The Last Take

by Tabitha Bree

  “I know what you mean,” I say, taking the fresh glass of wine to my lips.

  16

  Adam

  We have a night shoot later, and the crew call isn’t until after lunch. I take the opportunity to come to the studio and get some work done while no one is here. I find an empty office and pull out the shot list for the next few days, cringing at what is ahead.

  Despite Nolan coming in and turning everything on its ass, we’re still surprisingly on schedule. We only need to cut a few scenes that we already shot to fit in with the revised story. And unsurprisingly, Damon is much more efficient at being the cheesy, manly action hero than he is the pensive, complex male protagonist.

  Shocking, I know.

  I keep reminding myself this is the last one. I just have to deliver something Nolan is happy with so he doesn’t blacklist me across Hollywood and keep my crew in a job. And then it’ll be over.

  I take a sip of my coffee, wishing there was a splash of whiskey in there. Maybe when all this is done and dusted, I can become one of those tortured artist types. The ones who roll out of bed at noon and start their day with a scotch neat.

  “Oh, you’re here!”

  I spit my coffee over the shot list, a few drops trickling down my chin. “Jesus, fuck!”

  “That’s no way to speak to our long-haired pal upstairs,” Evie quips, edging through the door with a large rectangle board in her arms. “I didn’t think you’d be here today?”

  I wipe the coffee from my chin. “I just came in to get—I’m the director, I’m always here. Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to bring something in before heading to location later.” She sets the board down, leaning it against the wall. Today she has swapped out her yellow rain boots for converse, which she has decorated herself with tiny flowers. When she turns around, I busy myself picking up the shot list and sponging the coffee from it with a tissue.

  “That should go with the other props. It might just get lost in here,” I say, nodding towards the board.

  “It isn’t for props,” she says, a grin spreading across her face. “I sort of did a thing.”

  “Well, don’t hold out on me, Miller. The suspense is killing me.”

  If she detects my sarcasm, she doesn’t care, picking up the board and spinning it around so that I can see the other side.

  “What the—?”

  “A present. You know, for saving me the other day,” she announces.

  “We don’t need to bring that up again.”

  “I know.” A piece of hair falls from behind her ear, and I have the bizarre urge to tuck it back where it belongs. “But I still wanted to show my appreciation.”

  I nod, looking back at the canvas, which displays a large painted cat face. “Well… it sure is something.”

  It suddenly clicks that this is not just any cat. This is Rufus. Up close and personal. The likeness is impressive, don’t get me wrong. I’ve just never seen a cat’s face quite so zoomed in and… large.

  “How did you…?”

  “Yeah… I kind of stole your photo of Rufus,” she admits, making a ‘my bad’ sort of face. “Originally, I planned to get it framed, so you’d have something to hang on the wall. But after the chandelier thing…” Her freckled cheeks have touches of pink in them as she sets the painting back down. “I just thought this would be cooler.”

  “You painted a portrait of my cat?”

  “Of course!” she chirps, like it’s the natural reaction to someone saving you from a bunch of falling four-pound candles. “I thought it would brighten up the place. You’re in desperate need of color.”

  “It will definitely be a focal point.” I look at Rufus’s huge face, captured in bright colors and thick brush strokes.

  I’m never getting laid again. At least, not with that in my house.

  She bounces on the spot, waiting for my official reaction. I can’t exactly tell her what I really think—that I find it slightly terrifying and creepy—so I nod my head and do my best impression of stoked.

  “It’s great. Thanks.”

  She smiles. “I knew you’d like it. Now you can see his face every single day.”

  I look at the cat’s intense gaze. Seeing it in my condo late at night will take some getting used to.

  “Well, I’m going to head to location. I’ll see you there,” she says, bouncing out of the office.

  But then again, I’m sure it will grow on me.

  The drive to location takes longer than I expect, but it gives me a chance to think. Not about the movie, and not about my dad, but about something I haven’t allowed myself to think about.

  The weird incident on set the other day.

  I can’t get it out of my head, as much as I’ve tried. And trust me, I’ve tried. But there’s only so many times you can scold yourself to stop fucking thinking about it before you give up and try a new tactic.

  It’s not just the intense instinct to protect Evie that caught me off guard. I’m sure all bosses want to protect their team from getting fucking maimed. No… it’s the weird feeling I got when I was lying on top of her, and our eyes met…

  I can still see them now, deep brown and gazing intently back at me. I can still feel her chest rising and falling under mine. I can still smell her sweet vanilla-y perfume as my nose sat inches from her creamy neck.

  Creamy neck?

  What the fuck is happening to me?

  And this is why I have to sort my head out. It’s been months since Kimberly and I broke up, and I still haven’t got back out there. Dating is exhausting, and I just don’t have it in me right now. But if the incident proved anything, it’s that I’m starved of female interaction. Why else would my brain be hovering around this memory like a dumb, love-struck teenager? I just have to admit it to myself.

  I find Evie very attractive.

  And I haven’t had sex in a long time.

  There, that’s it. That’s the uncomfortable truth behind my distracted mind. I had a physically close encounter with an attractive girl and my muscle memory isn’t ready to let it go.

  Especially the muscle memory in certain parts of my body.

  But admitting it is the first step, and now I can move on. The last thing I need is to be distracted by something shiny at work. And the last thing Evie needs is her director getting close-call hard-ons at the slightest touch.

  Okay, being pressed on top of her wasn’t exactly a slight touch. It was more insanely intense and even thinking about it now…

  Fuck.

  Okay. That’s enough. I’m moving on.

  I pull into an empty space near the beach access and make my way down to the sand, where most of the crew are already waiting.

  “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitch.”

  “No worries,” Dee says. “Can I go over something with you?” She flicks to the next page of her script and starts circling dialogue, talking as she goes, but something has caught my attention across the shoreline. Damon, with his shirt off, being oiled up by the makeup team. Talking to Evie.

  I can’t make out what they’re saying, but the way he puffs out his bare chest makes me want to puke. It’s like he is perpetually peacocking, trying to appeal to anything with two legs and boobs.

  Oh my God, why would you bring up boobs?

  I clear my throat and force my brain to return its focus to Dee.

  But I can’t help one ear pricking up, tuning in to the sound of Evie’s laughter across the sand.

  “You’ve got to be joking.”

  We’re standing at the access point for our second beach location, one that has a rocky cliff face. And we’re staring at a thick iron chain blocking our way.

  “Falling boulders, use alternate access,” Brian reads off the sign. “But we can’t get the equipment down the other access point. You have to climb over rocks.”

  “Thank you, captain of the fucking obviou—”

  “We know that, Brian,” Dee cuts me off.

  “How did this h
appen?” I spin around until I can find the location scout hiding at the back of the group. “You literally had one job??”

  “It wasn’t closed off when I scouted it a few weeks ago,” he says, quivering in the October sun.

  “And you didn’t think to check it, I don’t know, before we got here?”

  “It’s going to be okay,” Evie says, stepping tentatively through the group. “We’ll just look for a bigger access point further up the path. One we can get the camera down. Won’t we?” She looks at Brian and the scout, who nod obediently.

  I let her pacify me, mainly because I want the others out of my face. I wave them away and sit down on the wooden fence, watching as Evie bounces after them, her signature hair ropes swinging behind her.

  “What do you think about Evie?” I say to Dee as she perches beside me.

  “What do I think of her?”

  “Yeah, like… as a fellow woman.”

  “You mean, as the enigmatic species that is the human female, what’s my opinion of her?” Dee smirks at me.

  “You know what I mean,” I sigh.

  She pinches her shoulders upward. “I think… she’s great.”

  I pick some leaves off a nearby shrub as she elaborates.

  “She’s crazy, but not put your rabbit on the stove crazy. She doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks about her. Yet she’s very considerate and sweet. And those two things rarely go hand in hand.”

  I frown at her to prompt an explanation.

  “Most people I know who care a lot about other people’s feelings often care too much what people think of them. And the people who don’t give a shit about the opinions of others tend to not give a shit about anyone,” she finishes, taking a sip from her bottled water. “You know, kind of like you.”

  “Well that’s a bit of a drive by. I’m not that bad!”

  She just laughs. “You know I love you, but you don’t have time for most people. Evie cares about everyone, big and small. She rescued a beetle from being squashed on the path on the way over here.”

  I laugh out my nose. “That checks out.”

  “She’s pretty much sunshine in human form. It rubs off on people.”

  A pause.

  “You’ve been way less of a jerk since she’s been around,” Dee continues.

  “Pardon?”

  She laughs and nudges me in the ribs. “You know it’s true.”

  We fall into silence and proceed to pick leaves off the shrub and throw them onto the ground.

  “Why do you ask?” Dee finally says, raising an eyebrow at me.

  I curve my mouth downwards. “I just… can’t get a good read on her. I’m trying to figure out her game.”

  “Not everyone in LA is playing a game, you know.” She rolls her eyes. “Some people are actually genuine.”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  Our conversation is brought to an end as the group appears up the path.

  “There are no other access points,” Brian says, holding his side like he has a stitch.

  “Why are you puffing?” Dee grimaces.

  “We went all the way to the cliff!”

  “He’s right.” Evie scrunches her face, disappointed that her hopeful plan didn’t pan out. “There’s nothing.”

  Brian tries to stand up straight. “We even tried carrying the camera between us down the narrow trail before—”

  “—before you remembered that camera is worth over three times your annual salary?” I finish, horrified at the thought of that oaf hauling our expensive gear over sharp boulders.

  I groan, linking my fingers behind my head. “We’re going to have to scout a new shooting location for the cliff scene.”

  “First thing tomorrow, I will go,” the scout says.

  “Seeing as you obviously don’t know how to do your job, I’ll go.” I huff, turning to Joel. “I know a few places toward San Diego.”

  “You don’t want to go all that way on your own,” Dee jumps in.

  “That’s very nice of you, but I’m a big boy. I think I’ll be fine.”

  She narrows her eyes. “No, smart ass. I mean, you’ll need someone to help take photos, write notes, apply for permits, that sort of thing?”

  Hmm. Dee has a point. I hate that admin-type stuff.

  “Take Evie with you.” She puts her hand on Evie’s shoulder, who suddenly looks very alert.

  “Me?”

  “Evie doesn’t want to come to San Diego,” I say, because I can already tell Evie has been put on the spot.

  “Well, maybe we can hear that from her,” Dee says, raising her eyebrows and turning to my PA. “Evie, do you mind accompanying Adam to San Diego?”

  Evie looks between her and me. “Um… sure. On one condition…”

  I inhale sharply, wondering where this is going. The last thing I want to do is drag a PA along with me who doesn’t really want to be there.

  A grin spreads across her lips.

  “I get to play road trip DJ.”

  17

  Evie

  “You can’t be serious.”

  I look across at Adam innocently. “What?”

  “Journey? Really?”

  “What’s wrong with Journey?” I say, turning up the volume on his fancy car stereo. “‘Don’t Stop Believing’ is the ultimate driving track.”

  The breeze streams through the window, rippling my hair out behind the car seat. It took about twenty minutes to convince him that, no, air conditioning is not the same as natural air, and for him to let me have the window down.

  “Just a small-town girl, livin’ in a looonnely world!”

  “Jesus,” he mutters, rubbing his forehead. Though if I’m not mistaken, I swear there’s a twentieth of a smile on his lips.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll let you do the next verse.”

  “I think I’ll be okay, thanks.” He laughs. “I bet you only know about this band because of Glee.”

  I arch my eyebrow at him. “You would only know about that if you also watched Glee.”

  He has the decency to let me belt out the rest of the song, sighing as he rests his head in his palm. When it’s over, I sneak a look at him. Suddenly I’m reminded of him at the beach, looking all relaxed and happy. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other weaved through his thick brown hair. The blowing wind makes it flick around.

  What is it about guys driving with one hand that is so…

  I brush the thought out of my mind. No. I will not go there. It already took me several days to get the chandelier incident out of my head, but even that didn’t stop it coming into my dreams. Like the dream I had last night.

  My stomach flutters, like a small animal is burrowing inside there. I quickly look away.

  “So what made you want to become a director?” I ask, searching for a distraction.

  “We’re doing the getting-to-know-you car chats, are we?”

  “You have a better idea to fill the next twenty minutes?”

  He smirks. “Um… I don’t know. I went with my dad when one of his novels got picked up by a studio. I was sold on the film industry straight away. I guess somewhere along the way I decided directing suited me best.”

  “I heard about your dad… seems like an important guy.”

  Adam nods. “Yep, pretty much a household name for book lovers.”

  I chew on my lip. Dee told me how he died a few months ago. “I’m sorry to hear that he passed.”

  Adam glances at me and smiles on the side of his mouth. “Thanks.”

  I think back to being in Adam’s house, with all his dad’s books lined up on the bookshelf.

  “What’s that like, having a famous author dad?”

  “It’s okay I guess,” he says. “Got me a few extra connections in Hollywood. So I can’t complain about that.”

  “It must be intimidating.”

  Adam looks at me properly now, frowning.

  I go on. “Having a dad with such a legacy. Having all that pressure on you to l
ive up to his name. It’s big shoes to fill.”

  Adam is still frowning as his eyes flicker back to the road ahead of us. “Actually, yeah.” He nods. “It’s really intimidating.”

  I let the silence take over the car. One of those pensive, peaceful silences. We might be polar opposites, but there is something easy about being in Adam’s company. Maybe because he is so blunt—it’s easy to know where you stand with him so you’re not left wondering if he hates you or not. But as he looks out at the open space in front of us, I have to admit, I have no idea what he’s thinking now.

  My phone ringing breaks through the quiet, and again, I’m so distracted with making the noise stop that I forget to check the number.

  “Hello?”

  “You’re finally coming to see us?”

  I look at the screen and see that Mom is calling from her office phone. “Um… huh?”

  “A little notice would have been nice. But I guess we should just consider ourselves lucky that you’re coming at all.”

  “Who told you I was coming to visit?”

  “Your sister. She said you came up on her friend tracker or one of those young people things.”

  Ugh. I knew I should have hidden my location from Sarah a long time ago.

  “Right. Well, actually, I’m here for work.”

  Adam keeps turning his head in my direction, trying to decipher my phone call.

  “You would come all the way to San Diego and not visit your family?”

  “It’s not that, Mom. I’m here with the director as well.” I look at Adam wide-eyed, like he can save me from this situation somehow. He just narrows his eyes in confusion.

  “Well, bring him too. I’m making pork tenderloin.”

  I’m quiet while I search my brain for the appropriate excuse not to go. A dinner with my parents and my director seems like the exact last thing I want to do.

  “We’d love to meet your work friends. Sometimes it seems like you’re making this job up.” She gives a fluttery laugh, and I glare out the windscreen.