“Who are you texting?”
“My mother. She’s going to love this.”
“How is she doing?”
“All right. At least she seems to be.”
“That’s good.”
She stops and looks up at me. “It is. Thank you for asking.”
When the film crew is ready for Ash and me, parents come to get their kids, but not before taking a ton of pictures of Maddie and me with them. There are lots of “Thank-you so much” and “You’re really good with kids” and “I can’t believe Riggs Dwyer made stick bread with my kid.” There are also plenty of not-so-subtle inquiries about Maddie.
“You two make a good team. Will you be joining the show?” a woman asks her.
“They should have a woman on their team,” another woman comments. “Besides, you two are a great couple.”
More than a few times, I have to explain that we’re just friends, as does Maddie.
***
By one in the afternoon, it doesn’t look like things with the film crew are winding down. If anything, it feels like we’re just getting started.
The director seems to have an endless supply of suggestions.
“That was perfect, but could you look over therewhile you do it?”
“That was perfect, but could you do it again and kneel this time?”
“That was perfect, but could you swing the axe thing a little slower?”
“That was perfect, but could you do it with your left hand instead of your right?”
Everything is perfect, yet we have to keep doing it different ways, and each reshoot takes forever while they discuss how to reposition the cameras. It’s mentally draining, not to mention boring as hell. The parents left with their kids an hour ago. At least they have a premier ski resort to enjoy.
***
It’s after three in the afternoon and I want to stick a pencil in my eye. We both hate this. Ash told Rhonda she should head back to the lodge, and that he would find her when this was over. She looked glad to leave. Maddie did too. I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye because I was starting a fire with a carbon-steel striker and a piece of flint for the 22nd time, even though the previous 21 times were perfect.
***
It's after seven with no end in sight, so Ash and I decide to have a talk with the director.
“This isn’t going to work,” I tell him. “If we film like this in the jungle, we won’t get far.”
Ash is nodding in agreement. “Like a hundred yards, if we’re lucky.”
Alan, a slender man who looks to be in his fifties, chuckles. “This isnothing like how it’ll work in real life. I should have briefed you before we started. That’s on me.” Before either of us can question him about that he doesn’t give us a chance as he continues to explain. “Everything we’re doing here is for the studio. We need a two-minute sample to show the big boys upstairs what they’ll be spending their money on, which doesn’t make sense since this is nothing like what they’ll be spending their money on. And I’ll tell you something else that will really make you mad. It’s sure pissing us off.”
Ash rolls his eyes. “What?”
“Your sister sent our boss the footage of you two rescuing some endangered animal with its head stuck in a can. Looks like the studio wants to use that instead of what we’re doing here. My assistant got the call about an hour ago.”
Ash smacks his forehead. “Are you kidding? Then why are here?”
“Beats me,” Alan says. “They say jump, and I jump. They want us to finish what we started in case they decide to go with this instead, but I don’t think they’re going to.”
Ash is about to explode, so I put a hand on his shoulder and pull him back before turning to the director. “How much longer do you think this will take?”
