Disaster Productions

by Brian Bakos

  I am at my threshold of irritation. I want to stop and have it out with Duals, tell him that his “assistant” slip of the tongue is not appropriate, that he’d better remember I’m the driving force behind this effort. Matt the Man.

  But who am I kidding? Anyone looking at us could see who the real guy in charge is – at least for now. And people are looking at us. Somebody holds the door open for Duals. I scoot up behind him before I get shut out.

  10: Into the Fray

  The girls are already there, holding a table for us in the concession area. I finally get to ditch that lousy pole.

  Tamika looks even better than I remembered. Her outfit is so tight that I wonder if she’ll have room to skate in. She says “Hi” to me again. Now I’ve had three words from her!

  My ‘date’ is supposed to be Romina, but she doesn’t know I exist much more than Tamika does. She’s far more interested in talking with Tamika than with me. The two of them keep up a constant stream of chatter that I can’t hope to break into.

  Listening in, I learn that Romina came from Stuttgart, Germany. Her father is a manager at a German company and is working in the American branch for a while. Her presence in Tamika’s clique adds just the right amount of international flair, I figure. If she were French, it would be a cliché.

  I want to say something clever that will get her attention – but what?

  “So, Romina, any Nazis in your family tree?” I could try for starters. “My great grandpa served with the American troops that kicked their butts, you know. Yeah, and he brought back this cool bayonet.”

  Probably best to keep my mouth shut. Romina is speaking in her wonderful accent again:

  “When do your modeling classes begin, Tamika?” she says.

  “September,” Tamika replies. “I’m so hoping that I can handle them, and my dancing lessons, and my social life – and keep my grades up, too.”

  She pauses to sip her drink, a Bomb Cola. We have something in common!

  “I’m not totally into modeling right now,” Tamika continues, “although it would be nice to do some magazine spreads.”

  She takes another sip. The world waits for her next comment.

  “I’m thinking, like, the classes will give me some poise,” she says. “You know, confidence for when I’m trying out for movie roles. Acting is my first love.”

  And so on. An outpouring of starry-eyed hopes.

  There are the high school plays, and of course she’ll get leading roles in them. There is this film school in the northern suburbs, and she’ll get parts in the student productions. Her dad’s company has a branch in L.A., and please, please, he should ask for a transfer so she’ll be close to Hollywood. She wants to take acting lessons, but where to find the time?

  Then the conversation turns to Studio Duals.

  “If this video goes viral, like we’re hoping, it could open all kinds of doors for me,” Tamika says.

  I feel kind of sorry for her. I mean, if she’s counting on Duals and me to launch her movie career, she’s barking up the wrong tree – or the wrong microphone pole. And if she’s half as well-off and well-connected as she’s letting on, why is she going to public school? By rights, she should be attending some private academy with the authentic phonies.

  During this time, Kaitlyn is busy with Duals. She seems to have quite an interest in the workings of Merlin and the camera. And maybe an interest in Duals, too. That jerk!

  Me, jealous – why would anybody think that?

  Duals hands me the camera. The extra monitor has been replaced with an LED light, a buggy little thing like a square insect eye.

  “Watch this a few minutes, okay?” Duals says.

  Yeah, sure. As if I’d let somebody take Grandpa’s stuff.

  Duals and Kaitlyn stroll off toward the skate rental counter, all relaxed and joking. Before the crowd blocks my view, I see her give Duals a playful little shove. I want to vomit.

  My foul mood is getting on my nerves. Lighten up, Matt, I tell myself.

  By this time, guys are stopping by our table to check out the new girls. Gerry and Bill show up, but quickly get the cold shoulder. They turn their attention to the camera.

  “Wow, that’s quite a rig, Matt,” Gerry says.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  I want to fire off some technical details, but can’t think of any. This camera is as mysterious to me as to anyone else.

  Then Duals comes back, lugging a pair of quad skates – Kaitlyn by his side. Tamika and Romina interrupt their conversation long enough to look up at them.

  “I prefer in-lines,” Duals says, “but I need some extra stability to handle the camera.”

  There’s my excuse! I need extra stability to handle the sound equipment, don’t I? No need to feel uncool wearing clunker skates. Not that anybody seems to care. I head for the rental counter.

  When I get back, Duals has the Steadicam in hand and has positioned Gerry and Bill next to the wall. The wall had stars all over it, like the carpet. I set my skates down under the table.

  “Ah, we’ve got our sound technician!” Duals says.

  So, here is my opportunity to shine, or at least bask a little in Duals’ reflected glory. I hook the recorder unit onto my belt, put the headphones on, and pick up the microphone boom pole. Hopefully, Duals will show me what to do next.

  And he does.

  Unfortunately, I’m holding the microphone upright, pointed toward a loudspeaker that is just starting to belch out music. So, when Duals switches on the power, an ear-splitting blast comes through the headphones.

  “Ahhh!”

  I tear the headphones off.

  “Sorry, Matt,” Duals says, “we’ll have to tone it down a little.”

  My ears are ringing, but I can still hear the laughter all around me. We’ve drawn a crowd by now.

  Duals moves us to another spot, away from the loudspeaker, and turns on my power again. The noise level is bearable now.

  “Okay?” Duals asks.

  I nod.

  “Say ‘sound rolling,’” Duals says.

  “Sound rolling,” I say.

  Duals grasps the boom pole and lowers the mike to just above the heads of Gerry and Bill. Then he flicks on the camera; some light comes from the LED unit and joins with the glare from the overheads.

  “Speed,” Duals says.

  Kaitlyn steps in front of the camera holding a clapper board thing with the top part opened. Bill & Gerry is written on it in erasable marker.

  “Bill & Gerry interview, take one, marker!” Kaitlyn announces.

  She smacks the thing closed and moves out of the way.

  “Action!” Kaitlyn says.

  “So, how did the school year go for you guys?” Duals asks.

  “Pretty good,” Gerry says, “I just hope I didn’t bomb the History final!”

  “Are you looking forward to high school in the fall?” Duals asks.

  “Sure,” Bill says, “it’s a little scary, though.”

  And so on. After a brief interview with Gerry and Bill we move on to another guy, then to a couple of girls, etc. Everyone seems eager for a bit of camera time.

  The procedure is always the same. First, Duals has them sign an official Studio Duals release giving us ‘footage rights’ to the interview. He collects contact information so he can send them the video file. He makes vague comments that some of the stuff might be appearing on the local TV news.

  Kaitlyn is sort of the director while Duals asks the questions and handles the camera. I get to flick the recorder on / off and hold the boom pole.

  “Why are we doing this?” I ask Duals between takes.

  “It’s good practice,” Duals says, “and it expands our fan base – people we can notify when our stuff goes online.”

  That makes sense, I suppose. I’m not much of a social media type person myself, so I figure it’s best to let Duals handle things.

  “We should go to the North Middle School skating party tom
orrow night, too,” Duals says. “Tamika can get us in.”

  “Well ...”

  I roll my shoulders. I’m getting tired holding the boom pole and am not keen on another night of hauling it around.

  “The more people on our contact list, the better,” Duals says. “We’ll meet them all in high school next year, anyway. Why not get the jump?”

  Yeah, high school. Come September, we’ll no longer be big shot eighth graders, but twerp freshmen. A whole new world awaits. Maybe we should get the jump on it.

  “Okay,” I say, “but I thought this was supposed to be about Dylan. Where is he?”

  “Being on time isn’t his gig,” Duals says. “He’ll show – I think.”

  And he does. We’ve just started another interview when I feel painful pressure on my toes. Dylan has crowded in between me and Duals and is standing on my foot. I pull it away.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” Dylan says, patting Duals on the shoulder.

  Duals looks startled, the camera flinches in his hands.

  “Cut!” he says.

  I switch off the recorder unit.

  “We’ll get back to you in a minute,” Duals tells the two guys we’d been interviewing.

  “Hi, Dylan,” I say.

  “Hey, Matt,” Dylan says. “You look good in those headphones.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So, Duals, you mentioned that those girls would be here?” Dylan says.

  As if on cue, Tamika and Romina walk up.

  “Hi Dylan,” Tamika says, “remember us?”

  “Yeah, hi!” Dylan says.

  He melts under Tamika’s gaze, as any sensible guy would. She and Romina lead him off to our table. Duals and I begin take two of the interview.

  11: The Mighty Dylan

  I’m sort of in tree mode doing the sound, just standing there with the boom pole. It gives me time to look back toward Dylan and the girls.

  You’d have to admit that Dylan isn’t bad looking, a lot of girls would even consider him to be “cute.” No, he doesn’t necessarily look like a klutz, he just acts like one. I flex my toes which still ache from when he stepped on them.

  But check out that crappy hair style! It’s too long for him, and it looks dated. He’s always combing it back, like some hoodlum from one of those old movies. But maybe this is part of his charm. He’s so lame that he might actually be cool – a sort of anti-coolness that people could like.

  Tamika seems to like him, or is she just putting on an act? Acting is her first love, you know.

  I feel a stab of guilt. Dylan has never done anything to harm me – not on purpose, anyway – and now we’re planning to make a fool out of him. We’ve hooked him up with a hot girl and are just waiting for him to blow the situation so we can record it. Maybe he’ll brain himself falling in the rink. That would be perfect.

  How did all this happen? Sure, it was my Big Idea, but I’ve had plenty before and nothing ever came of them.

  It’s Duals’ fault. He’s the one that got this whole cruel thing off the ground; I’m just an innocent bystander. And Grandpa didn’t have to bankroll the effort, either. Why did he put me in this position?

  But this logic has a hollow ring to it. Blaming other people for your own choices seems like a losing strategy. Isn’t that what Hitler always did? But I can’t think about it more just now. The interview is over and we’re relocating to the area near the rink.

  The traffic is heavy out here, kids whizzing by on skates, entering and exiting the rink.

  “I can’t handle this equipment out here,” I say.

  “Right,” Duals says. “Go give it to the manager, he’ll lock it the office.”

  I return to the concession area. Dylan and the girls have their skates on and are ready to head on out. The manager has already taken the orange camera box. I give him the sound equipment and lace on my own skates.

  When I get back, Duals is standing outside the rink filming kids as they skate past. There is less light out here, so he’s flicking on the LED array brighter. Kaitlyn stands nearby, admiring his performance.

  “I’m glad to get rid of that stuff,” I say. “One thing I’ve learned – nobody loves the sound guy.”

  Duals laughs. “Any problem with the manager?”

  “He’s fine.”

  “We’re the official videographers tonight,” Duals says. “I promised to make the place look good.”

  Duals sure thinks of everything. You have to admire him for that, even if it does seem a bit overbearing.

  “If anything of interest happens, I hope it’s along this side,” Duals says. “The manager said I couldn’t go out on the floor with the camera.”

  I scope out the rink. A four-foot barrier runs around the whole thing, but you can only access the floor from two sides. The other two sides are wedged into the corner of the building. Our long side has two entries – one beside us and the other farther down.

  Our area is open, but a counter runs alongside the barrier by the other entrance. Kids are sitting there on high stools socializing. Some adult observers are staked out there, as well.

  “Do you need me for anything, Stephan?” Kaitlyn asks.

  “Not right now,” Duals says, “go ahead and skate.”

  “I’ll check back in a little while,” Kaitlyn says.

  She takes off. A bit later Dylan and Tamika skate past. If anything, he is even worse on skates than I am, but he still manages to run his comb through his long hair. Duals flicks on the LED and pans the camera to follow them, but nothing happens this time around. He looks rather disappointed.

  Romina zips past next, waving to the camera.

  “Why don’t you get out there, Matt?” Duals says. “Keep an eye on Dylan.”

  “Sure ...”

  I move reluctantly through the gate and out onto the floor.

  Why am I doing this, anyway – because Duals told me to? How have I let him take total command like this? Events are always moving so fast that I don’t have time to think, and Duals just sort of maneuvers me around any way he wants.

  But I also have this vague hope that I might be able to skate with Romina for a while. Maybe out on the floor she’ll be more sociable, especially since Tamika is busy with Dylan now. So I keep plunging forward.

  The traffic alongside the barrier isn’t too fast. Girls skating in groups, couples holding hands – including one that put on a kissy show for the camera. I can keep up without too much difficulty.

  Along the inside track, jocks are skating fast on their in-lines, breezing past us lesser types. Ice hockey players showing off their wheeled skills and some guys from the football team trying to look impressive. After the disastrous football season we had, they must feel the need to look impressive at something.

  I maneuver up behind Dylan and Tamika. Romina is no longer with them, though. I spy her across the rink skating with some girls. Maybe she saw me coming and made a quick getaway. I’m feeling pretty lousy about that, but then some brightness enters my life.

  “Hi, Matt!”

  It’s Lauren, coming up beside me again like she did last night. Only this time I don’t go into my collapse routine.

  “Hi, Lauren. I didn’t see you before.”

  “Yeah, I just got here.”

  We skate past Duals. He’s moved from his earlier spot and is now positioned along the barrier by the counters. Some kids have grouped around him like he’s some sort of celebrity. We both wave to the camera.

  “Want to do an interview later?” I say.

  “Sure,” Lauren says.

  Just then, one of the football players comes barreling up alongside Lauren. He does not seem in adequate control. He clips her elbow.

  “Ow!” Lauren cries.

  The jock looks back toward her. “Sorry!”

  He should have kept his eyes forward because he nearly crashes into someone else. Yup, not hard to figure out the reasons behind our winless football season.

  “Skate on the
other side, Lauren,” I say.

  Lauren switches places with me. Now I’m the one exposed to any danger coming from the racers. I feel macho and protective, like some hero in an action movie. I quite forget about Romina, and I try not to notice the spectacular figure of Tamika skating right in front of me. A couple of laps go by.

  But how can I tune out Tamika? She’s like a shining beacon under the dim lights, her body moving in subtle time with the rock music blaring over the loudspeakers. How does a guy like Dylan get to bask in her glory? I try not to stare at her, without much success.

  Lauren is here, right next to me. She’s nice, she’s cute. And she won’t like me drooling after Tamika.

  Don’t blow this situation, Matt!

  Then it happens. Dylan is jerking around with that stupid comb of his again when it slips from his fingers. It lands right in front of me – not even a good skater could avoid it. My left front wheels jam into the comb, and I spin around into the racing lane.

  “Look out!” someone yells.

  I feel a tremendous impact. Then I’m hurtling toward the barrier at supersonic speed. Through my horror, I feel a bright light come on. Are the gates of heaven opening for me? Then I’m crashing over the barrier, panicked kids are jumping out of the way. The carpet stars rush toward me ...

  I’m lying on the carpet, battered and dazed. People are standing all around; I’m sprawled amid a forest of human legs. Then Tamika is at my side.

  “You poor thing!” she says.

  She strokes my hair and kisses my cheek. Maybe I really have died and gone to heaven!

  Then people are helping me up, and the light is normal again. Out in the rink is a tremendous pile up. Guys in red ‘Staff’ shirts are trying to straighten things out. Duals is trying to film the chaos, but the manager waves him off.

  “Thanks for helping me,” I say.

  I glance around for Tamika, but she’s gone. Then I notice Lauren’s face in the crowd. She doesn’t look too pleased.

  “Are you all right, Matthew?” she says.

  “Yeah.” I run my hand over some new bumps on the back of my head. “I think so.”

  Lauren nods. Then she takes off.

  Two: Taking Stock

  12: Recuperation

  That was the end of my filmmaking debut.

  Somewhere during my nosedive I picked up a pretty good shiner, which doesn’t do much for my appearance. Every bone in my body aches, especially in back where the jocks slammed into me. My face is raw from burning along the carpet. Nothing seems broken, fortunately.