Unwritten
Page 9
“This production has had one setback after the next,” he’s saying. “Some people even said it was cursed. But we’re here now, and I want you to know, each and every one of you is a part of making this movie happen. So, before things get crazy, I just want to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”
He applauds us, and we all join in. I feel another thrill. I know from reading the blogs that Dash is friends with Blake; he made a couple of short films, and one shoestring indie movie before this. I watched the movie, and I liked it a lot: he has a lush, romantic style, and I can’t wait to see what he does with this script.
“Let’s get rolling!” he announces, clapping his hands together. “Set up for act three, scene six!”
The crew disperses. I’m confused for a minute, then I remember: movies are shot out of sequence. The scene we’re filming today is actually the break-up between Blake and Lila’s characters, and it’ll come near the end of the movie. It’s just one of the odd things I’m learning about how a film is really made.
I hurry over to Lila. “Here’s your coffee,” I say, holding it out. She turns sharply, knocking my hand and spilling it all over me. I jump back, but it’s too late. I yelp as the hot liquid spills across my bare hand and Lila lets out a shriek too.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, ignoring my pain. “Are you OK?”
“Do I look OK?” Lila’s voice rises. “You ruined my dress!”
I search, panicked, but I don’t see a mark on her.
“Here!” she yells, pointing to a tiny fleck of brown, hidden on the very edge of her skirt. “Now the whole scene is delayed, I’ll have to go back to wardrobe to change! What the hell were you thinking, being so clumsy?”
I feel terrible. Everyone turns to stare at us. I wish the ground would swallow me up.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “But it’s fine, really. You can’t see a thing.”
“Who the hell cares what you think?” Lila looks on the verge of tears. “Wardrobe?” she screeches. “Wardrobe!”
Kira comes rushing over. “What’s the problem, Miss Moore? Are we ready to shoot?”
“This stupid intern spilled coffee all over me.” She folds her arms.
“It was an accident,” I pipe up, but Kira just glares.
“I apologize, we’ll get this cleaned up.”
“And keep her away from me,” Lila pouts. “God, can’t you people find anyone to do your job right? It was a simple request!”
“Of course,” Kira soothes her. “Zoey,” she barks, “Get this mess cleaned up and get out of here.”
“But—”
“Now!” Kira turns back to Lila. “Let’s get you changed,” she says, soothingly. “You know what? This is for the best. I know Dash loved you in the blue, he went back and forth all night over it.” She steers Lila towards the costume trailer, reassuring her the whole way.
I look around, my cheeks red. People are still staring and whispering, but I catch a few sympathetic smiles too.
I pull myself together and smile back. Lila isn’t the first outrageous boss I’ve dealt with. Hell, if she spent three minutes with Garance, my old Editor-in-Chief at Deja Vu, she’d probably leave the room in tears. Spilled coffee is nothing compared to the designer shoes Garance would hurl around whenever she got mad.
I quickly clean up and go help out the camera guys, unloading lenses on the other side of the street. I keep my distance from the center of the action—and Lila—for the rest of the morning, even though I’m dying to see them run the scene. I can hear the distant sound of the director, Dash, yelling, “Cut! Roll take…” but I can only imagine what’s happening. It’s driving me crazy to be shut out of the action, but I know it’s safer to lie low today and let Lila forget about the whole coffee thing. Chances are by tomorrow, she won’t even recognize my face.
“Want a coffee?”
I turn. Blake is leaning in the doorway with a broad smile on his face.
I groan. “You heard?”
“The way Lila was screaming, I think they heard in Virginia Beach.” He gives me a supportive look. “You OK?”
“Great. Believe me, it takes more than a starlet in meltdown to throw me off my game,” I add.
“Glad to hear it. Listen, I’ve got to get back, but you want to grab a drink tonight? Celebrate our first day on the gig.”
I blink. “Sure, I mean, yes.” My heart rises.
Blake grins. “Awesome. Jimmy’s Bar around eight. See you there.” He saunters away, leaving my heart racing.
A date!
I hug myself with excitement. I didn’t realize it would be so simple, but now I can’t wait to spend the evening alone with him and really connect.
My giddy moment is cut short by Kira’s voice, crackling to life over the walkie-talkies we use on set. “Did you get finished with the schedule?” she asks, her voice still curt from earlier.
“I’ll be right there.”
4.
The actors like Blake can leave set whenever they’re done shooting their scenes, but the rest of us work late dismantling all the equipment, packing it away, and getting things organized for the next day’s work. It’s after seven by the time I finally manage to finish work and rush back to the B&B. In all the rush to find a place to stay in town, I was lucky to get a room here. It’s a charming old Cape Cod-style house, set just back from the beach, with wild roses and honeysuckle growing over the porch. Mrs. Olsen has crammed the downstairs with nautical souvenirs and tchotchkes, and loves to hold court chatting to the guests every evening with wine and cheese served in the oak-paneled dining room.
He applauds us, and we all join in. I feel another thrill. I know from reading the blogs that Dash is friends with Blake; he made a couple of short films, and one shoestring indie movie before this. I watched the movie, and I liked it a lot: he has a lush, romantic style, and I can’t wait to see what he does with this script.
“Let’s get rolling!” he announces, clapping his hands together. “Set up for act three, scene six!”
The crew disperses. I’m confused for a minute, then I remember: movies are shot out of sequence. The scene we’re filming today is actually the break-up between Blake and Lila’s characters, and it’ll come near the end of the movie. It’s just one of the odd things I’m learning about how a film is really made.
I hurry over to Lila. “Here’s your coffee,” I say, holding it out. She turns sharply, knocking my hand and spilling it all over me. I jump back, but it’s too late. I yelp as the hot liquid spills across my bare hand and Lila lets out a shriek too.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, ignoring my pain. “Are you OK?”
“Do I look OK?” Lila’s voice rises. “You ruined my dress!”
I search, panicked, but I don’t see a mark on her.
“Here!” she yells, pointing to a tiny fleck of brown, hidden on the very edge of her skirt. “Now the whole scene is delayed, I’ll have to go back to wardrobe to change! What the hell were you thinking, being so clumsy?”
I feel terrible. Everyone turns to stare at us. I wish the ground would swallow me up.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “But it’s fine, really. You can’t see a thing.”
“Who the hell cares what you think?” Lila looks on the verge of tears. “Wardrobe?” she screeches. “Wardrobe!”
Kira comes rushing over. “What’s the problem, Miss Moore? Are we ready to shoot?”
“This stupid intern spilled coffee all over me.” She folds her arms.
“It was an accident,” I pipe up, but Kira just glares.
“I apologize, we’ll get this cleaned up.”
“And keep her away from me,” Lila pouts. “God, can’t you people find anyone to do your job right? It was a simple request!”
“Of course,” Kira soothes her. “Zoey,” she barks, “Get this mess cleaned up and get out of here.”
“But—”
“Now!” Kira turns back to Lila. “Let’s get you changed,” she says, soothingly. “You know what? This is for the best. I know Dash loved you in the blue, he went back and forth all night over it.” She steers Lila towards the costume trailer, reassuring her the whole way.
I look around, my cheeks red. People are still staring and whispering, but I catch a few sympathetic smiles too.
I pull myself together and smile back. Lila isn’t the first outrageous boss I’ve dealt with. Hell, if she spent three minutes with Garance, my old Editor-in-Chief at Deja Vu, she’d probably leave the room in tears. Spilled coffee is nothing compared to the designer shoes Garance would hurl around whenever she got mad.
I quickly clean up and go help out the camera guys, unloading lenses on the other side of the street. I keep my distance from the center of the action—and Lila—for the rest of the morning, even though I’m dying to see them run the scene. I can hear the distant sound of the director, Dash, yelling, “Cut! Roll take…” but I can only imagine what’s happening. It’s driving me crazy to be shut out of the action, but I know it’s safer to lie low today and let Lila forget about the whole coffee thing. Chances are by tomorrow, she won’t even recognize my face.
“Want a coffee?”
I turn. Blake is leaning in the doorway with a broad smile on his face.
I groan. “You heard?”
“The way Lila was screaming, I think they heard in Virginia Beach.” He gives me a supportive look. “You OK?”
“Great. Believe me, it takes more than a starlet in meltdown to throw me off my game,” I add.
“Glad to hear it. Listen, I’ve got to get back, but you want to grab a drink tonight? Celebrate our first day on the gig.”
I blink. “Sure, I mean, yes.” My heart rises.
Blake grins. “Awesome. Jimmy’s Bar around eight. See you there.” He saunters away, leaving my heart racing.
A date!
I hug myself with excitement. I didn’t realize it would be so simple, but now I can’t wait to spend the evening alone with him and really connect.
My giddy moment is cut short by Kira’s voice, crackling to life over the walkie-talkies we use on set. “Did you get finished with the schedule?” she asks, her voice still curt from earlier.
“I’ll be right there.”
4.
The actors like Blake can leave set whenever they’re done shooting their scenes, but the rest of us work late dismantling all the equipment, packing it away, and getting things organized for the next day’s work. It’s after seven by the time I finally manage to finish work and rush back to the B&B. In all the rush to find a place to stay in town, I was lucky to get a room here. It’s a charming old Cape Cod-style house, set just back from the beach, with wild roses and honeysuckle growing over the porch. Mrs. Olsen has crammed the downstairs with nautical souvenirs and tchotchkes, and loves to hold court chatting to the guests every evening with wine and cheese served in the oak-paneled dining room.
