by Susan Dunlap
There weren’t enough windows; they hadn’t been open. As I made my way across the room the smell of lunch meat and sweet rolls gave way to a hint of sneaked tobacco. On a table someone had sketched figures in grease pencil. Nearby, someone had used a glue gun. The smells were momentarily distinct and then interwoven like strands in a game of cat’s cradle.
I wished I could scan the overall storyboards for the movie to get a sense of the number and complexity of gags in Kite Flight. The Lombard gag was huge, but there were a number of smaller ones. If I worked things right, Kite Flight could keep me in work for weeks. But there was no way that info would be posted on the walls of our production room where any of us could go rogue and leak it before filming even finished.
Dainen Beretski’s limber form was angled over a desk as he peered at the call sheet with a woman holding a pad and a digital recorder, her cell phone poking out from the pocket of a fisherman’s vest. On the vest’s back was a hook, presumably to hang it from a peg. She had a ring of keys attached to it by a carabineer. I couldn’t see what she’d done to the keys to keep them from jangling. She had to be the scripty, obsessively keeping track of everything every actor, every setting, plus the weather does at every stopping point. She sighed. ‘We can’t trust the weather here. We have to start earlier or we’re going to have scenes blinking from fog to sun to wind blowing down everything in sight.’
‘Can’t put toe to ground before five, Margo. It’s in the permit. You got a problem, talk—’
‘Never mind. I’ve always got a problem. That’s what continuity is.’ Her voice was grumpy but her stance was live and let live, quite the achievement in a job where she could catch ninety-nine errors – actor wearing a different shirt from the last shot, different belt, different stud earring, no ring on a finger that had worn one before washing, a car parked inches closer to a hydrant, a flowering plant that had dropped half its buds overnight, a passing street car halfway through the intersection when shooting stopped but absent when it resumed – and all anyone would remember would be the one she missed.
‘Darcy!’ Beretski proclaimed. ‘Everyone, this is Darcy Lott, our savior!’
Savior is not a good role, longevity-wise. ‘Wow,’ I said, ‘all jobseekers should get that welcome.’ I near-matched his volume. I’ve played this in this kind of ballpark before.
Behind him, the scripty looked skeptical.
I prompted, ‘You said you needed stunt coordination help …’
‘Right. This is too big a project for me to be second unit director and stunt coordinator, too. I can’t be into the details of the set-up for each stage of the gag the way you need to, you know? I’ve got to be dealing with Margo,’ he nodded at the continuity woman, ‘and Barb with her press releases, and then, jeez, just liaising with our location manager, who’s liaising with the head of the neighborhood organization at this very moment and the city and MUNI and – you won’t believe this – the bike coalition that wants to send five hundred people down Lombard one night in the middle of our shoot. Can you guess how much trash there’ll be, even though they swear there won’t be as much as a tissue. Margo’s about to go nuts. It’s crazy … crazy!’
‘By which you mean normal? Maybe a teensy bit more?’
He started to protest, then didn’t. ‘Yeah. And a bit.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘I’ve seen your details,’ he said, mostly to himself. ‘No stunt coordinator gigs.’
‘True. I’ve assisted twice.’
‘Fabulous. OK. Yes. I need you to check over the plans. See if you spot anything Jess overlooked. You know, check the equipment, check the set-up. Do the trial run.’
The trial – the run where you can break your neck if everything’s not in the proper place and tied down tight.
‘Big job. How long would I have?’
‘We’re scheduled for five a.m.’
Tomorrow? ‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yeah.’
Tomorrow! ‘Not possible. I’m really sorry.’ More than he knew! ‘I’d love to work with you, to learn, to be part of this great gag series …’ I was laying it on, but from his expression, not too heavily. ‘But a stunt coordinator’s the last line of safety and there’s no way I could guarantee that between now and daybreak.’ Meaning, we had a potential liability issue.
‘You’ve got the whole night.’
‘Dainen, it’s night! You want me out with banks of lights shining in the neighbor’s windows?’ I didn’t mention sleep; I knew better than that.
‘Second that, Dainen!’ shouted a guy I took to be the location producer, the guy who’d be dealing with those 3:00 a.m. neighbors.
‘OK, OK, the day after tomorrow. But we’ve only got the street till Monday. We don’t have any slack.’
Safety isn’t slack! But tell that to the money guys. ‘Let me go over the storyboard, check where things are.’ Meaning: Let me see if this gargantuan amount of work is within the realm of the possible for six people, much less one.
Beretski put a hand on my arm and lowered his voice. ‘Look, these gags on Lombard, this sequence, is the heart of the movie. If it doesn’t go, the whole project’s dead. Every one of us will be out of work. Guillermo worked his ass off negotiating with the city to get the access we’ve got. There’s a reason no one else has done gags like these on Lombard. And Darcy, we will never, ever, under any circumstances, get access again. And—’
Beretski’s cell rang. He eyed it but didn’t answer. I gave him a point for that. His mouth moved like he was chewing over his options, tasting the truth, wanting to swallow it. He spit it out. ‘I thought I could handle it all – stunt coordinator and second unit director. I was fucking wrong.’
Behind him the continuity woman’s whole body sighed. It said: Finally! It said: We told him!
Without moving, I took in the room. No one had a phone at the ready. No papers or clothes rustled. The whole place looked like Pompeii. Their eyes were on Dainen, as if waiting for the next shoe to drop. And on me, the person who’d made the great Dainen Beretski admit he was wrong. If I did that and then walked out … bad, bad, bad for everyone.
That moment stretched like a pocket in time, and I saw the circle of my options. Nix the job and take the muttering that I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, brave enough. That nearing forty – 100 in stunt years! – I’d lost it. I was over the hill, sliding down the side where grass goes to die.
If I nixed, Dainen would get someone with less of a resume, who knew zip about this gag sequence – at least I’d eyeballed it this morning – who was maybe less careful, who would make things more dangerous for the stunt double …
… The stunt double who was me!
Dainen muttered, ‘Budget.’
I knew what he meant – he’d been hired because he’d assured them he could do both jobs. They’d save money. Now he couldn’t admit he was over his head.
If I nixed, I wouldn’t be part of the production team, the stunt team, the movie, the whole thing that I loved. I’d have to move to Toronto or wherever, and leave Leo exposed. I’d …
I should have considered it logically, dispassionately, sensibly, but I said, ‘We’ll make it work.’
THIRTEEN
I hung around the production office, checking the equipment, going over the storyboard for the whole sequence of gags down Lombard. I focused on the first of the three gags, eyed the stills of the site, checked in with the unit manager, gave him my agent’s contact number and looked over the list of equipment he’d bought or rented, scanning down quickly for items like hard foam and duct tape, things I might not expect to need but would in a hurry if I did. Neither of the location assistants was still here; I texted the senior of the two to ask for quirks or problems at the location. If they’d been here – if I had time – I’d have checked with the prop master, the prop maker, the key scenic artist and the lighting crew. When I walked out of the war room it was nearly eleven.
The streets had turned gray.
Fog, which had been just a suspicion hours earlier, clung damp to my arms. I yearned for wipers to clear my eyes the way the ones of John’s car had handled the windshield when they were new. My T-shirt was about four layers inadequate. I ran to the car, raced the engine and hoped for heat. In the shivering interim I texted Renzo.
Of course he was up. The man never slept.
And of course he’d ring the bell for the morning sitting. He’d assured me the last time I’d needed him to cover for me at the zendo while I raced to a location set that he was investing good luck in me, hoping – no, expecting, he’d insisted – that I would rise to be second unit director of the next movie here and set the action outside his cafe.
‘With a cameo for you?’ I’d asked.
‘Sexy Italian? Gotta boost the box office.’ He’d winked, sexily.
I parked by the zendo. Pacific Avenue was empty, the streetlights puff balls against the blanket of gray. Even in running shoes my footsteps drummed on the sidewalk and when I walked into our courtyard I could see a dark shape shift in the protected corner. Someone in a sleeping bag, I hoped. That or the biggest rat in the city’s history. Amazing that John hadn’t swept him out, man or rodent. It made me uneasy as I unlocked the double doors and slipped inside.
Upstairs, Leo was sleeping, breathing easily. All to the good. John, however, was not. He was standing in the doorway of my room, the floor littered with white cardboard and paper bags. It smelled like a trattoria.
‘Anything left?’ I whispered, stepping inside and pushing the door shut. The room has just enough space for a futon, dresser, closet, a pile of books. Two occupants is one too many.
‘Hardly,’ John hissed back. ‘I’ve worked shifts shorter than this. Been here so long my phone’s gone dead. Your note said you’d be back hours ago—’
It hadn’t. But no point getting into that. Still, I took a bit off the balance of the debt I owed him for this. ‘Thanks.’
But John had plenty of complaining left in his tank. ‘There’s no food in this place. How do the two of you survive? Would it kill you to … Take-out menus at the very minimum!’
It’s hard to project outrage when whispering. I restrained the urge to grin.
‘Or a bottle of Powers.’
Oh. ‘Yeah, a nip of the Irish would have helped you. Sorry. Truly. How’s Leo?’
‘Fine. Got himself up a couple times. Ate soup – soup that Renzo brought him.’
‘Did the doctor come?’
‘Yeah, but not till Leo called.’
‘Leo called?’ I didn’t know whether to be angry with the ever-grudging Nezer Deutsch or relieved that Leo was in good enough shape to manage the phone.
‘Insisted. Guess, all those years in charge of the monastery, he learned how to give an order, no nonsense. That squirrely doctor of his was banging on the door here in half an hour. I told Leo, I said, “Listen, I know medics. I can find you someone a damned sight better.” But he told me to mind my own business.’
‘Leo said that?’
‘Not in words.’
‘Did he spit, glare, stick out his tongue?’
‘Look, I’ve done hundreds, thousands of interrogations. I know what “I’ll deal with him” means.’
‘What’d the doctor say?’
‘To me? Nada. Waited till I was in the loo to sneak out.’
‘Sneak?’
‘Stomp fast. Out the door before I could zip up.’
Good save, John.
A grin escaped John’s clenched lips. ‘Leo said, loud enough so I heard, “Get yourself here at seven-thirty. That’s a.m.” Deutsch must’ve started to bitch. Next thing I hear is Leo: “Nope! Just be here.” Some doctor! Jeez, Darce, the whole city of San Francisco – can’t Leo do better? Doesn’t he have insurance? Everybody in California can have goddamned medical insurance now!’
‘We’ll find out when the ER bill arrives. Needless to say, I owe you. Meal on me, place of your choice.’
‘That and a weekend in Vegas.’
I wanted to retort: maybe you can find Gracie there. But I really did not want to get into the sudden idiosyncrasies of my sister with him now. I reached over and gave my brother an awkward hug.
Then I turned off the light and watched through the window till he was out of the courtyard. I stood there vaguely wondering if I was beginning to channel him.
Which was how come I was still there when the guy who’d been huddled in the courtyard got up, walked to our door, must have tried it, though I couldn’t hear any rattle, beat it out to the street and disappeared.
I fished out my phone and punched in John’s number.
He didn’t answer. As he’d complained minutes ago, his battery was dead.
I raced out of the zendo building at quarter to five in the morning on Thursday and just about fell over Lila Suranaman, huddled in the nearest corner, her long dark hair quivering in the breeze, her arms, in the sweatshirt and pants she always wore here, wrapped around her for warmth there was no way they could provide.
‘Early,’ she said.
Zazen wouldn’t start for two hours!
Her eyes flickered toward the door. Of course, she wanted to wait inside. It was cold and dark out here and someone was snoring in the far corner of the courtyard. Was this a different sleeper or had fear of John only moved him till John drove away last night? If this had been a movie, melodramatic music would be playing.
Thoughts flashed in my head: I don’t have time for this.
Lila’s been in worse spots dancing for dollars on Broadway. Surely. Or leaving there to walk here. And the country she escaped to come to America and end up slinging her body around a pole – she’d known danger there, right? None of which makes it any warmer now.
I can’t afford to be late on the set, today of all days.
If I let her wait inside … Hell, I could turn on a light in the zendo and let her sit on a zafu. She’s not going to tuck the Buddha under her arm and make a run for it.
Can’t do it. Not with Leo asleep upstairs.
I have to decide if the stunts can really work on Lombard. I can’t—
I grabbed her arm and hurried her down to Renzo’s Caffe where Renzo was just turning on the lights.
Minutes later I was envying her as I raced through the foggy dark for the muted lights of the lunch wagon atop Lombard Street. The wind was moving, not gusting, but moving just enough to batter skin with new smacks of fog. Coffee – the lunch wagon’s being nowhere near Renzo quality – can only do so much. The techs and gaffers and an odd clutch of neighbors or groupies stood in that jittery state between conked out and decently awake.
‘Can you set up the lights, on that low bank over there?’ I asked one of the gaffers. ‘I’m going to need it close to the outer wall on that first curve.’ The curves were banked and edged with cement walls high enough to keep all but the most errant drivers from bouncing into the shrubbery, but low enough to outline the hydrangeas and greens in the landscaped elbows that created the curves. I had a hooded flat-sided light to check the bricks and a good close-up camera.
‘Hey, I heard you got a big promotion! Way to go!’
I turned. There was Aurelia, inches from my back. You startled me! But stunt doubles don’t do startled, not unless it’s scripted. ‘Thanks. You’re here early.’ I kept walking toward the curve.
‘Lots to learn, right?’
‘Hmm.’ I’d forgotten about her urgent urge to be a stunt double. Truth be told, I’d forgotten about her and her huge pre-dawn bursts of energy. I did not have time—
‘Is this it, this set-up? What’re you—’
‘Checking for integrity.’ Trying to find a way to make these three gags even possible before the permit window closed on us. I motioned at Lombard Street with its red brick pavement and eight switchbacks. ‘The street’s meant for traffic, not for gags. I may end up covering the bricks with that rubber back there’ – I motioned toward the truck – ‘to slow the descent so we don’t go flying—�
�
‘Isn’t that what we want?’
‘It’s how we want it to appear. Death-defying made safe – your stunt coordinator at work.’
She nodded so eagerly her brown curly hair bounced.
‘We can add the brick look in post-production.’ I squatted down in front of the curve, my back to her, hoping she’d take the hint.
‘So we have more control?’
‘So we don’t land up in the shrubbery in every take on every scene.’
‘Because of the neighbors?’
I gave up. It’d be faster to answer than to deal with not answering. ‘Partly, though the company will restore the garden and anything else we run over. But we’ve got continuity to consider. We can’t be breaking branches on ten tries and on the take have the stunt double landing on bare sticks.’
‘Darcy …’ Her tone was different.
‘Yes.’
‘You’re going to be watching the trial runs, right? You’ll need to watch someone doing them, right?’
‘Hmm.’
‘Well, how about me?’
I should have seen it coming. I had seen it, just not coming this soon, and not coming to me. ‘Listen, this gag is much trickier than it looks—’
‘I’m tougher than I look. I can do this trial run. Look at these muscles.’
I didn’t. ‘Plus we’ve got a tight schedule. You don’t want to—’
‘I worked out every day. Weights. Ran when I could. Did chin ups in my room. I made it my business to come out in good shape.’
‘Aurelia, I’m sure you did. No, really. You’ve got a great future. It’s just not now. You don’t want to screw up the first time you try. And – this is key – you don’t want to cost the company money. Use this to watch and learn. Wait—’
‘Wait! I’ve waited the entire year. I … Shit!’ She slammed her paper cup onto the table, sending dark brown waves over it and the sidewalk, and stalked off down Lombard, losing the effect of her angry exit in the back and forth, back and forth of the switchback road.
If I hadn’t been so focused on the roadway issues, I’d have been stunned. Or furious. Or maybe I’d have laughed as a couple of the techs were doing. As it was, I was glad she was gone. I figured I’d deal with her later.