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Julian frowned, confused. "I don't need his permission. We're not exclusive."
That was news to me, and I wasn't entirely sure what this meant. But when I noticed he wouldn’t look at me, I got worried.
"Are you okay?"
He nodded and gave me a placating smile. "I'm fine. Go to bed."
"Fuck that, we said no pretending," I told him.
Which made me a hypocrite since I hadn't been completely honest, but whatever.
"Fine," he clipped, "I don't feel a hundred percent, but I will talk to Dr. Kendall about it next week."
Fair enough. Wasn't a whole lot I could argue there.
"Okay," I replied slowly. "Just…you know where to find me if you wanna talk. I may be busy as fuck, but I've always got time for you, kid."
His smile was small, but at least it was genuine this time. "I appreciate it, Noah. Now, go to bed. I'll be there tomorrow."
*
Julian was late.
The sealed-off street was packed with trailers, crew, picnic tables, and now a couple food trucks, but I would've known if he was here. Unless security had let him pass without ID and he'd wandered into the empty building where we were shooting.
I doubted it.
"Thanks, doll." I accepted my lunch from Lucia, my feisty little AD, and got back to my discussion with Shawn. "I want all three cameras on Sophie for this, and I want Paul to Dutch his at the end. Nothing shaky, and we'll start off with the tilt after the smash." I spoke of Shawn's main operator and an angle one should be careful not to overuse, but I had to get my vision out. "So, she goes from here—" I pointed at her line in the script and took a bite of my sub "—to here. We'll do a one-er, and then pickups in case we'll need them later."
The option was several takes, but knowing Sophie was best right off the gate for emotional scenes, I preferred doing several cameras instead.
Shawn brought out his printouts of photos of the set, making notes and floor marks, and I saw one of the crewmembers walking by with a big bucket. It reminded me that it was Five Dollar Friday, so I dug out a couple bills and dropped them in the bucket as he passed.
Old tradition. At the end of the day, one lucky crewmember would be a few hundred bucks richer.
"That’s from me and Sophie," I told him. She was having lunch on set to stay in character, so I didn't want anyone to bother her. She'd even kicked Tennyson out earlier, which had been a comical sight.
"Noah!"
I looked up and saw Julian waiting by security. I nodded for the guard to let him in.
"I'll go talk to Paul," Shawn said. "We should be ready within ten. Rembrandt lighting's done, and it's just the grip for the Dutch that needs adjusting."
"Cheers, man—wait." I chewed the last of my sub. "The Rembrandt is for the next shot."
"Oh! Highlight on the dust bunnies?"
I pointed at him. "That’s the one." Julian reached my table by then, and I took a swig of my soda. "Took you long enough. We're about to begin."
"Then I'm not late." He smiled and sat down next to me, so I introduced him to Lucia and two PAs sitting with us. "Nice to meet you all," Julian said politely. "I've heard great things about you."
I threw an arm around Lucia and gave her cheek a smooch. "She's gonna marry me one day. She just doesn't know it yet."
She laughed and slapped my arm. "I think my husband would object."
"As long as you don't object." I winked at her and then stood up. "All right, lemme show you the set, kid."
I licked some sauce off my fingers and jerked my chin for him to follow me inside the building. It was old as hell, but it had obviously passed inspection, so the run-down look was mostly external.
"I thought film sets were more glamorous," Julian said. "What is this place?"
"Old factory." I gestured toward the freight elevator, and we got in with a couple other crewmembers. "Our location scout found it last minute. Once you see the top floor, though… It's perfect." We hadn't needed to knock much down. It already looked rustic and vintage. We'd added new, smaller windows and a vaulted ceiling to turn it into a real attic, but that was about it. And it left plenty of space for the crew and all the gear.
My phone rang, and speak of the devil, it was the location scout.
"Hey, Tiff," I answered. "How's Paris?"
"French," she quipped. "And I'm done. I've found an amazing street in the Fifth Quarter where we can shoot, and the front of one building looks exactly like the one where April's is supposed to be in the Eighteenth. Mr. Wright and I are working on the permits as we speak."
