Fade To Black

by Nolon King

  “No one is accusing you of anything,” Walter corrected. “We just have a few questions.”

  Lisa said, “Specifically, I’m not sure a director is supposed to be needling their actors about every tiny inflection.”

  “I assume you’re referring to Cassidy’s accent?”

  “No.” Walter shook his head. “She’s referring to the ten-thousand takes she had to go through before it was good enough.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Cavalli.” She wasn’t. “From what I understand, the first take revealed your daughter’s accent. And no disrespect intended, but from this side of the desk, that seems an awful lot like her failure to deliver what was promised as an actress.”

  “Now you just wait a minute—”

  “No. You wait one moment, Mr. Cavalli—” Melinda raised her hand, palm out, waiting for him to back down. “You’ve been in this business a long time already, despite your daughter’s youth. I’m confident you understand it’s a director’s job to encourage the best performance he or she can out of an actor. That includes reshoots. And in this particular instance, I believe those reshoots came after a bit of extra coaching.”

  Neither Cavalli responded.

  “Serious question then,” Melinda continued into their silence. “What should Sloane have done? Should she have pretended not to hear Cassidy’s accent? Should the project have suffered in favor of protecting her feelings?”

  Cassidy’s parents sat across from her, quietly staring, surely wondering where exactly this whole thing had gone off the rails. This obviously wasn’t what they’d expected. Whoever had put the pair of them up to this — and there was zero doubt in Melinda’s mind that the Cavallis didn’t get here on their own — didn’t prepare them for the realities of their accusations. She would listen, and make them feel heard, but ultimately Melinda wasn’t about to roll over for anyone. Especially not a matching set of superficial show parents like the Cavallis.

  “We understand that Sloane is trying to make the best movie possible,” Walter started.

  “Which is why we signed up for the project,” Lisa added.

  “It’s just that there are certain rules all productions are supposed to follow—”

  “And we’re concerned West Hollywood Sunset might be breaking some of those rules.”

  “You mean Flamingo Summer,” Melinda corrected them.

  They traded a glance, then Lisa said, “Of course, Flamingo Summer. But we all know the real name, right? Shouldn’t we be using the real name?”

  She looked at Melinda, waiting for her answer.

  But Melinda held her tongue, staring back at them both, wanting the pair to squirm in the silence. It was an unwavering truth that she had consistently used to get her way in life. Given enough rope, people in the wrong would never fail to hang themselves. Melinda just needed to keep them talking. Eventually, they would say the wrong thing and provide her with the perfect onramp to redirect the conversation and squeeze them right out of it.

  Walter picked up the ball. “We only want to talk about the rules. That’s all.”

  “We have a production where the lead actor is a minor. Believe me, Mr. Cavalli, Shellter Productions is extremely concerned about the rules. Which of them do you feel we are breaking?”

  He looked so unsure. Probably at least in part because he wanted to correct her again, remind Melinda that he was Walter and that his wife was Lisa, same as they’d been back in London when the Shellys were so excited about signing their daughter. But right now, she needed the Cavallis to realize that they had lost the luxury of a first-name-basis situation.

  Lisa said, “The Labor Commissioner is supposed to issue permits to minors with required documentation from the appropriate school districts, but we haven’t seen any of that yet.”

  Then, as if his wife’s complaint made a lick of sense, Walter piled on. “There are supposed to be no more than five absences during the production.”

  Melinda laughed, loud and long, trying to unseat more than insult them, but thrilled to do both since the situation apparently called for it.

  The most important part about casting a child was their talent and work ethic. But a good producer could never forget that the production was also casting that actor’s parents.

  Those parents could be a dream or they could be a nightmare for the producer. The only way to make sure that the house always won — the house in this instance being Shellter Productions — was to stay well ahead of the law.

  The only thing the Cavallis had proved so far was that they had no idea what they were talking about. Or who they were talking to.

  “So, to be clear,” Melinda said, “you have a problem with us not having supplied any documentation for Cassidy’s schooling, and you’re worried about compliance in regard to missing days, is that correct?”

  “For starters.” Walter gave her an emphatic nod, just seconds ahead of seriously regretting it.

  “And it hasn’t occurred to you that it’s summer, and that Cassidy isn’t in school right now?”

  The Cavallis traded another glance.

  “Even if she was in school, she’s here on a visa for the summer, and compliance for her schooling is on the two of you, not us.” Melinda leaned forward. “Would you like to know why you missed something so obvious? Why even though your protest doesn’t make sense, you still felt like barging into my office to complain?”

  Neither Cavalli answered, but they both clearly knew.

  “It’s clear that you have both been coached on what to say. You’re not here because you thought something was wrong, you’re here because someone specifically told you that there was.”

  “You don’t know that.” Lisa couldn’t even get the sentence out without breaking at the end. The word that left her mouth with an extra syllable.

  “Everything you’ve been told was either a lie or a misdirect,” Melinda said.

  “How do you know what we’ve been told?” Walter asked, arms crossed and defenses up.

  “You’ve both told me plenty.” Melinda indulged in another laugh before leaning back in her seat. “Do you know why Shellter Productions has been growing faster than any other studio for the last five years when measured on a per-project basis?”

  She didn’t wait for the answer, knowing that neither of the Cavallis was bold enough to open their mouths right now, despite their earlier bluster. “Because Dominic and I are excellent at what we do. That means having a firm grasp of details such as budgeting and scheduling, plus a firm grip on reality. But when it comes to working with minors, it also means a familiarity with the laws around child labor. So let me ask you, Mr. and Mrs. Cavalli, who do you think is more fluid in those rules and regulations — me or you?”

  Still no answer from either of them, but Walter’s animosity was now bleeding out of his pores.

  Melinda continued. “History hasn’t always been kind to child actors. Over time, laws have been built to protect children from mistreatment. As a result, some of these laws seem especially strict, complex, or perhaps even exhaustive. But it is all necessary. Am I correct in assuming that as parents of a child in the business, you have at least a cursory understanding of this?”

  A pair of begrudging nods.

  “So does whoever sent you in here. But they have no idea what’s actually happening on set, so they provided you with weak yet universal arguments. Accusations to start a paper trail. That’s all this is.”

  The Cavallis were shifting in their respective seats.

  Melinda rounded the final base then brought her argument home. “Do you know how I can feel especially certain that Cassidy’s needs are taken care of in this production?”

  “How?” Lisa asked, loosening up more than her husband.

  “Because Sloane Alexander is your director. I’m sure you know what that means, but since you failed to consider it before coming into my office today, I feel the need to offer a reminder. Thanks to her history in Hollywood, Sloane is deeply invested in following the rule
s. If anything, Cassidy is being treated better by her director than most child actors could ever hope for. Your daughter is being given more leeway, more care, and more opportunities to succeed by someone who sought her out specifically because she appreciated Cassidy’s talent and will go to great lengths to preserve her innocence. So, would you care to amend anything we’ve discussed this morning?”

  “We were contacted by a lawyer,” Lisa admitted.

  “A lawyer for whom?” Melinda asked.

  “Someone auditing the production,” Walter said. “They wanted to make sure that all the SAG rules were being followed. Apparently there’ve been a few reported incidents on Shellter productions prior to this one.”

  “There have been no such reports.” Melinda shook her head. “Our record for the last several years is spotless.”

  She had no doubt the Cavallis had spoken to a real lawyer, but surely one that worked for Wentz.

  Walter still looked like he was chewing nails.

  But Lisa said, “We’re really sorry. About all—”

  “It’s fine.” Melinda cut her off, terse but smiling. “We have two choices right now. We’re still in the first week of production. Replacing Cassidy will never be easier than it is right now. Sloane will be disappointed, of course, but she won’t flinch if her producers believe it’s the best move. And right now, given our conversation this morning, that might be our strongest argument.”

  “That’s not what we want,” Lisa insisted, sounding slightly panicked.

  “Of course it’s not. We’re already invested in Cassidy and would prefer to see this through. But unfortunately, your daughter can only give us so much of her trust. The rest must come from you. Is that something I can count on?”

  “Yes.” Lisa nodded emphatically.

  “And how about you?” Melinda turned to Walter.

  “Yes,” he said, sounding defeated. “You can count on us.”

  “It is important that you’re happy,” Melinda said, about to offer what would sound to the Cavallis like a concession but was really a request. “Even if school isn’t in session, we could do a better job of making sure that Cassidy stays happy while not on the clock. We’ll increase her overall play time.”

  Walter brightened. “We would appreciate that.”

  Melinda stood and started walking toward her office door.

  The Cavallis followed a beat behind her.

  She held the door open.

  Lisa stepped through the threshold behind her husband but turned back on the other side. “I’m sorry about all of this. We do trust you and Dominic and Sloane … thank you for everything.”

  “I understand. You were only looking out for your daughter’s best interests.”

  Lisa gave her another appreciative smile, then Melinda closed the door.

  She sat back at her desk and dialed Dominic.

  “Did you finish putting them in their place?” he asked instead of saying hello.

  “They won’t be a problem.”

  “And Cassidy’s weight?” Dominic asked.

  “Andre has her on protein and no carbs. I told the Cavallis that we’d give her an extra hour of play time each day. We’ll make sure she uses it to run around. Between those two things, the weight should stay off, and we can avoid the awkward body-image talk. Which is good, because I’m not sure Lisa would be able to handle it well.” She took a breath. “How are things there?”

  “You’re not going to want to hear this, love. But Sloane is—”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sloane

  Sick.

  That’s what she was — viciously, brutally sick.

  Sloane had been telling herself that it was just nerves ever since she woke up this morning, but she’d flushed her vomit thrice already, making that little slice of self-deception that much harder to believe.

  At least it felt like she was finally finished. Her last round was pure retching with not a drop of liquid. Her noises were humiliating, but at least it sounded like Orson had finally walked away, showing her a kindness by not lingering outside the bathroom door.

  Sloane was the director. That meant being the leader and keeping everything under control.

  But she had failed. Her production lived in the shadows of an ever-present threat, and all because of her. She was the reason for the film, and for its unending parade of frustrations.

  She stood and flushed a final time, even though there was only water in the bowl. She left the stall and went to the sink, inhaling deeply on her way, preferring the antiseptic scent of the bathroom to the sour reek that had colonized her nostrils.

  She washed her hands and face, determined not to look in the mirror.

  But after drying off, Sloane couldn’t help herself. She wanted, maybe even needed, to see the damage. So she returned to the mirror and stared at her reflection. Her hair seemed too thin, the circles under her eyes looked dark enough to be a special effect, and her normally pale skin looked dressed in flour. A week ago she was thirty-two and looking twenty-seven. Right now, it looked like she was ready to club forty on the back of its head.

  She took a deep breath, walked to the door, then pressed her ear against the wood to see if she could hear Orson on the other side.

  She opened the door, hopeful that he wouldn’t be waiting.

  The hallway was empty. Orson was giving her space, and so was everyone else.

  Tomosino was the first crew member she saw.

  “Do you know where Miles is?” Sloane asked him.

  “Sure do.” He pointed. “He’s in Daisy’s bedroom.”

  She walked to set, still stunned that it looked hauntingly like a twelve-year-old version of her own room. The details were frighteningly similar down to the excess of cosmetics and body lotions on the dresser, the abundance of pillows on the bed, and even the Christina Aguilera poster on the wall.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  Miles was sprawled on the bed, doubled over and clutching his stomach. He sat up and looked at her. “Not at all. How about you?”

  She shook her head and sat on the copy of her childhood bed and traced her finger over the green dots on the field of pink. “Remember Barcelona? The morning after that bad octopus?”

  He nodded — who could ever forget?

  “That,” Sloane finished.

  “Me too.” Miles finished nodding then started shaking his head. “With half the production hit, I think we can rule out anything viral. This is food poisoning, for sure.”

  “It should be easy enough to track. We can ask everyone who’s sick if they ate from craft services yesterday, then ask what they ate. All three of us ate from catering because we swiped food for our little picnic, but Jolie isn’t sick. We just have to figure out what we at that she didn’t.”

  “When’s the last time you saw her? Maybe it’s just hitting her later than the rest of us.”

  “Maybe,” she pretended to agree. “But not likely. She woke up extra chipper this morning. If anything, she seems more super-powered than sick.”

  “Then it’s simple to pinpoint. We both had sandwiches, and she didn’t.”

  “Are you sure?” Sloane asked.

  “A hundred percent. She said that sandwiches are dumb and I asked why, but she didn’t have an answer. I tried to make a joke, because you know how she’ll forget her objections to just about anything once she’s laughing, but that didn’t work. I even told her a story about the Earl of Sandwich and still no dice. She had some of the fried rice, but barely. She gobbled it down then ran off to the swings.”

  “That’s right,” Sloane said, mostly to herself, nodding at the memory. “What was the joke?”

  “Why? It wasn’t funny.”

  “They never are.”

  “Not true,” Miles argued.

  “Fine. They rarely are. So, what was the joke?”

  “I asked her if she was sure she didn’t want a sandwich, seeing as they were part of the luxury lunch set. She asked what made the sandwiche
s fancy, and I told her they were ‘pure breads.’ Like I said, not funny. She rolled her eyes and went for the rice.”

  “Where was I during your little standup set?”

  “Organizing the food on our blanket.”

  Sloane sighed, appreciative for her little conversational diversion with Miles, but knowing it was time to make the hard decision. “So, we shut down for the day again.”

  “I’m not sure we have another choice.” He clutched his stomach. Involuntary or not it, punctuated his point.

  “Can you find Lila and tell her to send everyone home? I’m going to find Dominic.”

  “Sure thing.” He rolled onto his back, still clutching his stomach. “I just need another minute or two.”

  She left Miles to his misery then walked the set until she found Dominic a few minutes later, pacing in the distance and barking at someone on the phone.

  He ended the call as she approached, turning to Sloane with a shift in his posture and warmth in his smile. “That was Spectacular Palate.”

  If Dominic was talking to the catering company, then he clearly already knew about the source of their latest disaster.

  “What did they say?” she asked.

  Dominic didn’t answer. “We’re paying the kill fee and cancelling the contract.”

  “What did they say?” Sloane repeated her question.

  “It doesn’t matter what they said.” He waved a dismissive hand. “We—”

  “Of course it matters!” She rarely ever talked back to Dominic, but right now Sloane didn’t feel like having her thoughts brushed aside as if they were irrelevant.

  He looked at her, seeming to sense exactly what she was feeling — a rather remarkable trait that the Shellys both shared, and appeared to be better at than anyone she had ever met.

  Dominic set a gentle hand on her arm. “I’m not saying you don’t matter, Sloane. I’m saying that we’re not going to get anywhere with whoever I talk to on the phone. It’s tipping our hand.”