The Last Take

by Tabitha Bree

  With the tide low enough, the crew sets up and Damon starts rehearsing. This time, it involves his love interest in the film. A beautiful actress called Emma with tiny pores and an even tinier waist. During this scene in the film, their romantic moment in the water is interrupted when a shark appears out of nowhere and tries to eat them. I watch from the shore as Adam goes through the blocking, his pants rolled up to his calves to reveal surprisingly muscular legs.

  When it comes time to shoot, Sylvia walks as instructed across the back of the frame with another model-looking extra. I give them a thumbs up as I watch it on the monitor. Everything goes without a hitch, and the crew starts setting up to shoot from another angle.

  “So let me get this straight.” I stand next to Adam, watching Damon rehearse. He scoops Emma away from the invisible shark. “The animals in this movie attack the humans because of something they’re drinking in the water, right?”

  “The more you talk about it, the more I want to kill myself,” Adam groans.

  “But sharks live in the sea, so why are they affected by the drinking water?”

  Adam inhales and bunches his shoulders around his ears.

  “And furthermore, sharks are already predators to humans. So why is this scene even relevant to the storyline? It’s not out of the ordinary that a shark might try to eat you.”

  Adam turns to me, placing his hands on my bare shoulders. An unexpected current runs down my arms as he touches my skin. I need to reapply more sunblock—I’m probably getting a sunburn.

  “When it comes to working on films as nonsensical as this one, I find it best to just ignore the glaring plot holes and let it kind of,” he looks out at the ocean, “wash over you.”

  I laugh and see Dee behind him, staring at his hands on my shoulders. My laugh is abruptly cut short and Adam drops his arms, turning back to Joel.

  Dee wouldn’t think I’m trying to flirt, would she?

  The last thing I need is someone on set getting the wrong idea about me. To think that I’m the kind of girl who would bat her eyelashes to get what she wants.

  I pull a tube of sunblock from the supply bag strapped to my hips and squeeze a blob into my hands, rubbing it into the spaces where Adam’s hands were just moments before.

  “You don’t think I’m a flirt, do you?”

  Sylvia snorts. “You? You’re practically an elementary school teacher. All buttons and crayons and braids in your hair.”

  “So… does that mean no?”

  “That means no, sweetie.”

  “Okay good.” I relax my shoulders, watching Adam talk angles with the cinematographer.

  “Why do you ask?”

  I shrug casually. “I just… want to make the right impression here. Especially to my superiors.”

  “I see.” Sylvia nods, following my eyes to where they land. We’re quiet for a moment, listening to nothing but the sounds of the waves lapping against the sand. That and the sounds of Brian’s goofy laugh as he annoys Dee.

  “But he’s been looking at you all day, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “Who?”

  “You know who,” Sylvia says with a smirk.

  “Adam?”

  “No, George. Of course Adam!”

  “Adam can barely stand to be around me. I exhaust him,” I reply, curling my braid into a bun so I can feel the sun on my back. “He said I was like one of those singing Christmas toys that never seem to run out of battery.”

  “You are like one of those singing Christmas toys that never seem to run out of battery,” she confirms. “But he’s still been looking at you.”

  “I’m a PA. He’s probably been looking for water because he’s thirsty.”

  “He’s thirsty for something.”

  I pinch her arm skin.

  “Ow!”

  A few heads turn in our direction, including Adam’s.

  “Nothing to see here folks,” I say, holding a hand in the air. “Just some innocent girl-on-girl play fighting on the beach.”

  Sylvia drops her head and groans, and I hear a quiet “alright!” from Brian.

  It’s time to shoot the next scene—the one with Damon and Emma rolling around on the sand together—and it’s my job to be on standby with fresh towels to brush the sand off their backs in-between takes.

  There is something about watching two very attractive people maul each other for half an hour that makes you think about your own love life.

  Or lack thereof, in my case.

  It’s not like I’ve never been interested in finding love. It just sort of… never happened for me. And forget love. I’ve never even had a boyfriend.

  I was the girl in school who, despite taking every science class under the sun, spent my free periods in the drama room, watching the theater geeks rehearse. Or sneaking into the media class so I could play with the cameras. And when I wasn’t doing that, I was usually found under a tree, by myself, with my nose stuck in the next great adventure novel. I wasn’t a girl the boys were interested in. At my first boy-girl party, I got picked for seven minutes in heaven with a guy called Rich. The silence in that wardrobe was so deafening that I decided to entertain him instead with a rendition of ‘Hot in Herre’ because I thought it would lighten the mood.

  It didn’t.

  I was always the weird girl. The extra girl, before it was trendy to be extra. I liked to sing, and I liked to dance, and I liked to dress up as old male characters for Halloween. And none of these things were conducive to being asked out on dates.

  But it’s not like I haven’t had sex. I had sex with my biology partner just after graduation, the softly spoken guy from the movie theater, the tech rental guy from college. But it’s not until now that I’m looking down at Emma writhing over Damon with her string-bikini backside mooning the air, that I calculate I haven’t had sex for a really, really long time.

  “Cut!” Adam calls, followed by, “Evie, we need it to be wetter.”

  “What?” I look up with rounded eyes. Did I recite that last part out loud?

  Jesus, take the wheel.

  “The ground. It needs to be wetter. The sun’s dried them off too much. They’re meant to look like they just got out of the water after he saved her.”

  “Oh… right.”

  I grab the bucket and march toward the ocean, grateful for it cooling my feet as I scoop up the water. I’m probably just dehydrated. Too many hours in the sun.

  “Where do you want it?” I ask, standing there with the full bucket.

  “Just all over.”

  Adam looks like he’s had some sun, too. But not in a dehydrated way. In a tanned, sun kissed kind of way. Not that I’m thinking about kissing. I shake my head, returning to the task at hand, and empty the contents of the bucket.

  Which is followed by an ear-piercing screech.

  Everyone is staring now. At me, holding the empty bucket over Damon and Emma’s heads. Who now look like a couple of drowned rats.

  “Why did you do that??” Emma looks up at me, water pouring from her chin.

  “I meant on the ground, not on them! We have makeup for that,” Adam says, pointing to the makeup girl standing by with a spray bottle.

  “I’m so sorry!” I cover my mouth. “I misunderstood.”

  But Adam’s shoulders are shaking, his face muffled into his hand as he and Joel laugh at Damon and Emma’s sounds of distress.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, turning back to Emma. “You still look really pretty.”

  She glares at me, and this seems to make Adam laugh more. As he leans on George’s shoulder, I can’t help but watch—the sun making his brown hair fleck golden, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the huge genuine grin on his face as he tries to compose himself. It’s completely refreshing to see after weeks of grump. And completely infectious.

  I find myself smiling over at him before I catch Sylvia’s eye. She is smiling too, but hers is different—smugger.

  I huff, taking my empty bucket back to t
he ocean and wishing I could dive right in.

  I need to cool down more than just my feet.

  The tide has risen again, so we are waiting right next to the rocky wall for it to go back down before we can do another take. The sun is lower in the sky, and although we’re being held up, the vibe is mellow. Everyone is relaxed, taking a moment to appreciate the serenity. Sylvia has been wrapped for the day, so I take a seat on a rock next to George, who looks like he’s enjoying a peaceful moment of his own.

  “Whatcha thinking about, George?” I ask, adjusting my shorts to make sure I’m not flashing anyone.

  “Oh, you know… this and that.”

  “There’s something about the beach, isn’t there?” I say, gazing out at the cloudless sky. “No matter what’s happening in your life, it always makes you stop and ponder.”

  “It sure does.”

  I look across at him, and can see the afternoon sun reflected in his eyes.

  “Do you go swimming much?”

  “I’m not into the saltwater,” he says, before smiling. “But my wife, Elsa. She loves the ocean. Can’t get enough of it.”

  I grin. “I bet she drags you out here.”

  “All the time.” He pauses for a moment, and his smile slowly disappears. “Though not as much lately.”

  “How come?”

  He picks up a stick from the sand. “Cancer.”

  I inhale sharply. “Oh George, I’m so sorry.”

  “She got sick a few years ago. Breast cancer. Beat it like a trooper, too.” He fumbles with the stick before snapping it into pieces and throwing them onto the sand. “But we found out a few months ago it’s back. She doesn’t feel too good with all the chemo. She spends her time indoors, mostly.”

  “That must be really hard on both of you.”

  “Oh, I’m alright,” he says with a tight smile. “I’m not sick.”

  “You don’t have to do that, George.” I place my hand on his wrist. He looks at it and then at my face, his eyebrows curving.

  “I’m sure you’re a rock for your beautiful wife. But it’s just us pals talking,” I go on. “You don’t have to be tough in front of me.” I give his arm a squeeze and take my hand back, following his lead and picking sticks from the sand.

  He laughs, looking at me curiously, before taking another stick. “Well, I suppose you’re right. It sure has been rough.”

  I nod, letting him go on.

  “And I come to places like this, and it hits me all over again. All the things she is already missing out on.”

  He is still smiling, but his eyes are glassy when he looks over at me.

  “And I don’t want to come to beautiful places without her.”

  I have to hold back my own tears. In any other case, I’d be sobbing like a baby. But if George is holding it together, gosh darn it, so will I.

  “You’re lucky to have found each other,” I say, meaning it with all my heart.

  Hearing George talk about his wife the way he does… I can only imagine what it feels like to have that kind of support in my life. Someone who is always in your corner, no matter what. Someone who has your back completely. That kind of unconditional care is foreign to me.

  I let the conversation meander to other things. I can tell George isn’t the type of man to talk about his feelings often, so I don’t want to be a pest. And eventually, the sun’s dipping toward the water.

  Adam lets out a disheartened sigh. “Looks like we’re losing the light. And this tide is going nowhere fast. We’ll just have to work with what we have.”

  The crew doesn’t need any more encouragement. We pack up the equipment, walking everything up the narrow steps that lead to where we are all parked. Adam is the first to leave, and I have a flashback to watching him on the beach earlier.

  Stupid Sylvia.

  It’s all her fault for getting in my head.

  I’ve picked up all the trash we left behind when Dee comes running up to me, jingling. “Great! You haven’t left,” she puffs, handing me a set of keys.

  “Adam left his house keys here. Can you drive them to his condo so he isn’t locked out for too long? I’ll text you the address.”

  14

  Adam

  Whoever made up the expression ‘adding insult to injury’ must have been talking about their ex-girlfriend cheating on them, stealing their cat, and then fleeing with their spare key.

  Of all fucking times to lose my house keys.

  I check underneath the potted cactus for the third time, just in case it has magically materialized since I last looked. It’s dark now, and all I can think about is climbing under my showerhead and washing the salt and sweat off my body. Not that it was a terrible day. Actually, as far as ten-hour shoots in the sun go, this one was relatively painless.

  Until I lost my fucking house keys.

  “Are you a peeping tom?”

  I spin around and see no other than Evie Miller, walking up my driveway.

  “I should call neighborhood watch on you,” she says with a grin.

  “Err…” I splutter, trying to make sense of her being here, on my property. Like when you see an old teacher at a supermarket and can’t place them away from a classroom. “I lost my house keys.”

  She opens her palm, revealing three keys on a chain. “Ta-da!”

  “How–?”

  “You left them at the beach,” she says, tossing them to me. “Dee told me to chase after you. It was all very stop them before their plane leaves from the airport, rom-com style.”

  “Right.” I blink, not even beginning to know what she’s on about. “Well, thanks.”

  I finally step through my front door, relieved that a shower isn’t too far in my future.

  “Wow, great place!” Evie says, following me inside like I invited her. “Your ceilings are so high, I can hear my echo.”

  She cups her mouth, and I brace for whatever she is about to do next.

  “Hello!” she shouts in a strange low voice, followed by a quieter impression of an echo, “hello… hello… hello…”

  “If you can hear your own echo, why do you need to fake an echo?”

  “Aw, cute!” she chirps, ignoring my question. “Is this your kitty?”

  She picks up a photo of Rufus, the only remaining proof that he ever lived here. Except for the stray hairs that have accumulated under every piece of furniture.

  “He was.”

  She brings the photo to her chest, looking at me like I just told her there is no Santa Claus. “Oh no, I’m so sorry.”

  “No—he didn’t die,” I jump in, because it looks like she’s about to burst into tears. “My ex came and took him a couple of weeks ago.”

  “She stole him?”

  “Well, he was technically hers, I guess,” I say, feeling like she very much did steal him. “But I’d been looking after him the last few months.”

  “And she just came and took him back?” Evie puts the photo back on the mantle. “That’s awful.”

  “It’s fine, really.”

  “But you must miss him? His little paws padding across the floor to greet you… his little meows to tell you he’s ready for dinner…”

  Something unexpected tightens around my chest, and I know she’s right. I do miss that stupid cat. The place has been so quiet since he’s been gone.

  “Yeah… I guess it sucks a bit.”

  She smiles sympathetically and continues her walk around the living room. It’s so strange seeing her here, in my home. Walking around and looking at my stuff. A home is a very private thing, and having her inside is oddly… intimate.

  “Jesus, you don’t like color, do you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The walls.” She points around in case I don’t know what walls are. “They’re just stark white. Don’t you own any other photos? Any artwork?”

  “I don’t have time to bother with that stuff.” I shrug. Kimberly always talked about decorating the condo early on. But when she grew distant,
she lost interest in the place. Too busy banging dudes named Dave to care about couch cushions.

  “Okay, well, I guess I’ll get out of your hair,” Evie says, walking toward the door.

  “Where did you park?”

  “Just over on another side street, around the corner.”

  “It’s sort of a shady area at night,” I say, looking out the window. All I can think about is jumping in the shower, but the last thing I need is my PA getting jumped after running an errand for me. “I’ll walk you.”

  Darkness is falling and the air has turned fresh. Evie wraps her arms around herself, her shoulders still bare from a day under the sun. I feel like a jerk for not offering her a jacket, but all I have is my sweaty t-shirt, so giving her that would be inappropriate for many reasons. And also gross.

  “Today went well, right?” She looks at me hopefully.

  “Every day done is a day closer to me finishing this job. So, yes.”

  She rolls her eyes. I know that after talking me into staying, all she wants is for me to have fun. But I’d be lying if I said the fact that I’m still directing this movie doesn’t stab me in the guts like a kidney stone. Though I have to admit, having a great team makes it more tolerable.

  We turn the corner and I see a familiar face further up on the sidewalk. I feel bad that I don’t have any leftover catering today, because the crew just got takeout for lunch. As we get closer, my body tightens up. I consider Bob a friend, but you can never predict how people will react around the homeless. Sometimes with disgust or pity. But usually they just pretend they don’t exist at all… which is probably the worst. I hate to think of people being like that to Bob. I hate to think of Evie being like that to Bob.

  We’re a few feet away, and I consider just talking to him on the way back so I don’t have to find out what Evie will do.

  He’s right here now.

  I’m out of time.

  Fuck.

  “Beautiful fresh night, isn’t it?” Evie says.