The Last Take

by Tabitha Bree

  Damon’s chest rises indignantly. “You want to come a little closer and say that?”

  “Whoa, whoa, let’s take it down a notch,” I say, stepping between them. “There’s no need to get worked up. And if you need to have it out with each other, I say dance battle.” I do the beginning steps of a break dance move, which earns me nothing in the response department. Out of the corner of my eye I see a makeup assistant pull out her phone and point it toward us. I take that as my cue to step away. The last thing I need is to go viral in some scandalous backstage testosterone scuffle before my career even gets started.

  “Don’t you know who I am?” Damon booms.

  “Yes. You’re a pain in my ass!” Adam yells back.

  “I’m the only reason people will watch this pathetic film! You think you’re some great director? You are not what the audience is interested in. It’s me! Do you know how many followers I have on TikTok??”

  “None with any brain cells,” Adam retorts. “Now get back to your position and do your fucking job.”

  “You can’t speak to me like that! I’m Damon fucking Reeves. I’m the reason you have a job! People actually want to be me. Can you say the same? Can any of you say the same?” He turns to address the entire crew. “I see you whispering. You’re all just fucking jealous!”

  Wow.

  Adam has really poked the sleeping bear.

  “My career is just getting started and there’s nothing but bright lights ahead for me, baby. I’m a fucking star! I don’t need this shit. Especially from you!” He points a finger at Adam. “Let’s see how your film does without its leading man.”

  He fumbles with the cables attached to his harness, trying to set himself free. “Can somebody get me out of this thing?!”

  The stunt assistant comes over and unclips him in one effortless motion. Damon kicks off the harness, followed by the boots, but they get caught on the balls of his feet. He loses his stepping and falls over, growling like an angry little Labrador. “Mother fucker!”

  When he is finally free of his boots and harness, he throws them across the room and stands triumphantly, before setting off towards the stage door and disappearing through it with a loud bang.

  It’s a lot.

  “What did you do that for??” Dee hisses, marching over to Adam as the sound stage breaks out in whispering and the odd giggle.

  “Do what?”

  “Set him off like that! You do realize we need him for the rest of the film?”

  “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. He was being impossible!”

  “Damon has always been a diva. Why are you deciding to go all caveman on him now?”

  Adam opens his mouth to respond and his eyes dart to mine before he just shrugs. “I guess I’ve had enough.”

  “We’ve all had enough. But we don’t just go pissing off our lead actor a couple weeks from wrapping.”

  Adam drags his palm down the surface of his face. “I knew he was a mistake for the lead. We should’ve got Grant Bradley,” he mumbles. “He’s a professional.”

  “Maybe I should go talk to Damon?” I suggest meekly. I can’t help feeling responsible somehow. I was part of the reason he wasn’t getting into his starting position.

  “No, I’ll go,” Adam says.

  “No, Evie will go.” Dee puts her foot down. “You will only make him angrier. Evie will calm him down, won’t you?” She looks at me with genuine concern in her eyes. This film is important to Dee, too.

  “I won’t let you down.”

  As I turn to leave, I just catch the strained expression on Adam’s face.

  “Damon?” I knock lightly on his trailer door.

  “Go away.”

  Suddenly I’m brought back to the start of production, the last time I was standing at this door. About to get duped by Kylie.

  It’s crazy how much has happened since then.

  “It’s Evie, can I come in?”

  An audible groan passes through the door that suggests he doesn’t want me to come in, but I open it anyway. He’s sitting in a chair, aggressively typing on his phone.

  “I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

  I’m not usually the lying type. But I have a feeling ‘I just wanted to coax you back onto set so we can all get on with our jobs’ won’t be as effective.

  “Did you hear the way he spoke to me?” Damon says, looking up.

  “Yes.”

  We all heard it. And to be honest, I’m still trying to digest it. Adam was right. He didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. But I still don’t know why he got so mad so quickly. Damon is a lot to handle, sure. But why the colossal blow up now?

  “Everyone treats me like an idiot, and I’m tired of it,” he says, throwing his phone on the table. “Do you think he would speak to Ryan Reynolds that way?”

  To be fair, I don’t see Ryan Reynolds carrying on the way Damon does. But that’s another thing I choose not to be honest about. Instead I go with, “you’re under a lot of pressure.”

  “Damn straight I am. And no one else gets it. I’m the main character. Everyone is counting on me getting it right. And I don’t need some washed up director getting in my face when I’m trying to work on my craft.”

  A weird pang jolts through my stomach as he insults Adam. I chew on my lip to keep my expression sympathetic.

  “I’m sure he’ll be apologetic if you just come back to set.”

  Adam is absolutely not going to be apologetic.

  “Let’s just take a big breath and go back. What do you say?”

  “I’m not going back in there.” He glowers.

  Okay, so I need a different approach. Maybe he just wants to be coddled? I could do that. I cross the trailer and sit in the chair opposite him.

  “I don’t even know how you’ve made it through the film this far. Coming here day in, day out? You must be exhausted.”

  “It’s been a lot,” he says, ruffling his hair. “This is my first role where it’s just me and a few creature performers. Not many people to bounce off.”

  “And you’ve been handling it so well. Like a pro.”

  If you discount the endless complaining, the tardiness, the inappropriate comments to members of the crew…

  “Well… it’s nice someone finally noticed,” he says, half defiantly, half softening.

  So he does want to be coddled…

  “I don’t know how you actors do it,” I go on. “Me? I just have to hand out tape and water and pick up the trash. But to show up and perform every day?” I smile, shaking my head. “It’s impressive.”

  The side of his mouth curls up, so I keep going.

  “You’ve had a grueling schedule the last few months, and I think you need to just give yourself a pat on the back.”

  He’s nodding now.

  “And remind yourself there’s less than two weeks to go.”

  At this, he stops nodding. “No. I don’t think I can go back in there. I don’t think I can tolerate being treated like that a day longer.”

  Ugh.

  I lean forward and put my hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re underestimating yourself. You’re Damon Reeves. You’re a superstar. And look where you are, you made it to Hollywood! If you can do that, you can do anything.”

  He frowns for a second, and then as if something is dawning on him, his mouth spreads out in a smirk.

  “You know what, Evie?”

  He takes the hand I had on his shoulder and places it in his own.

  “You’re something else.”

  “No, you’re something else. Which is why I know that you’re going to go back in there and kill it. It’s just a few more days, really. You’ve got this in the bag.”

  His demeanor has changed now. His skin color has cooled down from the beet red, and his shoulders are no longer bunched up around his ears. I don’t want to praise myself too quickly, but I think I’ve totally turned him around.

  I give his hand a squeeze and sit back to rele
ase myself, but his grasp is firm. His eyes are fixed on mine, and it’s a look I’ve definitely seen before. The one he gives Emma when they’re shooting a love scene—soulful and intense.

  Uh oh.

  There’s something bewitching about being on the receiving end of it. Like a sunset, or Jafar’s snake staff from Aladdin. I can’t look away, but at the same time, I’m deeply uncomfortable with the direction this has taken.

  His hand comes up to the side of my jaw and I’m like a wild duck caught with a hunter—thinking that maybe if I stay really, really still, he will disappear.

  But he isn’t going anywhere. In fact, he’s leaning so close that his fancy man perfume is invading my nostrils, and his face is going out of focus.

  His lips connect with mine, and it all happens so fast I can barely think straight, let alone react.

  A – a very attractive Hollywood film star is kissing me.

  B – I have no interest in this Hollywood film star who is kissing me, and

  C – someone is standing in the doorway.

  Adam.

  I push against Damon’s chest, but I know it’s too late.

  Adam doesn’t speak a word, but then again, he doesn’t have to. His expression says everything. His eyes are dark and intense, and his mouth is in a straight line. But there’s also something vulnerable about his appearance—a slight shudder in the way he draws in breath.

  “We were just coming back in,” I say, standing up. Our eyes meet and I try to hold his gaze; make him stop thinking all the things he’s thinking. But his stare is cold.

  He drops his eyes to the floor and shakes his head.

  Damon goes to walk past, but Adam stops him with his hand. “I don’t want any more of your shit on my set for the rest of the shoot, got it?”

  Damon’s eyes turn wild. “My shit?”

  “Yeah, your shit.”

  They stare each other down before Damon laughs bitterly.

  “I don’t have to deal with this.” He grabs his jacket and car keys from the counter. “I’m out of here.”

  And just like that, Damon is marching towards his Porsche, leaving Adam and I alone in his trailer.

  28

  Adam

  I want to rewind to before this day. To when my only grievance was waiting a lousy two weeks to have a shot with the girl I like.

  With the girl I love.

  Because if I didn’t know it before, I know it now. My feelings for Evie aren’t fleeting or shallow. I love her. Which is made all the clearer by the sinking, twisting feeling in my stomach at the sight of her lips on another man.

  On Damon fucking Reeves.

  Watching him leave was satisfying. On a professional level, I should be freaking out. But the only thing I want right now is to never see his arrogant face again. I hear the engine if his Porsche come to life; the only sound that can be heard in the motionless innards of his trailer where me and Evie stand. Unmoving. Unspeaking.

  “Adam… I know you’re weirded out right now. But it wasn’t what it looked like.”

  “It looked like you were kissing.”

  “I know.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think she was blushing. “But that’s not how it was.”

  “How was it then?” I ask, shrugging. “Were you choking on something? Was this a mouth-to-mouth situation I wasn’t aware of?”

  She frowns. “He kissed me.”

  “Ahh, of course.”

  “He did.” Her tone is sharper now.

  “And you tried to ward him off, obviously.”

  She flinches at my sarcasm, but I can’t imagine how she’s acting hard done by in this scenario. For weeks she’s trailed me along, dangling the potential for us in front of me like a carrot, claiming her only hesitation came from not wanting to get involved with someone from the set. And then she does this.

  Making out with the lead fucking actor?

  I should have known. This is my own stupid fault, really. How could I have thought a girl like Evie Miller would still be interested in me when she had the option of some hunky douchebag? Same LA story, different version. People in this city claim to be more, to want more. But at the end of the day, they are only interested in one thing. Appearances. Having the best of the best and showing it off to the world, like it even matters. No one is sincere or deep. When it comes down to the punch, girls around here want the Damon Reeves of the world. And guys like me get cast aside—left to watch at the door like a fucking moron.

  I turn to leave, but Evie stops me.

  “You can’t go. We have to talk about this.”

  “What’s there to talk about?” I face her. “Damon made a pass at you, and you just let it happen. I’m sure it was awful, by the way.”

  Her eyes fall to the floor.

  “And by the sound of it, this wasn’t the first time you’ve been in his trailer, alone.”

  “Excuse me?” Her eyes shoot to mine.

  “Earlier, he said ‘come by my trailer again’. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist.”

  “You’ve got to be joking.” She’s smiling, but not her usual bubbly smile that brings out her freckles. This one is acidic, and it’s honed right at me. “The last time I was here was when I was sent to fly him to set. I’m a PA for God’s sake, I’ve been everywhere on this fricking lot.”

  I huff out my nostrils. Even if that’s true, it doesn’t change what I saw here tonight.

  “Is that what you really think of me? That I’m some shallow idiot lusting after movie stars?”

  “You were kissing!”

  “He kissed me! I was trying to sweet talk him to come back to set, and he got the wrong idea. I didn’t want to make him more upset!”

  “Jesus, Evie. There’s nice, and then there’s too fucking nice. You didn’t need to let him maul you because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

  “And you didn’t need to chase him off set. Why are you acting like a Neanderthal? You do realize we’re all up the creek without a paddle without him. Did you think of that before you lost your head?”

  I almost have to stop myself from smiling. Even in a scenario when ‘we’re all fucked’ is the appropriate response, Evie finds a sugary sweet way to describe it. The only time I’ve heard her curse was that night… in bed together…

  But I can’t let myself think of that. The memory is tainted now that we’re here.

  “I don’t have to put up with his shit,” I say. “Why does everyone feel like they have to appease that idiot? This is my film!”

  “Actually, you’re wrong. This is all of our film. And now we don’t have one to finish, because of you. What made you so angry?”

  “Well seeing the girl I like tongue tied with an obnoxious asshole for a start.”

  “For the last time, it wasn’t like that!”

  “Maybe you were right about what people will think. Maybe you are just trying to hitch your wagon to the best horse. It just turned out you had a better option.”

  Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. I can tell by the strain in her eyes I’ve hit a nerve, and probably one I shouldn’t have. But I can’t stomach what’s gone on here. Evie has confirmed all my worst fears about people in this fake, sorry excuse for a city. She is the one person I thought was above all that stuff; all the status and money. I thought she was real. But when it came down to it, she was just as susceptible to the flashy lights as anyone else.

  And it’s a good thing I’ve come to this realization, because it looks like I’ve lost her anyway.

  “I think we’re done here,” she says, her voice just above a whisper.

  She pushes past me and disappears into the darkness of the studio lot.

  As I open my bleary eyes the next morning, reality hits me like a truck. It feels unnatural, lying in my bed after nine, when I would’ve normally been on set for three hours.

  I texted Joel from Damon’s trailer and told him to wrap the crew for the night. I didn’t have the energy to
go back into the sound stage and face everyone, so I snuck off to my car and drove away.

  I’m still seething about Damon—his stupid face made appearances in my dreams all night. But deep down, I know I’ve let the team down by pissing him off. At least they made it through most of production with a paycheck though.

  So far, I’ve successfully dodged calls from Dee, Eric and Simon, but I knew my luck could only last so long. Which is why I reluctantly agreed to a meeting with Eric and Simon when their tenth email came through.

  Dee, I will face later.

  I throw on a t-shirt and shorts and make my way to the coffee shop near my house. It’s the only one I agreed to meet them at because it’s close, and it also means I don’t have to pass Bob. He would know straight away that something is up, and I don’t want to talk about it. The ‘it’ being the fact lurking in the back of my mind.

  There will never be a me and Evie.

  I sat with the idea all night, tossing and turning. A couple of times I thought about texting her, checking in to apologize for what I’d said. But then the image would flood my brain again. Her lips. On Damon’s.

  She was so fast to shut down anything between us at the fear of getting caught, but then she happily let him be all over her like that? It didn’t make sense to me. Which left me with one obvious conclusion.

  Evie isn’t the girl I thought she was.

  I walk through the doorway and Eric and Simon are already sitting at a round table, with looks on their faces as dark as their espressos.

  “Well, the shit has hit the fan,” Eric says by way of a greeting. I sit down in my chair, exhaling. “You have to go talk to Damon.”

  “I’m not doing that,” I say, pointing to Eric’s cup of coffee when the server comes by.

  “You have to,” Simon exclaims. “We have no film otherwise.”

  I press my lips together. I do feel bad for him. Many scripts never make it to production, and his is so close to being actualized on screen. But I have to stand by my code.

  Don’t let assholes walk all over you.

  “Damon is out,” I say. “He made that clear last night. If he’s going to throw a tantrum and leave, that is a problem for his manager, not me.”