On Location

by Sarah Echavarre Smith

  I swallow the lump in my throat along with the memory that Drew’s frantic explanation brings up.

  He opens his mouth like he’s going to say more but quickly clamps it shut.

  “Lia was my nickname as a kid,” I finally say after a long moment of silence. “I gave it to you because we barely knew each other, and I wanted to be safe.”

  Drew blinks, worry glistening in his eyes. “I get it. Drew’s not my full name either. Obviously.” The chuckle he lets out lands like a rock on cement.

  “Brooke called you Andrew.”

  “There was one shoot where there were two Drews on the crew. I told her to call me Andrew just to make it easier. It kind of stuck.”

  “Oh. Cool.”

  We stare awkwardly at each other for a few seconds.

  “So . . . is that all you wanted to say?” I ask, determined to end this cringey-as-hell reunion.

  Drew’s brow lifts the slightest bit. “I guess. I mean, I just wanted you to know what happened.”

  The urge to shrink into myself takes hold, but I stand up straight, fighting it. It’s probably best that it didn’t work out. Dating a coworker can be all kinds of trouble.

  You know better than to do that again.

  “Apology accepted,” I say. “We can just pretend like it never happened.”

  His eyes widen the slightest bit before he swallows. “Okay, yeah. Sounds good to me.”

  I turn to walk out the door, brushing past him, but then he says, “Wait.”

  I still as I register the skin-to-skin sensation of my arm touching his arm. The memory of the night we met jolts to the front of my mind. I remember it all perfectly. The hard feel of Drew’s body under my hands. The way he traced his finger along my palm. How yummy his bottom lip tasted.

  I look up at his face and try not to focus on how sharp his jawline is even under that sheet of stubble.

  “What should I call you? Alia? Lia? Dunn?”

  “Whatever you feel like.”

  “How about Dunn? Fresh start, new name. And I promise I won’t stand you up this time.”

  He laughs like he’s joking with a friend. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and purse my lips instead. I guess Drew is the kind of guy who likes to move on from cringey moments with annoying humor.

  When I don’t laugh in response, he swallows and clears his throat. “I was, uh, joking.”

  “I know.”

  He tugs a hand through his hair once more and sighs. “So I, uh, guess I’ll see you bright and early, Dunn.”

  I walk past him and out the door. “Sounds good, Irons.”

  5

  Holy shit.” Haley stares at me from the passenger seat.

  When I turn to look at her for a moment, her eyes are wide. “Drew’s the guy who stood you up? And the guy in your photo that went viral?”

  I glare at the darkened road ahead. It’s the middle of the night, and we need to make it to Arches National Park before sunrise. “Yup. Except he says he didn’t mean to stand me up.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her shaking her head. “Oh, please. That story he concocted is more scripted than an episode of The Bachelorette. Why didn’t you tell me last night after the meeting?”

  “It was a mind-fuck seeing him. I needed time to process everything. Like, out of all the people in the world—out of all the people in New York City—he ends up being my coworker for the next six weeks.”

  I take the turn off the highway into the park entrance, pass the visitors’ center, then head on in. Behind me are Wyatt, Joe, and Rylan in a van with all the camera equipment, then Drew in his truck at the very end. Thanks to all the planning we did, we managed to gain exclusive access to the park in the middle of the night, allowing us to set up for our sunrise shoot at Delicate Arch.

  “I just . . . God, what are the odds?” Haley mutters to herself.

  “My exact thoughts.”

  I drive along the curving road that cuts through the park and glance out the window. It’s too dark to see the fiery-red rock dotted with purple sage, blackbrush, and pinyon-juniper woodlands that make up this park, but in a few hours sunlight will illuminate every gorgeous inch of Arches. I smile to myself remembering how Apong Lita drove my brother and me along this same road, and how giddy we were gazing out the window at the scenery, which looked like it belonged on Mars rather than Earth.

  Haley removes her glasses and mutters a curse about how smudgy they are. I lift the center console to reveal a travel-size bottle of glasses cleaner and a microfiber cloth.

  “You’re a lifesaver,” she says.

  “I wouldn’t dream of going on a shoot with you without plenty of glasses cleaner and microfiber cloths. Or gluten-free snacks, which there are loads of in the cooler in the back whenever you get hungry.”

  “This is why I love you,” she says while wiping her lenses. “I’ve got your back. If Drew does anything to fall out of line, I’ll set him straight.”

  Haley’s fierce defense of me makes me smile. “I appreciate that. But hopefully that won’t be necessary. I’m going to behave like a professional, and he said he will too.”

  “But if he doesn’t . . .” Haley makes a squelching noise while swiping her hand across her neck. I let out a laugh.

  Minutes later we’re at the parking lot at the Delicate Arch trailhead. Everyone hops out of their vehicles and starts unloading equipment.

  When I see that there are no other cars around—meaning Blaine hasn’t yet showed up—there’s a slow drop in my stomach. If he doesn’t turn up, the sunrise shot is toast.

  Half an hour later, we’re all almost ready.

  Wyatt gazes around. “So is this Blaine guy ever going to show up?”

  His question sends panic to the pit of my stomach.

  “I hope so,” I mutter, then turn to gather the rest of the equipment before we kick off our hike.

  I called Blaine’s handler last night before bed to remind him of the early call time and to make sure he’d make it on time. The jittery personal assistant assured me that he would without a doubt be there from whatever mystery glamping grounds he’s staying at.

  I silently curse Blaine. Sunrise is less than three hours away. If I want to capture the sun rising along the horizon, slowly bathing the Delicate Arch in sunlight—the shot I’ve been planning this entire first part of filming around—we need to start hiking soon.

  In the darkness, my eyes adjust. Everyone is milling around, equipment strapped to them. Rylan and Haley look at me with concern in their eyes.

  “Everyone ready?” I announce.

  Drew’s voice cuts in from my right just a few feet away. “Shouldn’t we wait for Blaine?”

  I button up the front of my jacket as he walks up to me. It’s a Herculean task to keep my eyes from bulging out of my head. Because Drew looks good enough to devour. His tall, lean-muscled frame is adorned with a puffy gray jacket, worn jeans, hiking boots, and a gray knit beanie. He looks like a male model showcasing outdoorwear for a clothing catalog.

  Thankfully it’s still dark enough to conceal the flush that’s currently taking over my entire body.

  It takes a long second, but I get ahold of myself and answer Drew’s question.

  “Blaine was informed of the call time well in advance,” I say, fiddling with the strap of the bag that I’ve slung over my shoulder. “He can catch up when he gets here.”

  “He’s kind of an integral part of this shot, don’t you think?”

  Drew’s tone borders on sarcastic. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from going off. I’ve already endured a sleepless night stressing about the first day of shooting. I don’t need to be undermined in front of my crew by its newest member.

  “I’d rather have a sunrise shot without the host than no sunrise shot at all. I’m not missing that to wait for him. We have mul
tiple shots to get today that don’t involve him. We’ll film his segments whenever he decides to come, and Frankenstein it all together later on in editing.”

  I try to keep my tone as free of bitterness as possible, but judging by the hard look on Drew’s face and the wide-eyed look Haley shoots me, I didn’t do a very convincing job.

  When I walk over to lock the car, Drew glances at his phone to check the time. “Maybe I should wait here for him while you all go on up. Then the two of us can meet up with you.”

  I clench my jaw, annoyed that Drew is going against the plan for today. “I hired you as the field coordinator for this shoot. You’re here to assist me on this series. Is that correct?”

  Drew opens his mouth, then sighs. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

  “I didn’t hire you to be a babysitter who hangs out in the parking lot when I need you for the full day of shooting. Blaine is an adult. He knows how to read, and I’m sure he’ll be able to read the trail signs to find his way here when he finally gets around to arriving. Understood?”

  There’s a pause when Drew stands in silence, staring at me. “Understood.”

  I turn on my heel and make my way up the trail.

  “Damn,” Haley says under her breath from behind me. “What a way to set the tone.”

  I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “I’ve already got one impossible crew member to tangle with on this shoot. I don’t need two.”

  * * *

  • • •

  We reach the Delicate Arch, the most popular arch and trail in the entire park, with an hour to go until sunrise. I wipe the sweat off my brow with my jacket sleeve and take in the massive, fifty-foot-plus sandstone arch that looks more like a shadow than a rock formation in the predawn darkness. Even though some guides rate this trail as moderate, hiking the mostly uphill path with packs of camera equipment slingshots it into the strenuous category, especially during the middle third of the hike, which is a steep section of slickrock. I stomp my feet onto the smooth rock below, thankful that I sprung for the hiking boots with excellent traction and ankle support. I would have wobbled and tripped without them.

  Catching my breath, I gaze around as the jagged horizon to the east begins to glow periwinkle. Sunrise will soon turn the sky cotton-candy orange and yellow, then blue. I inhale, relishing the earthy scent. Almost like the soil is wet, even though it hasn’t rained. It’s a smell I remember well from the first time I visited this park as a kid.

  When we visited Arches with Apong Lita, we didn’t have time to hike to Delicate Arch. Despite the stress from arguing with Drew and an MIA host, this moment in this natural wonder is pure tranquility and nostalgia. Apong Lita would have loved it.

  Joe and Wyatt quickly set up their cameras while Rylan helps them. Haley drops her bags on the ground and goes through the shot list for today. Wyatt mentions something about a busted boom mic and a missing tripod and battery pack, which threatens to annihilate my momentary calm. Is this first day of shooting cursed?

  Joe says fixing wonky boom mics is his secret specialty, and a smidge of my anxiety eases. I walk off and take a deep breath while scoping out various spots and angles near the arch, when Drew comes up to me.

  “Hey. Can we talk?” He stands with his hands in his gray puffer jacket.

  “Please make it quick; we’ve got a lot to do.”

  “I didn’t mean to come off like I was questioning your authority back there.”

  I cross my arms and look up at him, my lips pursed as I say nothing.

  His expression turns sheepish. “But I guess that’s exactly how it came off. Sorry.”

  He trails off. I raise my brow at him. “Is that all you wanted to say?”

  He nods.

  “Great. Now can you please help Haley work out the shot list?”

  His jaw set tight, he nods and walks over to her. Minutes later, Wyatt and Joe are set up and ready to go. Sunrise starts as a sliver of luminescent orange along the rocky terrain. The glow intensifies as the sun eases slowly into the sky.

  “Damn,” Wyatt mutters from behind the camera.

  I look up to where Joe is set up, which is high atop the rock formation that sits about fifty feet from the arch. He’s getting panoramic shots of the sunrise and the entire area. Since Blaine no-showed, my new idea is to use the sunrise footage in a sped-up time lapse for the episode intro.

  For the next couple of hours, Joe and Wyatt record multiple shots.

  “This is just incredible,” Wyatt says for the millionth time, his brown eyes wide and disbelieving.

  Joe chuckles while pausing to chug from his water bottle in the middle of a short break. “Told you, man. Sleep is trivial when it comes to natural beauty like this. You should come out with me one of these days for a predawn jog.”

  Wyatt rolls his eyes, which makes Joe laugh.

  “No way in hell, man,” Wyatt says. “You’re the only person who didn’t break a sweat climbing up this trail and you had the heaviest pack. You think I can keep up with you on a run?”

  While Joe and Wyatt engage in a friendly argument about fitness, Haley saunters up to me, hesitation written all over her otherwise youthful face. “You think this guy Blaine is gonna no-show the whole day?”

  I sigh, scrunching my face as I glance back at today’s shooting schedule. We’ve already had to scrap him in the sunrise shot. We have a handful of other spots in the park to film, and we’ll need to leave in the next ninety minutes to stay on schedule. If he’s not going to show up at all, I’m not sure how in the world we’re going to salvage today’s shoot.

  Pursing my lips, I take another breath as I try to calm the doubts whirring inside me. “I guess we’ll just have to—”

  Loud profanity steals my attention. We turn our heads behind us and spot a guy in tight black biker shorts, tall hiking boots, and a blue parka trotting toward us.

  Blaine Stephens in the flesh.

  “Pardon my français, but holy shit is that a pretty sight.” He gawks at the Delicate Arch while snapping photos with his phone.

  Relief and annoyance collide in the form of my chest tightening. I’m glad he’s finally here, but what the hell is he doing taking photos like an awestruck tourist when he should be apologizing for his inexcusably late entrance and jumping right into work?

  Biting my tongue, I take a moment to glance over at the Delicate Arch, hoping its majestic beauty will calm me. It doesn’t. I remind myself just how much sentiment and memory this spot holds. That doesn’t help either.

  I muster a breath and plaster on a smile, hoping I look and sound professional. As much as I already can’t stand Blaine, I need him in a cooperative mood.

  I walk over to him and stick out my hand. “Blaine. I’m Alia, the showrunner of this series. We’re so glad to have you on board.”

  He shakes my hand while flashing a smirk that makes my skin crawl. He’s lithe and only a couple of inches taller than my five-foot-nine frame—not physically threatening at all. But the creepy way his smirk lingers unsettles me. I quickly pull my hand out of his and introduce him to the crew, who all wave from their posts.

  “Can you please go stand over there so we can film the first few scenes?” I point to the Delicate Arch.

  He frowns at me like he has no idea what I’m talking about.

  I fight with every muscle in my face to keep smiling. “All you have to do is say your lines a few times, we’ll film it, and then we can move on to the next scene.”

  His overly tanned face scrunches in what I assume is confusion. His eyes dart between me and the arch.

  “What lines?”

  “The lines from the script the network sent your agent weeks ago. Didn’t you read it?”

  His expression turns irritated and he waves a hand. “Psssh. I don’t bother with scripts. Too formal.”

  “What?” It comes out like a shar
p scolding, even though I don’t mean it to.

  Blaine frowns. “What’s with your face? You mad about something?”

  My chest expands as I summon yet another deep breath to deal with him. Yes, I know I should probably be kissing this guy’s ass—he seems like the type who enjoys being fawned over—but I don’t have it in me. Not when his laziness is the reason why we’ve blown today’s key shot.

  I start to talk, but Drew cuts in. “Blaine Stephens? Oh man, I’m such a huge fan!”

  All semblance of irritation disappears from Blaine’s face the moment Drew grins and shakes his hand.

  “I know these shots can be kind of overwhelming,” Drew says, his voice at a weirdly cheery register. I wrinkle my nose at how superficial it sounds. “Why don’t I just demonstrate for you?”

  Blaine runs a hand through his shaggy dyed-blond hair. “Bro, you read my mind.” He glances at me. “Why didn’t you offer to do that?”

  My jaw drops at Blaine’s comment. And then I gawk in disbelief as Drew jogs over to the mark right under the Delicate Arch, then recites Blaine’s lines perfectly from memory. The way he walks and gestures leaves me in awe. If I didn’t know he was a behind-the-scenes guy, I would have thought he was born to host. He holds natural eye contact with the camera and transitions smoothly whenever he looks away to the horizon and to point out the massive Delicate Arch that stretches to more than fifty feet in the air.

  When he finishes, I’m speechless. Brooke was right. He really is a jack-of-all-trades.

  Drew then points at Blaine and says, “You’re up, superstar.”

  Blaine saunters over and mimics what Drew did. He messes up a few of the words, but overall it’s a solid run.

  I walk over to where Wyatt is filming everything on his camera. Then I swallow my pride, take a cue from Drew, and showcase a bit of false charm. “Blaine, that was fantastic. Can you run through it again?”

  Blaine runs through the scene twice more. When I yell cut, he yells, “I need water. Now.”

  From behind the camera, I roll my eyes.