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Hunter’s in his element. He doesn’t come to the set in his usual suits, preferring to dress more casually. It makes sense since his day starts early and ends super late. Sometimes he’s on set for almost eighteen hours, two hours longer than the majority of his crew.
“You don’t have to stay with me after the sixteen-hour mark,” he tells me on the first day. “I don’t want you to burn out.”
“A little hypocritical, don’t you think? You need to worry about burn out, too.”
“I’ll be fine, Eden. You should go home.”
I shake my head. “Where you go, I go, boss.”
He looks like he wants to give me a kiss, but there’s at least a dozen other people nearby who might see. He pats me on the arm instead. It’s a friendly gesture, but it feels really weird. Clinical. Like I’m just another employee, not his… lover? Girlfriend? I don’t know how to describe what we have, but I’m not sure if I want to put a label on it.
Today is the first scene we’re shooting with my mother. Her call time was 7:30 a.m. sharp. I know because I was the one who sent her the call sheet. Much to my surprise, she showed up on time. I expected her to be an absolute diva and arrive several hours late, but there she was, climbing up the stairs of her private trailer at circus with an overworked production assistant tailing her everywhere she went.
“I didn’t know movies were shot out of order,” I mutter, mostly to myself.
“It’s to save time and money,” Hunter explains patiently. He’s not looking at me, his eyes glued to his iPad. Robert’s updated storyboards were sent to him electronically along with all of Charlie’s notes. “A lot of our actors are coming in from New York, but our Romeo’s currently involved in a Broadway play, so we have to work around everyone’s schedules to make sure we get the shots we want.”
“Sounds like a massive headache,” I comment.
Hunter snorts. “You have no fucking idea.”
Charlie rushes up in a hurry, clapping his hands. “We’re all set, boss. What’s the hold up?”
“We’re waiting for Juliet to arrive,” Hunter explains. “The PA just radioed in. Should be another five minutes.”
I smile quietly to myself. I like how Hunter doesn’t refer to the actors by their real names, but by their character names. I wonder if all directors do that, or if it’s just him. Either way, I find it endearing.
Just then, the radio —or brick, as so many of the crew members refer to it— beeps. A young woman’s voice crackles over the wavelength.
“Um, Mr. Stride? We have a problem. Annabeth is refusing to come out of her trailer. She says she needs to speak to you about her transportation conditions.”
Hunter frowns, picking up the brick and pressing his thumb to the TALK button. “Her transportation conditions?”
“She says she doesn’t want to take the golf-cart to set. She’s demanding a private car.”
I know he’s stressed as hell and only growing more pissed by the second because his left eye twitches. I’ve seen it happen a handful of times at a couple of his meetings. What comes next is never pretty.
“It’s literally a five-minute ride,” he snaps. “She doesn’t need a private car to get from circus to set.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Stride. She’s locked herself in. She won’t come out until you talk to her.”
Hunter pinches the bridge of her nose. “For fuck’s sake. Fine, I’ll—”
“Let me go,” I offer, placing a hand gingerly on his shoulder. “I’ll talk some sense into her.”
“Are you sure? I know you and Annabeth are…” He lets the sentence end unfinished.
“You stay here,” I say with a nod. “Do what you have to in order to get ready to shoot the scene. I’ll drag my mother out by the hair if she doesn’t comply.”
The corner of his lip quirks up. It’s not a full smile, but I can read his appreciation just fine. “Thank you, Eden.”
“Of course, Mr. Stride. I’ll be back in jiffy.”
It really isn’t that long of a walk from set to circus, but there’s a reason Annabeth needs a golf-cart to take her around the studio lot. Juliet is supposed to be undercover at a gala tracking the big bad so her costume is elaborate, featuring a floor-length emerald gown with sparkling pieces of jewelry.
With her hair and makeup complete, the last thing production wants is for Annabeth to ruin her costume. What if she steps in a puddle? What if it rains on the way? What if God strikes her down with a sudden bolt of lightning? No, it’s best to have her driven everywhere to maintain her overall ensemble and reserve her strength for acting her heart out.
Her trailer is the biggest one here. It’s basically a home, complete with a bed to sleep in, a small kitchenette and eating area, a big flat screen TV, couch, and even a working shower. Her name is printed on a laminated sign, which is stuck to the front door.
