The Last Take

by Tabitha Bree

  I flip open the folder and see that handwritten, in fancy handwriting, is a name on the inside.

  EVIE MILLER.

  Even her boring paperwork is bubbly. I wonder if Evie Miller knows what she’s in for—that Hollywood has the habit of dangling your most cherished dreams in front of your face, and then laughing as it hides them behind its back and flips you off.

  Judging by the tiny unicorn doodles, I’m going to say no.

  7

  Evie

  If I’m going to be stuck on stage door watch, at least it’s always sunny in Burbank. I lean on the side of the building. Imagine doing this in New York? Or London, where it’s always cold and raining? Though I suppose then I’d have a proper use for my rain boots. I kick a stone across the ground, listening to it click against other rocks.

  Another pro to being on stage door watch is that it meant Dee had forgiven my mistake from a couple of weeks ago, and trusted me with the task. I have a feeling you aren’t allowed too many mistakes on this set. And you aren’t forgiven easily.

  “Can I go in?”

  Damon’s stunt double stands in front of me, his Australian accent taking me by surprise. Almost as much as his insane uncanniness to the leading man himself.

  “Holy moly, I can see why you got the job.”

  “Sorry?” He squints at me, shielding his eyes from the sun.

  “You could be Damon’s twin. If I saw you on the street, I’d ask for an autograph. But definitely not here, because that’s against the rules.” I shake my finger in the air, teacher-style.

  “You can have my autograph if you want,” he laughs. “So, can I go in?”

  “Oh… absolutely not. Not a chance.”

  “So that’s a no then?”

  He leans next to me on the wall, unscrewing the cap of his water and downing half the bottle.

  “How do you like being a stunt guy?” I ask.

  “It’s alright. I like to stay active, so the training is fun. And the pay is decent.”

  “Is that why you moved to LA then?”

  He looks at me sideways. “You’re the chatty one, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not sure I’m the chatty one. Usually people call me Evie. You’re Gus, right? My dad used to say I could talk underwater. Have you ever tried that? Going underwater and trying to figure out what the other person is saying? It’s actually really funny.”

  “I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it.” He smiles.

  “So, did you? Move to LA to be a stunt guy?”

  We are joined by a makeup assistant, a bag of tools strapped to her hip. “Can I sneak in?”

  “Nope, sorry. No one is getting past me.”

  “Not even if we’re really quiet?” Gus says. “I’m pretty limber, you know. I can move easily in confined spaces.”

  “I don’t care if you can turn into liquid and slide under the door,” I say, bracing in a karate position. “Neither of you is getting past until I say. Consider me Gandalf.”

  The MA raises her eyebrows. “Gandalf?”

  “Yeah, with the big old staff.” I hear them call cut through my earpiece, but I’m so engrossed in my reenactment that I can’t back out now. I put on my best booming wizard voice - “YOU SHALL NOT PASS” - and bang my imaginary staff on the ground. Gus laughs, but not before the stage door flings open and Adam walks through, seeing my Gandalf impression from start to finish.

  I can’t figure out the look on his face, caught somewhere between amusement and judgment. I figure I may as well loop him in on the joke.

  “So what do you say? Do I have a role in your next film?” I ask, completing the whole thing with a superman pose.

  Adam opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it again. He turns to Gus instead. “We’re setting up for the next scene. You can go through. I’ll be back in five.”

  Adam walks off toward the production office as Dee’s voice comes through my ear piece.

  “Evie, Jackson is taking over the door. You can come in now.”

  Before I leave my post I see Adam look back in my direction, do a sort of confused smile, shake his head, and keep walking.

  “Action!”

  Gus runs across the set roof, leaping into the air at the building’s edge. He waves his arms and legs around as the wires sling him across to the other roof, where he lands gracefully.

  “Cut!”

  “CUT,” I repeat, giving Gus the thumbs up from my position in the corner. He grins and starts chatting to the stunt coordinator.

  “I think we got it that time,” Adam says to the cinematographer. “Alright, let’s set up for the next shot.”

  The crew starts packing equipment to bring it down to the ground, and they fly back Gus to my rooftop.

  “What do I need to do to get a turn on that thing?” I say as he lands a few feet away from me.

  “About six months of general stunt training, for a start.”

  “Evie, can you fly in Damon?” Dee calls out to me. “We’re moving on.”

  “Copy.” I shrug at Gus. “Looks like this is the only flying I’m allowed to do.”

  Gus scrunches his face. “That’s a terrible joke.”

  “He’s right. Truly terrible.”

  I turn to see Adam beside us.

  “Aw, come on, boss. I know you like me.”

  Adam winces before clearing his throat. “What I’d like is for you to fly in Damon.”

  “Oh, right. On it!”

  I power walk through the sound stage and back to the outside world, making my way to Damon’s trailer. Which, from the exterior, looks like an intergalactic luxury bus.

  “Damon?” I knock lightly on the door. “They’re ready for you on set.”

  “I can’t,” he replies, muffled and higher pitched than usual.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Go away.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “That is the opposite of going away.”

  “Okay, I’m coming in. I hope you’re decent.”

  I walk up the small steps and into the trailer, the cool air immediately refreshing me.

  “Jesus,” he says, rubbing his hands over his face. “You really don’t know the meaning of go away, do you?”

  Every flirtatious vibe he’s been sending my way has vanished, and he’s sitting in a chair with a glass of either water or straight vodka.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I just need a few more minutes,” Damon says, downing the rest of his drink. By the way his face flinches, I’m thinking it isn’t water.

  “Um… Adam says they need you now.”

  “I just need a minute, okay?”

  He looks at me with huge hazel eyes, which I’m now noticing are a little red and puffy.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  He huffs and buries his face in his hands again.

  “Right. A minute. Got it.” I step out of the trailer and wait in the heat of the sun. A minute goes by, and then another minute, and then five more. I know my walkie is going to go off any second. Might as well beat them to the punch.

  “Evie for Delilah.”

  It’s quiet on the other end for a moment before “Dee’s gone ten-one. You’ve got Kylie.”

  “Oh… okay. Well, can you just tell them we’ll be a couple more minutes? Damon’s just have a…” I look back at the trailer door for signs of life “…moment.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s fine, he said he just needs some time.”

  It’s quiet on the other end. I try to look through the trailer window, but can’t see anything.

  “If Damon’s having issues, you can just send him to lunch early.”

  “Um… really?” I try to scratch an itchy spot at the back of my head, but my braid is in the way. “Are you sure? Adam said they need him.”

  “He does this all the time,” Kylie says. “They usually just take a break and pick up when Damon’s had a breather.”

  I chew on my lip. After
the stage door fiasco, I’d prefer to hear this guidance from the horse’s mouth.

  “I can check with Adam if you want,” she continues, reading my mind.

  “Actually, I do.”

  A few moments of silence follow, and there is still no sign of Damon emerging.

  “It’s fine. Tell him to go to lunch,” Kylie’s voice comes back through the earpiece.

  “Oh, okay great. I’ll let him know.”

  I step back into the trailer, where Damon has made no progress in the moving department. “Good news, you can go to lunch.”

  “Really?” He looks up, already grabbing his car keys.

  “You’re not eating lunch here?”

  “Nope. I’m going to get sushi.”

  He’s out the door before I can say California Roll. Instead of staying in his holding space like a weirdo, I head back to set.

  “Gosh, actors, am I right?” I say to Dee, who is back from her bathroom break.

  “Ugh, what is it now?”

  “Just Damon, being Damon.” I wave my hand. “But don’t worry, I sent him to lunch.”

  “Huh?”

  “We’re ready to go. Where’s Damon?” Adam joins us, looking at me.

  “He’s gone to lunch?”

  “He can’t go to fricking lunch. We’re about to shoot. I told you to fly him in. Go and get him.”

  My stomach drops. I look around, trying to spot Kylie. “But you… you said he could go to lunch?”

  “Why would I say that? Look, I don’t have time for this. Just get him.” Adam stalks back to the camera guys and I have to stop myself from throwing up. I follow Adam to meet my doom.

  “He’s like… gone to lunch, though. Like, he left the lot… in his car…”

  Adam turns around at a pace so slow it’s unnerving.

  “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “Ha ha?” I bring my hands up next to my shoulders, but my attempt to lighten the mood falls flatter than gaffer tape.

  “What part of fly in Damon means let him get in his fucking car and drive away?” Adam’s face has turned red now. “What is wrong with you?”

  “But you said—”

  “Do you have any idea how far behind we are already?” He is almost shouting now, and the entire sound stage is silent, listening in. It feels like not a single person is breathing. Except for Adam, whose chest is rising and falling like he’s about to morph into the Incredible Hulk.

  “This is going to screw up the entire schedule.”

  “I’m sorry, I really thought—”

  “Just get out of my sound stage.” He points towards the door, not making eye contact.

  “Adam, I…”

  “Seriously, leave.”

  I will not cry at work. I will not cry at work.

  I look at Dee, whose mouth is in a hard line. In fact, everyone either looks angry or as uncomfortable as I am.

  I speed walk out of the building before anyone can see me get upset. It’s not until I’m closing the door behind me I see Kylie skulking in the corner with a huge grin on her face.

  I was nine the first time someone called me a snitch. It was during math, and I saw Jimmie Morris defacing his desk with tiny penis drawings. The school had only just received new desks to replace our old ones, and I couldn’t believe someone was making them ugly already. At least draw something nice. But penises? Nobody wanted to see that. I raised my hand and told the teacher.

  For the next two years, they called me Snitchy Miller, and I vowed never to be a tattletale again. But I’m having a real hard time keeping that promise to myself now. Especially with Dee in front of me, holding a hand in the air and waiting for an answer.

  “Seriously, what the hell happened?”

  “I guess I just… relayed the wrong message,” I reply, watching as the crew spill out of the sound stage to go on early lunch.

  “I just don’t get it.” Dee’s not giving up. “Why would you think it was okay to tell him to leave?”

  I know I don’t owe Kylie anything. But Dee would probably just question why I listened to her anyway. Say that I’m not meant to take orders from other PAs about these things.

  And what I really can’t figure out is why Kylie set me up in the first place. What have I ever done to her? I’m always nice, always friendly. I just want us all to get along, but it’s like she has it in for me.

  “Well??”

  I exhale and meet Dee’s eyes. “I was trying to reach you, but you’d stepped out, so I had to go to someone else. And I guess the message got mixed up or something.”

  “Someone else who?” Dee’s eyes narrow.

  “Kylie.”

  Dee’s shoulders melt away from her ears and she nods, putting an arm around me. “Okay, I think I know what’s going on here.”

  We start walking toward the lunch tents.

  “Listen, Evie. You seem like a nice girl, so can I give you some advice?”

  I nod.

  “This is a dog-eat-dog industry. Sure, it’s great to make friends and I love your energy, don’t get me wrong. But some people will not be your friend. Take it from someone who’s spent years trying to get her big break.”

  She stops and faces me.

  “There are only so many spaces at the top, and everyone is trying to claw their way there.”

  So that’s what this is about? Kylie trying to take out the competition? We pick up trash for God’s sake. It’s a bit early for her to see me as a threat.

  I smile weakly. “Thanks.”

  She squeezes my arm and walks away.

  I turn around and look at the sound stages spread across the studio lot. Each housing incredible sets, gorgeous costumes, talented artists. Dee was right. I’m in now, this is my foot in the door. And if I want to make this work, I have to wise up. I like to see the best in people, but I’ve waited too long to be taken down by some psycho with a pixie cut. It’s time to step up and start facing this with a bit more gumption.

  But I have to talk to someone first.

  8

  Adam

  “What about the scene where he’s driving across the city?”

  I tear a piece off my dinner roll with my teeth. “What about it?”

  Eric rests on his elbows, putting big hand movements into the pitch I know I’m about to get. “I say we add a lion there, maybe a few chimps. More animals getting in his way, destroying his car—”

  “I swear we’ve had this conversation already.”

  Eric huffs and leans back in his seat, making eyes at Simon across the table. Simon rubs his jaw and goes in for a shot. “I think what Eric’s trying to say is, we’re veering too far away from the integrity of the script.”

  “Integrity?” I laugh and then see the look on Simon’s face. “No offense.”

  “How is that not offensive?”

  “Alright, alright, let’s not get off track,” Eric says, placing a hand on my arm. He must catch my vibe because he quickly removes it. “The thing is, we still need to make the film we set out to make.”

  “This will be better than the film you set out to make. Plus, cutting most of the cheesy CGI animal fight scenes is saving millions,” I point out.

  “I think we all know money isn’t an issue for Nolan.” Eric smirks.

  “Excuse me, Adam?”

  I look up to see Evie chewing on her lip.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  Before Eric can answer, I cut in. “You’re not.”

  “Great. I was hoping we could have a quick chat?”

  Despite the fact this girl completely fucked up my morning, I would rather be anywhere than having this conversation for the millionth time with Eric and Simon.

  “Guys, could you give us a minute?”

  Eric and Simon both look at Evie, like it’s unfathomable that a young PA could have anything more important to say than them. But on request, they push out their chairs and take their plates to another table. Evie sits down opposite me, her gaze darting aro
und. Seeing her big brown eyes, I have a flashback to shouting at her in the sound stage and feel a pang in my side.

  She clears her throat and finally faces me with a determined expression. “I wanted to apologize for earlier. I took directions from the wrong person and… I don’t want to make excuses. But it will never happen again. I’m sorry for spoiling your schedule.”

  I can tell by the way she speaks she’s been rehearsing this for the last twenty minutes.

  “Look… I didn’t mean to yell at you in front of everyone,” I say, wanting her to learn from this but also not liking the way she seems so… nervous around me. I’m not that scary, am I? “But you can’t just come in here with your yellow rain boots and your hair ropes and treat this place like a playground. It’s really important you know that.”

  “My hair ropes?” She looks at me, tilting her head.

  “Yeah,” I reply, bunching my eyebrows together. “Those… ropey things in your hair.”

  “You mean my braids?”

  She pulls one rope to the side, sliding it through her hand.

  “I’m not hair and makeup. I don’t know the technical term.”

  She’s smiling now, trying to conceal a giggle behind her hand. The way her nose scrunches makes her freckles stand out more.

  “Anyway, I just need you to know this is serious. We don’t have much room for screw ups like that. There’s a lot at stake.”

  That’s the thing about these PAs. They have zero understanding of what it’s like to have a position at the top. People depending on you. Great power equals great responsibility and all that crap.

  She nods. “Sure. You must be under a lot of pressure to get it right.”

  “Err… yeah. Exactly.”

  She shrugs. “And you don’t need me and my hair ropes coming in here and making it harder for you.”

  I’m distracted by her face. When she smiles, the way she’s smiling now, with her mouth closed, her lips look smooth and soft. Not huge and uncomfortable, like many people I see around these parts. But sweet… and approachable. Her eyes float down to the table.

  Fuck.