by Lucy Lambert
“I don’t understand,” I started. I needed to defend myself. I could feel everything I’d worked for since moving to California slipping away and I couldn’t just let it all run between my fingers like sand.
“She assaulted me!” Linda snarled.
It is, though. It’s all going away!
I wanted to scream back at Linda, but some rational scrap left inside of me told me I would only make things worse if I did.
Mitch looked at me, “Erin, is this true?”
I noticed then that silence filled the lot. Everyone—the stage managers, the carpentry crew, the extras, even my fellow PAs like Danny—all stood, watching and listening.
Of course they pretended not to.
But there was no drama like on-set drama. I would be the buzz of all the stories and the butt of all the jokes when shooting wrapped for the day.
And not a single person stepped forward in my defense
“It’s not true,” I said. I tried speaking so that only the director, the stage manager, and Linda could hear me.
I could feel every other ear in the area straining. People all leaned in towards us like we were a black hole pulling everything in.
“Are you calling me a liar?” Linda demanded.
Mitch ignored her for the moment. He stepped in closer to me. “This is serious, Erin. The director’s going to tell me to let you go. Is there anything, any proof, that Linda’s lying?”
I struggled, I really did, to maintain eye contact with him. My arms, already wrapped around me, hugged even tighter. Tight enough so that my ribs complained.
“Just my word against hers. I don’t even know what the problem is.”
Even when the words left my mouth I knew how ridiculous they sounded. The word of a production assistant, and a student assistant at that, versus Hollywood’s newest darling?
I had the chances of a single candle facing down a hurricane and a tsunami at the same time.
I could see all this written across Mitch’s face, too. “I’m sorry,” he said, low enough so that only I heard him.
That was the point when most people probably would have gone and packed the contents of their locker and tried.
But I didn’t travel from Maine to California just to get kicked out.
“What did she tell you?” I asked Troy Sanders.
Mitch turned around, surprised. Even Linda looked a little shocked. I guess she thought I should’ve tucked tail and ran.
“Pardon?” Troy replied. A gust of wind grabbed at his hat so he grabbed the bill and pulled it back down over his forehead. It was a plain red cap, no logo on it.
“What did she say I did?”
Troy glanced at Linda, who stood there with her arms crossed, and then back at me.
“She says you grabbed her and dragged her half way across the whole lot,” Troy said. “Not that anyone saw.” His tone said what he really believed.
“You’re just lucky I don’t have bruises!” Linda interjected, ignoring the last bit from Troy.
I didn’t know what to say. I knew I needed to say something. The weight of expectation pressed down on my shoulders. The expectations of the whole crew.
Would I stand up to the talent or would I take my licks and leave?
Vance broke in before I could choose.
“Running late, I know,” he said, appearing from between the large warehouses that housed sound stages 12 and 13. He smiled and appeared genuinely happy.
When my eyes met his that smile grew. My cheeks burned. Not from embarrassment or juvenile attraction but as a reflection of all the thoughts and feelings burning in my chest.
Your fault, I thought.
Then he noticed the mood, the staring. Linda tapped her foot. A dark-haired woman wielding a mobile makeup kit came over and started applying some blush to Linda’s cheeks with a brush.
“Oh, go away!” Linda snapped.
“Are we filming a funeral scene or something?” Vance cracked.
Troy smiled the tight-lipped smile he reserved for Vance. “No. You can report to makeup. We need a couple of establishing shots. No dialog, just the two of you. Don’t worry about this; it’ll be taken care of by the time you get back.”
Then Vance surprised me. The smile dropped off his face and he took real stock of the situation. He turned his attention to Linda. “What did you do?”
“Excuse me? Are you talking to me?” Linda said.
Part of me felt glad then about getting canned. With the two leads at each other’s throats this film was going to be even more difficult to shoot than before.
Off-camera chemistry came through on film. And the only chemistry these two had now was the kind vinegar and baking soda shared.
“Yes, I am,” Vance said.
Troy jumped in between them, holding up his clipboard and his free hand as though surrendering.
“It’s nothing, Vance. Nothing you have to worry about.”
Vance glared at him.
Troy gave a quick rundown of the situation. Vance looked back at me and I thought that, just for a moment, I saw something that looked like real human guilt.
But he could have just been practicing for a scene.
“No,” Vance said.
Troy added more premature lines to his forehead with another frown. “No… what?”
Yes, no what? I wanted to say something. I even stepped forward to say something, but Mitch put a hand on my shoulder and shook his head when I looked at him.
“Two things,” Vance said, wearing a self-satisfied grin, “One, that’s not what happened at all. Two, the girl goes, so do I.”
“What?” The word exploded from my mouth, loud in the relative silence of the set. Once more, all eyes fixed on me. Again I blushed, my cheeks hot. This time it was definitely embarrassment.
“Yes,” Linda interjected, pushing past her stylist, “what the hell?”
My heart sped up. I let myself think that I might actually get through this mess.
I just tried not to think it was because of Vance Tracker.
“You heard me,” Vance said. He crossed his arms, planted his feet, and dared anyone to defy him.
It was kind of sexy.
Don’t forget what he did.
Troy’s tight-lipped smile widened until I thought it might tear his cheeks. I pitied him. Directing some people was like herding cats.
“Vance, I really don’t see how any of this is your concern. And even if it was, you can’t just walk. You have a contract.”
Vance shrugged. The color drained from Troy’s face when he saw that no, this wasn’t a joke.
Linda saw this, too. She stepped forward. “No. There’s no way she stays. Either she goes or… or…”
We all watched Linda. She’d spent the weeks before shooting started appearing on the Late Show, the Late Late Show, and a few others talking this project up. If she left it now, and over this - over me - it would seriously damage her career.
Vance wouldn’t get away unscathed, either. But he was established. She wasn’t.
This all dawned on Linda. Her eyes widened. Her mouth closed.
The childish part of me wanted to stick my tongue out at her. But I didn’t.
And Vance stood there, implacable as a marble statue.
Linda let out a mirthless little laugh, shook her head, and stormed away. Her poor, harried-looking stylist followed after a moment.
“I don’t know why he just did that,” Mitch said. “But it looks like you’re safe for now.”
“Not from him,” I muttered under my breath.
This could have been avoided if he’d just showed up on time. Where was he? Probably checking himself out in the mirror in his trailer the whole time.
Chapter 5
VANCE
I felt good.
For one, I beat Linda. She pouted over by the trailer that housed many of the costumes for the film. Her stylist continued fretting over her.
My own stylist, an older woman named Audrey with a
beautiful face, swished a brush quickly over my cheekbones, her makeup palette held in one hand like she was Michelangelo.
Second, I’d saved Erin’s job.
She and a group of the other assistants helped with the various non-union jobs, putting things into the scene under the eyes of Sanders and the stage manager.
We were doing a couple of establishing shots, Linda and I walking down a couple corridors with big windows.
The big windows were actually just big green rectangles. The effects guys would use a bit of movie magic to fill in the snowy mountains and windswept village that Linda and I had to pretend we saw.
I watched as Erin and some tall, lanky guy lugged a big wooden armoire into place between two of those green windows.
Yes, I felt good. Not only because I wanted Erin to stay. But because it had been the right thing to do to defend her against Linda’s accusations.
Though part of me wondered if maybe I should have let her get fired. The film industry could be a tough and merciless business, crushing hopes and dreams. I knew about that. More than I wanted.
When I felt good, the shooting went well.
“Places!” Troy said into the megaphone he held. It crackled.
Linda and I walked that fake hall a dozen times, each one slightly different. We walked once at a brisk pace. Once at a saunter, my hands in my pockets. Again with a pause in the middle to stare out one window.
Troy wanted us to pretend to see the mountains then. I found myself picturing a sun-drenched beach.
The final time, Troy approached us. “Linda, you lean against the frame and stare. Look worried. Vance, I want you to look at Linda. Look at her like she’s the only thing you see in the whole world. Got it?”
Linda shrugged. I nodded.
We took our places. Linda leaned against the windowsill. I leaned against the wall beside her, thumbs hooked in the pockets of my chinos.
A PA with a headset on stepped out in front of the camera holding the slate. The red digital lettering on the front probably read something like “Hallway Scene Take 11.”.
“Action!” Troy called out.
Funny, not much action happening. We might as well have been posing for a tableau painting.
Linda still looked so fit and fine. In fact, the way she leaned against the sill, her butt sticking out, I thought she was trying to get a rise out of me.
Somewhere on the lot, a car horn blatted. It didn't matter; they’d take it out in post. I wasn’t even sure they were recording any audio. This would probably be part of some montage sequence, an upbeat song playing over the whole thing.
I saw her eyes flick towards me and then back at the green screen and that confirmed it.
I looked at her like Troy asked.
But then I saw Erin standing at the other end of the set. The hallway ended abruptly in a gaping rectangular hole, letting out on the lot.
Erin stood framed by sunlight in a gaggle of other assistants. She was right in my line of sight.
I watched her, felt the barest smile tightening the muscles in my cheeks.
She saw me looking. Her eyes widened, then relaxed. She didn’t move. Couldn’t, really. So many actors, myself among them, hated it when the crew moved around during a shoot. It broke the spell too easily, all that distraction.
I took the opportunity to consider her more carefully. She had sharp but delicate features. Quite pretty, in that girl next door way. Her dark hair fell in ringlets to her shoulders, setting off her fair complexion.
In an unconscious gesture, she chewed her bottom lip. I caught slivers of white teeth pushing against the natural pink blush of that lip.
My smile widened a little. She’s wondering why I did it. She’s wondering how she should feel about it.
I caught myself wondering about the color of her eyes. I reached back in my mind. Hazel? I thought, but wasn’t certain.
I meant to find out.
I wished I could dare a wink. But the camera might catch it, and it could ruin the whole take.
Linda kept shooting increasingly angrier glances my way. She could tell that I wasn’t looking at her. And she wanted me to.
I didn’t care.
“Vance,” she said under her breath, “what are you doing?”
I didn’t reply. The rosy irritation in her cheeks deepened.
“Cut!” Troy yelled.
I pushed away from the wall and started down the fake hallway. Troy intercepted me before I could, putting his plump little body in my path.
“That was good, Vance. Real good,” Troy said. “It was like everything else in the world disappeared for you except Linda.”
“Yeah, except for her,” I said. I realized that with the camera angles it would have looked like I’d been looking at Linda, instead of just past her.
Troy looked a little nervous, a little sweaty. He didn’t know exactly how to behave around me, and I liked it that way.
“Right,” he said. “Just, uh, keep it up. They’re a little behind schedule on the castle set, but as soon as carpentry has it up we’ll be shooting the confrontation scene. I’ll have someone come get you from your trailer.”
“Okay,” I said, sparing him a glance.
When I looked back up, the crowd of assistants at the end of the hall dispersed. I couldn’t see Erin.
I brushed past Troy and went looking for her.
A hand fell on my shoulder.
“Vance? Can we talk?”
Chapter 6
ERIN
I thought about staying there. And by there, I mean the end of the fake hallway.
Mr. Sanders yelled “Cut!” Everyone started moving off, the crew no longer on pause while the cameras rolled.
Mitch started herding us away.
“Okay guys, we have to get over to Stage 9 and help with the castle setup. We’re behind schedule so helping with the tear down here will happen after we’re done with the setup over there,” he said.
Except I didn’t follow along, not right away at least.
I loitered near the hallway set. I saw Mr. Sanders talking to Vance.
Why did he help me? I kept thinking. And why did he look at me during that shoot?
I had somehow gotten the attention of the man who used to be, and still was to many people, the most desirable man in Hollywood.
I thought maybe it was a touch of guilt for being responsible for my chewing out at the hands of Linda. He knew he was late. He had to know that would get me in trouble.
What could he have possibly been doing? I wondered. It was a pretty straight shot from his trailer to the set.
I figured he chose that moment as another opportunity of defiance. He’d been late because he wanted to be late. Because he could be late with no more repercussion than a slap on the wrist.
Troy was far too scared of him to do anything more than that.
I leaned up against the frame of the set, peering around it. Troy walked away. Vance started walking again, in my direction.
My heart leapt into my throat.
Some part of me still fantasized that it could be something more.
But it isn’t. That’s ridiculous.
But then Linda came up behind him, put a hand on his shoulder. He stopped and faced her.
Linda. Beautiful, sexy Linda. I was a candle next to her bonfire of hotness.
It’s just some game he’s playing, I thought. He’d been frustrated with Linda, so he decided to play with me.
It looked to me as though they were about to kiss and make up.
To my surprise, my stomach started boiling with jealousy. Why? It made no sense.
Vance’s glamour over me broke last summer, like it did for so many others, when it all came out about what he did to poor Sandra.
I should be glad. I am glad, I told myself.
“Everyone inside!” I heard Mitch say. I lingered for a moment but then left to do my job.
Inside Stage 9 was a castle. Its walls stood far overhead, probably 20 feet hig
h or more. Its turrets reached almost to the high lofted ceiling, which was infested with snares of cables and banks of lights.
People always said that when you found out how a magician did his tricks, it ruined the fun. But seeing the secrets of how a movie came together kept me even more spellbound than before.
The massive green screens behind and beside the castle would be replaced by rolling hills and snowy mountains. It would transport people away from their lives for a little while, at least.
That was the real magic. Making people believe, making people disappear into the story.
I shivered coming into the sound stage, transitioning from the dry California heat to the vast, air-conditioned space of the warehouse.
Mitch teamed me up with Danny again, tasking the two of us with hanging some banners from the castle wall.
“Put up four, two on each section of the wall. You can see the hooks for them from here. Just remember safety; I don’t want to have to tell your professors that we had to scrape you off the floors.” He pointed over to a handcart with a wooden crate on it. Sumptuous fabric the color of dark rose petals lay piled in them. A ladder already leaned against one false castle wall.
Danny rushed over right away, unfurling one of the banners. The twisted symbol of the Third Reich adorned the center of the banner.
“Nazis, of course,” I said, taking one end of the banner. We hadn’t really filmed much yet, being only a few weeks in. And Troy Sanders liked his secrets.
“Wish we got to see the script,” Danny said.
No one working on the movie seemed to know what it was about. In this Internet age it was far too easy for someone to leak every last detail about a movie. Only the people who needed scripts would have them.
And even they had probably signed some hefty non-disclosure agreements.
I wonder if Vance would tell me if I asked? I thought, rubbing the fabric of the banner between thumb and index finger.
I shook my head. Of course he wouldn’t. Stop seeing things that aren’t there!
Of course, when I thought about it this all made sense. The bits of the movie I’d seen filmed, that is.