by Jackson Kane
“Mother of Dragons!” He peeled off his last sock and triumphantly threw it down with a wet slap. Completely immune to the spectacle, the fireman sprayed the sock with a sad little burst from his extinguisher. Frost nodded to the man feigning the same serious tone, then put on his robe and flip flops.
I crossed my arms and waited for him do be done, a wide smile across my face.
The director and producer clapped as they came over to shake Frost's hand and thank him for a great job today. Like the attention whore he was, Frost had this way of humbly basking in praise. It was annoying as hell, but that was only because I knew he was doing it. Everyone else just called it magnetic charm.
Frost was always the little rock star who got off on impressing people. Keats and I were more private, not that that made us any closer. If anything it’s what drove us further apart.
“How'd it look?” Frost asked, throwing an arm over my shoulder as we walked of set. He smelled like an overdone brisket with a bad spice rub. Lunch had just been called so people fell in all around us on their way to catering.
“A little hammy, but nothing too noticeable.”
“Yeah? Shit. I felt that toward the end. I gotta reign in my reactions more.” He cocked his head to the side and fingered gobs of gel out of each ear. “Thanks for running safety.”
“No worries.” It was the first time I’d seen him work in person. Now that the studio knew we were related there was no harm in filling in on his safety team.
“It’s good to see you, big bro.” He smiled with that infectious toothy grin. “You sticking around?”
“Might as well.” I shrugged. I couldn’t train Autumn today. Production picked her up for fittings and a full cast table reading to check everyone’s progress. “You want me to grab you some lunch?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind. But eat without me. After I clean this crap off, someone’s swinging by my trailer for a quick meeting. I shouldn’t be more than an hour.”
“Sure.” I peeled off with everyone else when we hit the bottom of the stairs.
After stopping by catering and chatting with some people I recognized for a about an hour or so, I walked along the long line of closely packed trailers in base camp with our food. The whole area was a hub of activity in the way a beehive was when someone kicked it. Frost might be wrapped, but the rest of production had a full day left to film.
Assistant Directors, Director’s Assistants and Production Assistants busily scurried between a never ending stream of arriving and departing vehicles to deliver paperwork and five minute warnings to the cast. The transportation guys ferried actors, crew and equipment back and forth to dozens of locations while grumbling that the useless security officers weren't keeping the travel lanes open enough.
As a stunt coordinator, there was a lot to keep track of. You needed all your guys, pads and rigging in the right place, then there were all the safety reviews, wardrobe checks and last minute filming order changes to deal with. It was nice being on set for a change and not having to worry about any of that.
I knocked on Frost's trailer door loudly. Normally I'd have just walked in after that, but I needed a moment to adjust the food containers to better grab the door handle. It was a good thing I did, because when the door opened it wasn't my brother.
“I'm sorry. I thought I had my brother's trailer,” I said, stepping down the two-step metal stair. I'd never personally met the actress that answered the door, but it was impossible not to recognize Claudia Miller after her sexy Rolling Stone cover. Her signature curly, golden hair was wet from a shower. I didn’t know she was in this movie.
Did I come to the wrong trailer? I'd never done that before.
Claudia straightened her blouse and stepped down the short flight, letting the door carelessly swing closed behind her. She walked past me without turning back and wore a smug, satisfied smile. “You do.”
Leaning to the side, I checked the outside of the door. The white tape strip, they used to mark all the trailers, was sharpied with the words Stunts Frost. I shook my head and pulled open the door. Of course I had the right trailer.
“What took you so long? I'm starved, man!” Frost was shirtless and half laying on the couch. He was still wet from the shower too.
“I got caught up.” I slid both food containers across the small counter by entrance and closed the door behind me. Where I prided myself on my on-set professionalism, Frost was the complete opposite. “I see you did too.”
I had no idea how he got away with half the shit he did.
Frost offered up a casual, guilty-as-charged shrug, then reached for his food. With his longer, layered hair and trim, tattoo-less swimmer's body Frost looked more like a surfer than anything. The thing that always got me when I saw him shirtless was his lack of scars. For a man who set himself on fire at least once a week professionally, it blew my mind that his body was utterly unmarked.
I was both impressed and a little irritated by that, if I was being honest.
“I have no idea how you can do that,” I leaned against the counter and worked the plastic knife and fork through my now lukewarm bacon-wrapped filet mignon. “Did Dad not teach you anything?”
“What are you talking about?” Frost objected loudly through a mouth full of food. He chewed, waving his plastic fork around long before swallowing to finish his point. “Before he met Lucy, Dad did this all the time! Hell, that's how he met her.”
“Remind me. What happened to them?” I asked gravely.
Frost grimaced from the verbal sucker punch, then glanced away. He knew better than to answer. Instead, he drained half a bottle of water and decided to change the subject. “Any word from Keats?”
“Me? What do you think?” I scoffed with dismissive sarcasm. In a family of black sheep, our brother, Keats, made us look like fluffy white lambs by comparison. “Last I heard he was somewhere in the Midwest crashing cars in whatever's left of that thrill show.”
Keats was always distant, but took Dad's death the hardest and hasn't talked to any of us since. Frost hoped that the tragedy would bring Keats back into the family the same way it did for me. I wasn’t nearly as optimistic, especially since I inherited everything from our father, much of which Keats felt he had a claim to. I reached out a few times telling Keats he could have whatever he wanted, but the only response I ever got was for me to go fuck myself.
“Don’t write him off just yet.” Frost smirked despite his mouth being full, making him look like a mischievous blow fish. His light, carefree tone quickly returned. “After all, even you came back from…wherever the fuck you were. Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”
“Don’t go holding your breath, Frost.” The stabbing pain in my conscience forced me to look away. I hadn’t become as close with Frost as I’d have liked to these past few years. A small part of me always knew that things would go south and I’d have to disappear so I kept a little distance. “Sometimes you have to just let people go.”
“What’s going on with you, Dracula?” Frost’s eyes narrowed over the top of the Styrofoam container as he shoveled the last few spoons of rice in to his mouth. “You get anymore broody and you’ll make Keats jealous. “
“It’s this girl I’m training.” I changed the subject before Frost pressed further. For as bad as I felt for leaving Frost when I was done with Autumn, I knew that it was the right thing to do. It would get so much worse for the people I cared about if Mitch caught ever up to me. He would use them as leverage to get me back.
“What about her?” Frost asked, drinking the last of his water. Frost could see it on my face somehow. For someone as inwardly focused as Frost, he could be surprisingly perceptive on occasion. His concern fell away to raised eyebrows and the creased lips of a budding smirk. “She's cute. Are you—”
Then he's got to go and ruin it.
“You know I'm not.” I cut him off too quickly to maintain my passive reserve. I gave up on the useless plastic cutlery and took the round cut of steak in my hand. I sank into the
plush couch opposite him, laid my ankle on my knee in an easy figure four position and draped my arm along the top of the headrest. Still, I couldn't get comfortable. Glancing out the window, I thought of Autumn.
Frost leaned forward, propping his elbows onto his knees and studied my face with intense skepticism, then loudly cleared his throat.
“Any more.” I relented, tearing into the juicy steak like an apple. “I didn’t know I’d be working with her again.”
“Completely innocent mistake. You nailed her by total accident.” Frost shrugged. Content, he leaned back into his couch and put his hands behind his head, smiling. It was the annoying small victories that siblings reveled in.
“Either way, that’s not the issue.” I raised an eyebrow, glaring at him. Then I finished the steak and reined the conversation back on topic. “It's her training.”
“So, what's the deal? She dragging her feet?” He asked, only now focusing on what was important because he'd won a game I wasn't playing. “I got three days in Scotland next week for the new James Bond, but after that I'm free if you need a hand.”
“Two people yelling at her aren’t going to help anything.” Wiping my face with a napkin, I made my way to the trailer's sink to clean up.
“I wasn't going to yell at her, Professor Snape.” Frost chuckled, shaking his head. “You and I train much differently.”
“Clearly.” I dried my hands and cocked my head toward the door the actress left by. Frost wore a proud-almost-beaming smile at being called out for his indiscretions. “My actress is off limits.”
Frost put up his hands in proud mock surrender.
I placed a hand on the wall and looked out the window at all the industry veterans rushing around. There was a method to their madness. They understood and embraced the chaos, they thrived in it. Autumn would be lucky to survive it all.
“Autumn doesn't belong here, Frost.” I felt a pang of regret as my conscience tried to claw out of the mound of justifications I buried it under. The girl was in way over her head, but what could I do about that? I needed her to be ready just as much as the studio did.
“She hopeless?” He picked at his teeth
“She's not hopeless. She's works hard and technically she's learning the skills. Given six months I could make her into a force to be reckoned with. I need to give her the appropriate foundation, layer in her skills—fuck there’s so much she needs to learn.” I tapped lightly on the trailer wall with my fist, irritated that the studio didn't give me the time I needed to make any of this work.
Autumn had to be screen ready within the month. Most actors had six times that amount of lead before a project started. And those actors were typically seasoned from years in the industry, not completely green like Autumn. Autumn didn't have to just become a stuntwoman, as if that wasn't hard enough, but also a real actress as well.
What we were doing wasn't just difficult, it was borderline impossible. I felt like I was bashing my head against a wall here for all the difference it was making.
“The passion isn't there for her.” I turned back to Frost. “She's not like us.”
“No shit. Not many people are, man.” Frost grinned, satisfied with his own superiority. He had a habit of missing the forest for the trees. “That's why we get the work.”
“That's not what I mean. It feels like she's here because she has to be not because she wants to be.” I didn't like being vague, but this was difficult to quantify. A lack of conviction always bled into the camera. And studio executives were trained to smell blood. Frost knew that better than most. “There's no way she's going to be ready in time. Autumn's nowhere near where I need her to be. Hell, the girl doesn't even have her driver’s license.”
“Wow, really?” Frost’s head snapped back in disbelief. “And you’re teaching her flying nineties and one-eighties. Ha!”
“I—” I exhaled sharply, organizing my thoughts. “I don't know if I can do this.”
Frost's eyebrows scrunched together, forming a deep, surprised V. He could see the uncertainty written across my face. Maybe that was the real reason I came here? I needed a place to vent.
And Frost was all I had.
When people put their lives literally in my hands, they were counting on me to always be in control with everything I did. So much of my career rode on my reputation for being confident under every circumstance. That lie inevitably bled into all aspects of my life. I could never fully open up to anyone because of that. If word got out that I took on a job I couldn't handle... That was it. All that trust was gone.
I’d never get another call again.
“Aright. Let's break this down. We can figure this out.” Frost cleaned his hands off, rubbed them together and blew on them. “How're you training her?”
“You know how I train people. I trained you.”
“Oh.” Frost scoffed, hanging his head for a moment before looking back up at me with a shit-eating grin. “So like an asshole drill sergeant then? No wonder she can’t keep up.”
I let my narrowing eyes speak for me.
“Training with you was a fucking nightmare and that was when we were kids, before you left. You're always so goddamn intense, Dante. Even back then. We mere mortals can't be pushed as hard as you push yourself, man.” He wore an easy smile. “How bout—crazy idea—you try backing off.”
“C'mon. You know I don't have the time for kid gloves.” Talking with my brother could be so exhausting sometimes. I rubbed my suddenly aching eyes. “We've barely covered the basics, let alone falls and weapons training. We haven't even started most of her fight choreo. If anything, I need to push harder.”
“Hold up.” Frost raised a hand for emphasis. “In what universe do you actually see that working?”
Peaking over my hands, I looked at him, but remained silent.
“I'm serious, man. Your way isn't working, so you're going to do what? The same thing, but more of it?” Frost chuckled easily, then stood up and stretched. “How does that make any sense?”
“Fine.” I exhaled all the air I had in one long burst and humored him. “What would you do?”
“Take a day off.” He opened his hands as if presenting a cornucopia of wisdom. “Do something entertaining. Maybe go see a movie. Not one of ours though, something animated and fun.”
“Dammit, Frost.” I glared at him. My little brother was chronically—frustratingly—lax about everything. “This is serious. Stop fucking around.”
“I'm not!” Frost laughed, falling carelessly back into his sofa. “Listen. There's no way to teach her if you don't know anything about her. You can't open a Starbucks without knowing which pretentious-ass coffee to sell and to do that you need to know your customers. You said she doesn't have a passion for this, right? So find out what she is passionate about.”
“I'm not her high school psychologist, Frost. I'm her trainer and her coordinator. I don't want to know her. I just want her to know the material.” I was already thinking about Autumn too much as it was. Ever since saving her on set and the night on the boat I couldn't get her out of my head. I even gave her my parent's bedroom; something I would never do for anyone.
If anything I needed to distance myself from her more.
Never get involved with the people you work with. It's just too dangerous. It makes you sloppy. What happened to Dad was always fresh in my mind.
“Hey.” Frost tossed his hands up in a defeated gesture then scratched his head. “If you're not going to hear me out then why did you even bother coming?”
I sighed, closing my eyes. Was I too close to this, to her, to think straight?
“Alright. I'm listening.” I glanced over at him, a begrudging smirk marring my face. “You are such an incredible pain in the ass.”
“We all have our talents.” Frost rolled his hand forward and bowed his head. Then, to my surprise, he took on a more serious tone. “I don’t understand why you feel the need to keep everyone at arm's length. But I’m telling you that's not going to w
ork this time. Not with her. You said it yourself. She's not like us, so don't treat her that way. If she's not invested in you, then she won’t be invested in what you're trying to teach her. You have to take the time and actually figure this girl out.”
“You’re serious?” It was more of a realization than a question.
“You're in an impossible situation, Dante.” Frost shook his head slowly. “Maybe you need an impossible solution?”
“So what your telling me—” I carefully considered what he was saying, recapping it all in my mind. “Is to stop training my client and take her out on a date.”
“Yup.”
Chapter 15
Autumn
“Hello?” I called out; stumbling in a clumsy rush down the stairs in what I hoped was at least most of my exercise gear. I was still groggy and disoriented from my alarm not going off. Eight AM! I was mortified. How the hell had I slept in for so long? The thought of Dante waiting, cross-armed and glowering at my lateness quickened my steps. I could only imagine the kind of horrific workout I'd have to do to make up for lost time!
Blasting through the kitchen, I was already apologizing when I opened the patio door. “I don't know how that happened. I always set the—”
Empty.
I looked around to be sure, but Dante was nowhere to be found.
“Huh.” I went back inside. The undisturbed room was sleepier than as I was. Dust motes in the air did agitated spirals in the yellow beams that cut across the kitchen from the yawning morning sun. By now I’d have just lost yet another round of The Game. I was so close to hitting him last night that the frustration of it even made it into my dream.
Quietness had become unnerving to me. It made me feel late for something. Nearly two weeks of structured, rigid routine made the Pavlovian dog in me uneasy at the change. I crept across the floor, scanning the rest of the room like I was Indiana Jones warily sniffing out traps in some forgotten crypt.
The only sign that anything had changed since last night was a folded card on the bar.