Scared Scriptless (9 page)

I’m lucky enough to find a parking spot right in front of the café where I am meeting Craig, and I consider that a good omen for the day. We’re in a fancy section of Sunset, lined with high-end boutiques where you can buy sunglasses for $800 and clothes by designers whose names I can’t even pronounce. I didn’t get much sleep again last night, but I did manage to put on lip gloss and an Anthropologie dress that I loved in the store window. I’m still not comfortable in a dress, but I figure it’s like immersion therapy; maybe I’ll become immune to it after a while.

A hostess ushers me to one of the prominent tables for two on the sidewalk with a perfect people-watching view. Craig is already sitting, looking at the menu, which turns out to be a perfect reflection of LA ideals—something for everyone, from Irish oatmeal, the sporty breakfast, to decadent-looking French toast (served with agave, so you can give the appropriate appearance of being health-conscious), to a wide variety of egg-white omelets and spelt toast for people who take their healthy eating very seriously. I order the egg sandwich because I’m in the none-of-the-above category.

While Craig orders his Greek yogurt with fresh cut (organic) fruit and granola (on the side), I check out his casual sweats and brand-new trendy sneakers, the type that will never actually see the inside of his gym. He’s wearing a T-shirt Hogan gave to the crew as a wrap gift on his last big hit show,
The Warriors
.

The server heads off to place our orders as Craig puts his phone on silent and sets it screen side down on the table. “So, are you exhausted from last night?”

“It was definitely draining. That special camera operator we brought in to do the handheld work got quite a workout. I felt bad seeing him drenched in sweat the whole night.”

“They’re sending dailies to us today. Hogan and I are going to take a look later this morning. I can’t wait to see what it looks like. McCourt seemed really excited.”

I think about their chat during dinner last night. Whatever Craig said to McCourt really worked. We got through the last two scenes much faster than we had been moving all day.

“I talked to Adam last night and he’s coming back today.”

“Thanks, Maddy. That’s a relief. We need to get back on track.” Craig looks visibly relieved, as no doubt he and Hogan have calculated what Adam’s missing any more time will do to the bottom line.

“He’s got two really slammed days. Frank had to move all Adam’s scenes to today and tomorrow.” I wonder if Craig knows about McCourt’s next gig, and how that affected us, but I decide not to say anything.

“Well, the upside is, we were forced to think out of the box and have something even better than we might have otherwise. I think we should keep exploring other angles like this for the season.”

“I agree. It looked very cool. And I think the audience will respond to how we keep pushing the envelope, exploring new things.” I feel a tug of pride that I was the original source of inspiration for the idea.

The waiter comes over with an individual French press for each of us. I try to remember how these things work so I don’t look like a complete idiot.

When we’re alone again, Craig asks about my trip home. “Was
your family thrilled to see you? How was the party?” He seems genuinely intrigued. I have to confess, I am flattered that he is taking such an interest in my hometown, my family.

“My mom had such a good party. Essentially the whole town was there.”

I dig in my purse for my phone to show him a picture of me holding up my glass with about ten other people crowded in close. “Here’s me giving my toast.”

“Oh wow—who’s that guy? That beard is something else.” Craig zooms in on one of my parents’ close friends.

“I think I mentioned him to you before. That’s our neighbor, Walt Gordon. The one who stuffs the animals he hunts. Yeah, he takes the mountain man look very seriously.”

Craig laughs. “Right. That story about your brothers sneaking up on you with one of the stuffed bears? That guy sounds like such a character.” And he is. In the picture he’s holding up his beer mug, so you can see his gut appearing out from underneath his shirt, which says, “
GOT MEAT?
”

“Next to him is Blaine. He runs the fish and game store on Main. He can literally talk about fishing and the right tackle and bait for hours. All day. One time, Matthew lost a bet to me and Mike, and his penalty was he had to ask Blaine questions about different kinds of bait and lures and listen until Blaine was done talking. The rule was that Matthew couldn’t walk away; Blaine had to be the one to end the conversation. Matthew was in that shop from about three p.m. until it closed. It was brutal. What he didn’t know was that my older brother Mike hung out in the parking lot all afternoon, keeping any other customers from going in to distract Blaine.”

I can’t help but laugh, remembering Matthew’s misery. Craig laughs with me, still looking at the picture.

“I think there are more pictures; you can scroll forward.”

Craig flicks through and settles on one I took at the campfire.

“This looks like something out of an L.L.Bean catalogue. Is that for real?”

I had used an app on my phone to make the photo seem vintage. That picture is everything I love about Wolf County.

“Yep, it was such a great night.” I sigh, remembering. Was that only two days ago?

Craig hands me back my phone and tells me about his weekend, the speakers’ tour he attended at the Directors Guild, the networking lunch he had at the Polo Lounge, and what celebrities were there.

When the waiter arrives with the check, Craig announces sort of abruptly, “There’s something I want to talk to you about, Maddy.”

Why do those words always sound ominous? Within seconds, I have mentally scanned through a list of work things that could be an issue (the cost overruns on the set design, the fact that we haven’t secured a location for the finale shoot). Then just as quickly, I go through a list of personal reasons (he’s seeing someone else, he’s breaking up with me). God, it’s schizophrenic dating your boss. While I wait with anticipation, the waiter comes over to pick up the check and starts chatting with Craig, who is clearly a regular. Needing something to do while I wait for this talk, I rummage through my purse to pull out my wallet, knowing very well Craig would never let me pay.

“Don’t be silly,” Craig says, handing the waiter his corporate American Express card. “In fact, HCP is paying for our breakfast this morning.”

“Really?” Well, then whatever he wants to discuss is work-related. For a split second, I have a complete visual of Craig offering me a raise or a promotion. Or both…

“It’s legitimate… I can see you already planning to call the IRS on me.” Craig laughs and then pauses and takes a deep breath. “I have an idea, Maddy. A good one.”

I wait, intrigued by his enthusiasm, as the busboy takes our plates away.

Craig leans in. “As you know, things are a little dicey at HCP right now, with the staffing changes. I really want to help Hogan see the company to the next level… to expand our footprint.”

I have no idea where this is going.

“I think HCP should get into reality TV.”

I stare at him. That was not what I expected.

“Just think about it. What people want to see is reality, right now. I think it would make HCP a mint.”

As much as I am flattered if confused by why Craig is confiding in me, it occurs to me right away that I don’t think Hogan will go for it.

“Have you talked to Hogan about this? I mean, HCP doesn’t do any reality.” Since Craig still doesn’t know about my relationship with Hogan, I leave out the part where Hogan called the Kardashians the
Kartrashians
over dinner last month and gave me a hard time for watching
Housewives of OC
. I think he may have even referred to reality TV as “evil” and an “assault to the medium.”

“Leave Hogan to me. I just want to know you’re on my side,” Craig says as we make our way around the tables to the parking lot in the back. “Let’s talk about it this weekend. Okay? There’s a lot of upside to this.” He kisses me quickly on the lips when we get to the street and jogs to his car.

“Think about it, Maddy,” he says as he slides into the driver seat. How can I not? It’s all I’m thinking about as I walk back to my car. But not just reality TV in general—a very specific show. The stories I told Craig today barely scratch the surface of the uniqueness that is Wolf County, California. The town has what all the best reality shows offer: drama, great characters, a stunning backdrop, all wrapped up in one. I don’t know what Craig had in mind, but this seems like it would be a perfect project if HCP decides
to explore reality. I don’t start the engine right away. I sit staring straight through the busy Sunset traffic, seeing only what a little publicity and business could do for my parents, for everyone in Wolf. This won’t be an easy sell to them either. The people in Wolf aren’t exactly the types to crave their fifteen seconds of fame, or whatever. I try to imagine pitching my brothers and Brian the idea.

Given my parents’ situation, the economic argument is very persuasive and the timing uncanny. Could this be the saving grace Wolf needs? But I don’t want to get my hopes up, or my parents’, because a reality show about Wolf seems like a long shot for so many reasons. Or as my dad would say, “About as likely as finding a penguin in a pickle patch.”

“Anybody seen Scripty?” My ears perk up. Great, now I’m actually responding to Adam’s new nickname for me. It’s not really annoying yet, but he changes his lines too much for it to be endearing. I look up from my list of pickup shots we’re going to need to make the complicated chase scene we’re working on today. It’s a challenge since it’s very windy, making my hair and notebook pages fly around. The location managers found us this fantastic stretch of highway out near Lancaster that is doubling as our Middle East desert road. The CHP officers have shut down traffic while we are filming, but given the number of vehicles and camera angles and speed, it’s tricky to get everything right—which is why I am making note after note to track the shots we need:

1. cut-away of Lucas’s hands grabbing the gun (use Billy? Or hand double?)
   
2. wheels skidding (burning rubber) close-up
   
3. close-up of legs running, turning corners
   
4. pedestrian/bystander reactions and POV shots
   

“Over here, Adam.” I wave from my director’s chair in the makeshift outdoor tent we have set up.

Adam’s face is smeared with dirt and fake blood from our last
scene. He’s still adjusting the fake AK-47 he has strapped over his shoulder as he comes over.

“Maddy. Good. I need your help.”

“Are you going to shoot me if I don’t?” Did I really just make that lame joke?

He looks confused for a second and then looks down at his gun. “Ha-ha, well, I might take you prisoner.”

Okay, I set myself up for that one. Time to get back to business.

“Okay, really, what’s up?” I ask with not a little dread in my voice.

“When we started the fight scene with Billy yesterday morning, I was wearing this jacket and it was unbuttoned. But in all the sequences we’re shooting this morning they’re saying they want it buttoned. I told Molly it’s not going to match, but they had a set photo that showed it was buttoned. I know I remember it being unbuttoned. I was hoping you could check your notes from yesterday so that we match it properly today.”

I glance over at Molly, the head of wardrobe, who is paging through a huge notebook, which I recognize as the Costumes continuity folder. It has a ton of pictures and pages of notes keeping track of every character’s outfit in each scene. Because we shoot out of order so much, the only way to keep track of the details is to be extremely meticulous about it. So far, this wardrobe department has been pretty accurate.

“Okay, let me take a look,” I say with an internal groan, and get out my own notebook, which gives Molly’s a run in terms of size.

“What was that look?”

I should’ve known Adam is too quick to let me get away with that.

“Nothing,” I say dismissively.

“That was an eye-roll. I saw it.” He doesn’t seem offended. In
fact, he seems slightly gleeful for having caught me out. “You don’t believe me, huh?”

Well, really, it’s the look I have on my face when actors start confidently spouting off about stuff they should really butt out of. But, of course, I choose not to tell him that and instead I flip through my notes from yesterday and start examining all the pictures I took of each scene. Adam steps up next to me and leans over my shoulder to look too.

“See there,” he says right at my ear, and points to a picture of himself standing next to Billy talking to the director about the stunts they were about to do. His jacket is unbuttoned.

“Yeah, your jacket was definitely unbuttoned when we were rehearsing. But look here…” I flip the page to the photos I took of the monitors as they were actually shooting the scene. In every frame, Adam’s jacket is most definitely buttoned.

I look up at him and he is still hovering so close that I can pick up the distinct scent of his aftershave. It’s definitely aftershave, not cologne. It’s kind of musky and clean-smelling. It distracts me for a second from confronting the next awkward moment—telling Adam he’s wrong. Sometimes actors don’t take that very well. Is this that moment when I’m going to have to massage his ego? Or worse, even in the face of evidence proving he’s wrong, will he continue to insist he is right? (That happens more than you’d think.) But when I look into Adam’s face, his eyes immediately connect with mine with a chagrined smirk.

“Oops. I must still have a muddled brain from that flu. My bad. Thanks for keeping such good notes, Scripty.” He squeezes my shoulder, and I can’t even try to pretend to be annoyed or offended. Why am I such a girl around him? My stage direction should read:

Cut to: close-up on Maddy, twirling her suddenly bleached blond hair while popping bubble gum.

“That’s what I’m here for, Ahmed.” Calling him by his character’s name as he walks back to the trailers is a tiny retaliation, but his laugh as he disappears around the corner says he appreciates the effort, which makes me smile.

As soon as Adam walks off, Frank comes over and announces we’re going to break for lunch early so that the lighting team can get set up. We want to start the afternoon earlier in order to have more time to take advantage of the bright afternoon sun. I grab my usual from the catering truck and sit at the tables set up under a tent alongside the road. My phone makes no noise when it lights up, signaling an incoming call. I see that it’s Craig and answer as I swallow a big leafy bite. Multitasking at its finest.

“Hey, Craig. What’s going on?” I scoop up another forkful of salad, trying to chew silently so he can’t hear me eating while we talk. I know it’s so rude and I would love to say that I don’t normally do this, but I do. It’s always so busy, I have to seize this break to get a good meal. Otherwise I’m a wreck the rest of the day.

“Are you on set?”

“No, we just broke for lunch.”

“Oh, great. How’d the morning go?” he asks, all business.

“Good. I was just saying to Frank, I think this chase sequence is going to cut together well. It’s really intense, even just the pieces we’re doing. I think it’s going to look awesome.”

“Great. So I have some news for you,” Craig says coyly.

“Oh, really? Does it have anything to do with your meeting with Hogan this morning? Spill.”

“Well, I’ll give you a hint now if you promise to come over for dinner tonight so I can tell you the whole thing. Deal?”

“Deal. Let’s hear it.”

“Let’s just say it involves travel north.”

“That’s a clue? What does that even mean? Wait—is it about Wolf?”

After giving it some more thought and talking about it with Brian, I had decided to pitch Craig a reality show about Wolf. I e-mailed him a summary of my idea last night. I still don’t think Hogan will ever go for it, but if Craig wants to do a reality TV show, why not Wolf? Could Craig have already gone to Hogan with the idea?

“You’ll see. Gotta run. See you tonight!”

As intrigued as I am, I have no time to focus on reality TV, when the reality of the afternoon’s shoot is kicking my ass.

The lighting team is falling behind schedule, so our thirty-minute lunch break has stretched to an hour and a half. As I pace uselessly, I watch another piece of lighting equipment get shoved into the “bad guys’ ” truck. I have no skills in light design and nothing but hero worship for what Victor can create with lights and shadows, but we are really falling behind schedule. We have to get going here.

“Maddy.” Billy appears from behind a false backdrop. “Frank told me it’s going to be at least another thirty. I’m sending a runner for some coffee. You want?” He grabs his phone, sunglasses, and sides from the pocket of his chair.

“I think I’m going to need it,” I say, resigning myself to the long hours ahead. “A double-shot cappuccino, please.”

“You got it.” Billy disappears.

My spiral notebook is calling my name as I sit down. I’ve finished all the bookkeeping I can do on the scenes we shot this morning. And I can’t really do anything until the director tells me we’re back on track. So I don’t really feel guilty as I flip to the pages where I’ve written my notes on the Wolf County reality show idea.

I figure I might as well be prepared if we’re going to discuss it tonight. Ever since I drafted up the official pitch, I’ve even been mulling over the details, who and what story lines could be good.
The Gordons, who live next door to my parents, would be perfect with their kooky taxidermy-in-the-garage thing. It’s TV gold. My brother’s team of blasters and ski instructors are perfect for the young/hot/single guys and girls aspect. And, of course, there’s how everyone is being affected by the economy. So that’s three different story lines to focus on. It’s balanced, compelling, and something for everyone. I start imagining how the pilot episode might shape up.

“Maddy!” I jump about a foot out of my chair and look up from my notes to see Adam with a Starbucks cup in each hand. “I’ve been calling your name. You were a million miles away. PA’s
back with coffee. It’s not a fruity cocktail, but it’ll have to do. ” He hands me one of the cups and sits down in the director’s chair next to mine.

“Oh, I…” I think about explaining that I’m actually not a fruity-cocktail-type girl, but I don’t know… I think I’m starting to like the girl Adam seems to think I am. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. I was just working on a… project.”

“Something top secret? I promise not to tell anyone.”

“It’s not top secret. It’s just… well, I don’t know. I haven’t really talked about it yet.”

“Okay,” Adam says agreeably. He takes a sip of his coffee, making no move to leave. “Oh, I forgot.” He stands and pulls a variety of sweeteners out of his pocket. “I wasn’t sure which you preferred, so I grabbed them all.” He’s not kidding. Splenda, Equal, sugar, raw sugar, and a packet of honey are all displayed on his palm.

“Thanks,” I murmur, self-conscious all of a sudden for some reason. I take a packet of raw sugar and begin fixing my drink. He seems perfectly comfortable sitting in the silence next to me, but I have to fill it.

“Was that your girlfriend on set yesterday? She seemed nice.” Truthfully, she didn’t really talk to anyone on the crew. I offered her a headset so she could listen to the dialogue in the scene as she watched the monitors, but she just sat there watching impassively. She didn’t seem interested in interacting with any of us.

“Did she really seem nice? She’s not.” From his position in the chair next to me, I can see a half-grin on his face.

“If you don’t think she’s nice, why are you dating her?”

“I didn’t say I was
dating
her.” There is a slight emphasis on the word “dating.”

“Okay, whatever.” Playing word games with Adam Devin does not seem like a wise idea. Better to nip this in the bud now. But as usual, Adam reads my reserve the way a bull sees a red flag.

“I’m just teasing you, Scripty. She’s my agent’s daughter. She just graduated from NYU and was here to check out what Hollywood is all about. I was just playing host.”

“Ahh,” I reply as politely careless as possible.

“Did she ask you anything about production? I told her not to hesitate if she had questions.”

“Nope, but I would have been happy to tell her everything she ever wanted to know about the glamorous role of a script supervisor.” I smile. “Actually, I didn’t see her talk to anyone.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Adam takes a sip of his latte. I can’t help but look at the side of the cup to see if there are complicated markings indicating his picky drink choice. But there’s just his name and a smiley face. Guess the barista was a fan.

“What do you mean?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Well, I try not to make snap judgments about people, but I got the vibe pretty quickly that she’s not up to the task of actual work. Even TV work.” That makes me laugh. Most of us who work in TV forget how lucky we are to get to call what we do “work.”

“You call that a ‘snap judgment.’ I call it a ‘first impression.’ And I find they’re usually right on.”

“Yeah, I guess. So what was your first impression of me, then?” He grins from ear to ear.

Is he fishing for compliments?
Keep it professional, Maddy.

“Well, truthfully, I was impressed that you arrived right on time. Punctuality and professionalism are big in my book.”

“So, not my abs, then?” He laughs and I surprise myself by joining him.

“I could stand for you to be more accurate with your dialogue.” Hey, if he’s really looking for honesty…

“I always know my lines, Maddy. Come on, you know that. What’s the big deal, a word here or there?”

“I’m not saying you’re not prepared. I know you are; it’s just… it’s supposed to be exact, you know. I’m sure the writers would appreciate it if it were word for word.”

“It’s not like I’m rewriting the script. Sometimes in the moment, things happen. Don’t you think it’s important to go with the flow sometimes too?”

I wouldn’t describe myself as a “go with the flow” type of person, so I really don’t know how to answer that. “I guess I see what you mean,” I say vaguely.

“I don’t know, so far you seem a very by-the-numbers type of person, Scripty. But I like you anyway.”

His voice is teasing, but I still have no idea how to respond to that. Panic sets in at the awkward silence. Adam seems totally comfortable, though. I am about to reach for my phone or notebook to fake a distraction when he turns toward me.