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Bronte’s mouth turned down in thought. It was the first she’d heard about this, and if they opened their own production company, she couldn’t imagine what that meant for Chris. Or for her.
“The backlot isn’t far from here,” Wes told her as he pulled onto a highway. The drive was only about fifteen minutes, and even though he told her stories the whole time, Bronte didn’t hear a thing. At the security gate, Wes checked in and handed her a guest pass. The bright pink lanyard was like a neon sign around her neck. I’m not from here!
Waving to someone he knew, Wes introduced Bronte to Logan, Chris’s production assistant, who led them to set. Inside the studio, walls had been erected to look like an ornate basement of sorts with a boxing ring in the middle. A few dozen people scurried back and forth, while some men, including Chris, stood inside the ring chatting.
Chris wore a loose white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and plain brown pants. The right side of his face had been made up to appear like he’d been in a fight. Bronte guessed this was a scene toward the end of the movie, when his character tries to make a deal with his criminal boss, to whom Roy is indebted, so he can go after Lillian, the upper-class woman he loves.
“Ooh, they got Twizzlers at craft.” Wes tossed his index finger up at her then jogged to tables set up with snacks.
A few feet behind her, Bronte heard distinctly feminine voices.
“I can’t believe your dad got us on set.”
“I know, right? He’s good for something… Look, CJ’s right there.”
Chancing a glance over her shoulder, Bronte regarded the two women chatting and fluffing their hair, pink lanyards around their necks too. They were guests, and apparently one of them was related to someone important.
“I bet his dick is huge. Did you see his pants?” One of them said, and Bronte locked her jaw, focusing back on the movement on set. It had been cleared of everyone except Chris, an older man wearing a long coat that reached down to mid-thigh, and a young woman with a headset and clapboard.
“Okay, quiet on set!” someone yelled through what sounded like a stereo system. Everyone stopped moving, and Bronte held her breath.
From somewhere else, someone said, “Camera rolling.”
Then from another corner, “Sound rolling.”
The woman called out the scene number and closed the clapboard with a smack before the person Bronte assumed was Dante said, “Ready CJ and Winston…action!”
From her spot, Bronte stood on her toes to see over the heads of the people in front of her to where Chris, in character, exchanged words with Bill, which ratcheted up until Chris threw a punch. It looked so real, Bronte startled, her hand pressing into her chest.
“Cut!”
Everyone started moving again, and Wes strolled back over, grinning. “Good, right?”
“Yeah.” Although she wasn’t sure what exactly she’d just witnessed.
Then the two behind her started up again.
“Sweet baby Jesus, he’s so hot. You know which trailer is his?”
“No, but I could find out. My dad told me to talk to Helen. She’s the second AD.”
The other one hissed out what she probably thought was a seductive sound. “God, I want to fuck him so hard.”
Wes’s eyes went wide, and Bronte closed hers, her blood pressure rising by the second.
“You want to go to his trailer?” he asked, elbowing her side. When she turned her attention to him, he offered her a piece of licorice.
She accepted it and bit into the candy as opposed to those women.
Pointing out big wires to avoid, Wes led her back outside toward a row of trailers. He opened the door to the one labeled CJ Cunningham. It was a small but nice space. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the couch. “You want anything to eat or drink?” When Bronte shook her head, he closed the refrigerator door. “Bathroom’s back there. Help yourself to whatever. I’ll be back in a bit.”
She nodded.
“Lost your voice?”
She nodded again, this time smiling at her old friend.
“Okay.” He laughed. “Be back in a few.”
