. My stomach sank when I saw the look on her face and she said, “They’ve got a problem in wardrobe and you need to get in there, fast.”
I knew before I rounded the corner what I would find. Fucking April. There she stood, feet in a wide stance like a gunslinger, in the center aisle of the wardrobe room, her face contorted with an angry scowl. On the opposite end of the room stood the new actress and a shocked seamstress, trapped by her fitting. I could tell the new actress was trying to ignore April, but that was impossible. April was anything but ignorable. My head dropped back as I looked up to the heavens, cursing my father for putting me in this position. Again.
“Whose dick did you have to suck to get here?” April spat out the words at the Chelsea look-alike.
Extras and assistants were edging away as April stalked toward her prey. The new actress just looked at April, determined to ignore the insults in a way that made me admire her.
“I’m supposed to be the star, now suddenly they’ve added you, at the last minute…jumping right into scenes with the hero. It had to be someone high up.” April was on the poor woman now, shooting daggers from her eyes.
But the girl stood her ground. “I have a good agent. Want me to get you his card?” she asked.
April lunged for her, clawing at her dress and the seamstress who’d been altering her costume leapt back with pins still in her mouth.
The half-finished costume ripped as April spun the actress around. She pulled her close and barked in her face, “You’re the one who sent the tabloids that story, aren’t you? You’re trying to ruin my chances.” She looked to the others and said, “Don’t be fooled, she’s a snake. Now that she’s slithered on set you all better watch out.”
The young actress went pale and stammered out a few words of protest, but the damage was already done. The crew was confused and looked at the new actress with questioning eyes, as if April might be right. The poor girl had been humiliated. She recoiled, pulling her torn costume together and fled April’s false accusations.
I threw my hands in the air as she tore past me in tears.
“Alright everyone,” I called out. “Calm down. Let’s just all…fuck it, just…go to lunch.”
Now I understood why my father used to keep a flask of Scotch in his briefcase when he was on set. I spun on my heels and strode out of wardrobe, fighting the urge to go for a long lunch in a dark bar or choke the shit out of April. That woman drove me to want to do violent things. Instead, I retreated to sit in my car, clenching my teeth and feeling like I’d just struck out with a hundred mile an hour curve ball from April.
Neither Henry nor his Scotch would help now. I needed to talk to Chelsea. She’d understand. I fished my cell phone out of my pocket and called the house. When Chelsea answered, a wave of warmth washed over me and a smile replaced the tension in my jaw.
“Just calling in from hell,” I quipped, sarcastically. “How’s your day going?”
Chelsea laughed. “That doesn’t sound very good. Rough start?”
“Let’s just put it this way…please, tell Jamison to make sure the bar is fully stocked for when I get home.”
“Ah, I see. Lots of problems?”
“No. Just one…one big, blonde one.”
“April. I take it the rewrite didn’t go well, then.”
“Didn’t go well? You might say that.” I gave a short laugh. “It was more like a disaster. I suck at this. My dad made it all look so easy. Every time I felt like I really had things under control, you know, like I was a master conductor coordinating everything into a perfectly synchronized concerto, fucking April…I mean, freaking April threw a wrench in the works.”
“Whoa. I see.”
“I wish you were here, Chelsea.” I settled back into my car seat and felt the tension easing out of my shoulders. “Talking to you makes me feel better. Anyway, April decided today was a good time to start practicing her lines and she read through the script.”
“Oh, no.”
“Yeah, she noticed the changes,” I said.
“Darn, I thought for sure she wouldn’t see it until she was on set,” she said.
“One of our production assistants arrived just as she realized she was only narrating, and not starring,” I told her. “Everything exploded and I think my blood pressure may have gone through the roof.” I chuckled. “Being a producer isn’t as easy as I thought. You handle stress better than I do. You should be a producer. Seriously. Where’d you learn to roll with the punches so well?”
“Oh, me? Well, foster kids learn to adapt, sort of a lifelong habit,” she said.
“Foster care?” I asked, sitting up in my seat, suddenly distracted from my own crazy morning.
“Um, yeah, my brother and I were orphaned when I was eight,” she said on a quick breath. “Anything else exciting happen on set?”
I wanted to reach through the phone and tip her chin up so I could look into her mysterious b
lue eyes. How’d I not known she was an orphan? And she had a brother? I swallowed hard, realizing what a dickhead I’d been, acting like a spoiled rich boy who expects life to rotate around him.
“I didn’t know you have a brother. Older?” I asked.
“No, younger.” There was a pause as I waited for her to explain, but she didn’t.
“Well…is he in Portland?”
“Yes.”
Something in her voice and her short answers told me she didn’t want to chat about it over the phone.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. And, yes, other exciting things happened on set,” I said. “Did I tell you April made the new actress cry?”
Chelsea’s voice returned to normal. “That’s terrible! Not surprising, but terrible.”
“April accused her of trying to sell false stories to tabloids in order to ruin her career. The poor girl had no idea what to say,” I said.
“Well, your crew is intelligent. They’ll figure out April’s lies soon enough,” she said. “I mean, she has a reputation already.”
“Now tell me about your day. I really wish I could be by the pool right now. Or, better yet, swimming, with you, my little water nymph.”
I imagined her blushing as she smiled.
To my amusement, she taunted me, “I might just have to go for a swim myself after I finish all my work today.”
“Oh, you tease…please continue.”
I leaned back on the headrest and let that mental image come into focus. Chelsea naked in the pool, the tips of her black hair drifting on the surface of the water, and clinging to the swell of her breasts. The feel of the water swirling between us as I pull her close.
Chelsea’s voice was thick as she cleared her throat. “Well, you’d be bored here. Not enough drama.”
I groaned, “Why’d I decide to be the producer? I should’ve just invested some money and bought an executive producer credit along with a screenwriter credit. I could be waiting for you in the water right now.”
