Scared Scriptless (5 page)

By LA standards, this doesn’t seem so bad. I’m sure there are at least twenty-five other young actresses in this room trying to catch Derek’s eye as well.

“Even if she is, a lot of people here would say she’s just networking, making harmless business connections…”

“Okay, I hear you. Let’s make a bet. If she’s just making industry connections and it all seems totally aboveboard, we’ll hit your go-to trendy hot spot and I will buy you a round of your favorite fruit-tini. If she crosses the line into inappropriate, I win and it’s whiskey at my favorite dive bar.”

Trendy hot spot? Fruit-tini? Who does Adam Devin think I am? Yet, somehow it seems harmless enough to play along. And I am oddly at ease at this party now, sipping my goofy drink next to Adam Devin, of all people, watching Lola sashaying toward the director. Craig steps into my line of sight, clearly heading in our direction. I wonder just how long I’ve been talking to Adam.

“You’re going to lose,” I say as I wave at Craig, who has stopped five feet away to say hello to another HCP exec. In the split second before Craig arrives at my side, Adam leans in and whispers in my ear.

Focusing back on Craig is harder than it should be, but luckily he’s not really paying attention anyway. “Hey, babe. Sorry about that. Let’s do a lap around the room.” Craig’s arm slips around my waist and without waiting for an answer, he is already steering me forward. His words barely register. What is still ringing in my ears is Adam’s husky voice saying,
“You’re wrong, Maddy. Either way, I win.”

I send him back the little emoticon of the scream face and then ignore his texts for a while. Yes, not everyone has birthdays color-coded in their calendars with a ten-day and five-day reminder like I do, but Matthew’s classic youngest child syndrome drives me nuts. Somehow he always thinks things are going to work out for him with zero effort. And infuriatingly enough, they usually do. I’m sure he’ll show up at our mom’s surprise party Friday with a semi-funny card from Ralph’s, and she’ll love it just as much as the top-of-the-line panini maker I bought her.

I can’t bother to be annoyed or distracted right now, though. It’s 7:42 on Monday night and I am still at work, desperately
hoping we’ll finish soon so I still have time for a run tonight. But the correlation between the number of days I intend to run after work and the number of days I actually get to do so is about 1,321 to 1—and tonight is no different. A run would be especially good right now, given how antsy I’ve been all week. I’ve been replaying Adam’s weird flirtation at the party last week. Luckily, he didn’t have any scenes to film the rest of the week, so I didn’t see him on set, but when we’re back from the Labor Day hiatus, he’ll be here. Why am I even thinking about this? And what about Craig being so strange all of last week? On the way to the HBO party, I was pretty sure we were going to proceed to the next level in our relationship, since he was definitely giving the signs. But afterward, he made some vague comments about the “pressure being on,” dropped me off at my place, and has been MIA ever since. The only time he’s reached out was to cancel the plans we’d made for Saturday night. He was really apologetic about it and we rescheduled for this Wednesday so we could see each other before I head home, but still… that’s also weird.

I heard from a PA in the offices that a lot of closed-door meetings have been going on this week. That could explain things, but I wish he wouldn’t shut me out. I know there are things that go on above my pay grade that he isn’t at liberty to discuss, but it’s awkward because I just don’t know how to handle it. On one hand, I want to be supportive, so perhaps I should text him to let him know I’m thinking about him. On the other hand, that could make him wonder what I know and if people are talking about these closed-door meetings. So I have no idea how to proceed. Gah. Reason #521 why you shouldn’t date your boss!

Maybe I should just sit back and appreciate the distraction of working late tonight. And with that thought, my phone vibrates. Janine ran out to grab us some sushi since we have at least another hour of work ahead, and I just can’t eat one more meal at Crafty.

While the crew is on a ten-minute break, I sneak away to Janine’s offices in postproduction. I see she’s knee-deep in organization—this team runs like an intense machine. They have to edit together the episodes from all the different camera footage we provide, mostly using the notes I have created as a guideline of what the director had in mind. As I walk in, Janine is unwrapping our takeout with one hand while typing on her iPad with the other and talking with the phone tucked between her shoulder and ear—multitasking at its finest. I turn my back to her so she knows I’m not trying to rush her. I casually review the notes she has written with huge multicolored pens on the whiteboard that makes up one whole wall of her office.

The first thing I notice is the scheduled dates she has circled with huge red arrows pointing at them. I follow her scribbling to see that the editing team has an incredibly tight set of deadlines for getting initial cuts of the episodes to Hogan.

“My backup plan is to quit and retire to a little casita in Mexico.” Janine’s comment is such a non sequitur to her phone conversation. I turn back around and realize she’s actually talking to me now.

“Why do you have such a quick turnaround?”

“Hogan had a big meeting with the post team before production started. He felt that the network took so long giving notes on the episodes that we didn’t have enough time to incorporate their changes as well as
his
changes to their changes.” We both smirk. Basically, Hogan is a control freak. He wants to edit according to what the network wants, then have enough time to show them why he was right and still be able to go back and fix it as he wants it before it airs. I don’t blame him; after all, it’s his show. But since they moved up the premiere date for the new season, it just adds to the pressure the editors feel to get the episodes cut (edited) and in Hogan’s hands ASAP, if not sooner.

“Craig’s going to have a conniption about all the overtime that’s going to require for my team.” Janine dips her spicy tuna roll into the ponzu sauce.

“He’ll make it work. I’m sure Craig understands why Hogan wants extra time with the episodes. And if it helps, you can tell him that the earlier we get notes about added scenes or pickups, the easier it is for us to squeeze into the current production schedule. So that will save money.”

I have had to resign myself to it: no matter how meticulous we are (I am) during filming, there are always going to be scenes or little parts of scenes that we have to go back and film again. Sometimes it’s as frustratingly unavoidable as a glitch in the camera or the digital file it was saved on, and the editors discover that some of the material is just unusable. I hate when it’s a creative choice or something we could have avoided through better preproduction planning.

“Oh, God, remember episode four? Hogan decided weeks later that he hated that guy’s wardrobe in the South American sequence and wanted a complete reshoot. You and Frank spent hours figuring out the least expensive way to add three days of filming to the production schedule before cooler heads prevailed.”

“It wasn’t cooler heads.” I put up a hand so I can swallow my bite of shrimp before continuing. “Hogan would have done it. You saved the day by selling him the idea of focusing on the other camera angle, and Craig talked him into being okay with the close-up shots so that you never really saw what the guy was wearing.”

“What who was wearing?” I turn around to see Billy in the doorway, loaded down with DVDs.

“You’re going to watch dailies at”—I check my watch—“nine-thirty?” I know I shouldn’t be surprised by Billy’s work ethic at this point, but, well, I am.

“Yes, Maddy, that’s what directors do. They sit up all night
and obsess over the dailies.” He smiles. “You think actors are bad about obsessing over our performances… I plan to apply that same level of neurosis in my first time as director. Isn’t that what you called me once, neurotic? Oh, and narcissistic.”

“Ouch!” Janine says.

I blush with embarrassment, thinking back to the days before Billy and I were friends. He had caught me in the middle of an inappropriate rant about him and another actor, after they had a hissy fit about how loud the crew was during their rehearsal. In retrospect, he was obviously stressed out that day and tense about his performance. And the crew was talking a lot since the director had made some big changes. Even Frank apologized to Billy about it afterward. I definitely got the diva vibe from him that day and didn’t hesitate to say it. Obviously, we got past it. He was professional enough to know he overreacted and cool enough to call me on my crap and then let it go. I’m glad it happened, honestly, because I don’t think we’d have as good a relationship now if it hadn’t. But it’s still embarrassing.

“I would say ‘I’m sorry’ again, but you threatened to never say a line of dialogue as written if I apologized one more time. So for your own professional reputation, Billy, I’ll refrain.”

“It was the only threat that I knew would work. ‘I hate ad-libbing’ is going to be your epitaph, Maddy.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I take the teasing about my obsessively by-the-book reputation in stride because I’m used to it, and because I kind of like it. As far as obsessions go, I’d say it’s a pretty healthy one.

“Speaking of us neurotic actors… guess who was asking about you last night? Adam!” He says his name with a goofy smile, before I can even begin to guess. Not that I would have gotten that one right, in a million years.

“What do you mean, he was asking about me?”

“We met up to shoot some pool over the weekend, and I believe his exact words were ‘so what’s Maddy’s deal?’ He must’ve learned that smooth talk on the soap,” Billy snickers. I am too uncomfortable, not to mention caught off guard, to begin to formulate a reply. Oblivious, he continues. “He said he talked to you at the HBO thing and you seemed cool.” He does an exaggerated impression of Adam’s tough Brooklyn accent.

Cool?
Ha, cool is the last thing I feel. Especially at this moment.

“Well… so what did you tell him?”

Billy raises his eyebrow and looks pointedly at Janine, who goes back to shuffling cards around on her desk like she’s at a blackjack table.

“Oh, she knows…,” I tell him, reading from his look that he’s wondering if Janine knows about Craig and me. I finally confessed all to her on our hike over the weekend, mainly because I needed her to help parse out his message canceling on me. “But no one else does, so let’s keep it that way. Okay?”

“No problem,” Janine agrees quickly before saying, “But I gotta say, did not see that coming. Craig and Maddy. I mean, I would never have called it…”

“What? He’s nice.” I am a little taken aback that Janine and Billy both seem so shocked by the idea of Craig and I dating.

“Oh yeah, totally. You guys seem so different, somehow. But hey, opposites attract. Isn’t that what they say?” Janine fills in quickly.

“I was actually feeling like we had a lot in common. We both—”

“Okay, well not to interrupt the girl talk here,” Billy pipes in. “But I told Adam I thought you were seeing someone. Know what he said?”

“I have no idea, Billy. This is all very ninth grade,” I say, with my best above-it-all huff.

“Well, for the record, he said ‘too bad.’ I’m not saying you should date him. I’m just saying… well, you’ve got a lot of options out there. That’s all.” Does Billy have a problem with Craig? Is that what I’m reading between the lines?

I get a little defensive on Craig’s behalf. “Adam’s an actor. On this show. He dates supermodels. And did I mention he’s an actor? And I have a ru—” The word “rule” is still forming on my lips when Janine and Billy recite like grade-school students, in unison, “No actors!”

“Oh my God, you guys are the worst. New topic,” I say, eager to get off the subject of my romantic life, which frankly has never been something to inspire more than three minutes of discussion.

“Fine,” Billy concedes, much to my relief. “What are you guys doing this weekend?”

“I’m heading out to Burning Man,” Janine announces.

“What?” Now it’s Billy’s and my turn to speak in unison. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that Janine’s free spirit and self-expression would be drawn to an event like Burning Man. From what I’ve heard, it’s like Woodstock, without the bands. It makes sense that Janine, one of those rare homegrown Hollywood people, would be drawn to this mecca celebrating the individual within a communal environment. Most people in this business came from somewhere else to pursue the Hollywood dream. But Janine has the unique confidence that you get only from being born into the business; her parents are world-class editors who have worked on some of the biggest features with incredible directors. She was probably taught to speak Avid before English.

“What? Don’t look so surprised. Burning Man is an experience. I’m going to be off the grid for three days.” She sighs with pure bliss. “Being one with nature and art… not to mention hot, artsy guys,” she adds with a laugh.

Billy and I exchange a skeptical look. Janine going to Burning Man is like me standing in line to go to a Vince Camuto sample sale. But then that’s why I love her—just when you think she’s going to zig, she zags.

“That’s hard-core, Janine. And I thought she was the granola one,” Billy says, pointing at me.

“Well, I
will
be wearing fleece this weekend…,” I say.

“Off home to the mountains?”

“Yep.” I’m unable to hide my smile. “We’re having a big surprise party for my mom’s sixtieth birthday. She has no idea I’m coming up. I told her I had to work.”

“So you’re off the grid too. Should I not even bother texting you? Are you going to come back with hairy pits, smelling of patchouli?” Billy teases.

“Ha-ha, smarty pants. I do plan to shower while I’m home. It’s going to be heaven. Hikes, hanging out by the lake. I’m going mountain biking with my brother.”

“Sounds like a nonstop workout.” Janine groans. “No thanks, the toughest thing I’m going to be doing is figuring out where to put my next henna tattoo.”

“I can just picture it—all weekend we’re going to see Maddy’s Facebook posts: ‘Hiking. nine a.m.’ with some postcard-perfect Instagram updates every five minutes.” Ever since his publicist made him get on social media, Billy has been obsessed. “Meanwhile, I’ll be here, with these,” he says, gathering up the stacks of DVDs he left on the table. “Have fun, ladies.”

“He really is so hot,” Janine says with a sigh as soon as Billy is out of earshot.

“Watch who you say that to, or this week’s love of his life will scratch your eyes out.” I start grabbing up the rest of my sushi. “Okay, I have to get back to work. And I know you don’t need any more distractions. Thanks for dinner—next time I’m buying.”

Just as I’m settled back in my chair on set, ready to polish off the rest of my tuna roll, my phone buzzes. Must be Matthew again, bugging me about Mom’s gift. I wipe off my fingers to reply to his text, grinning already that I’ve got him begging. Matthew’s weakness is he hates being ignored. Instead it’s a message from a number I don’t recognize.