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Was there more here than I expected, or was I overthinking things?
I got to the filming location and went straight to wardrobe. This time, the makeup artist gave me a sideways ponytail and flared my bangs out. The other actresses both got perms. It looked like we were filming a commercial in the eighties.
“My contract includes overages,” one of the other girls said. “They can takefivedays to film, I don’t mind. I’ll get paid for all of it.”
My contract was the same, but I didn’t really care about the money. I just wanted to get it over with.
I recoiled from the thought. A few weeks working for the former SEALs and I was already growing flippant about money. It was amazing what a difference a month could make.
The director was late, so we didn’t start filming until one. It went exactly like the day before. He had us re-shoot the scene over and over, making small adjustments here and there. I began to lose focus around six o’clock. It was tough to stay “on” for that long, even with small breaks in between takes. Thank goodness I was used to being on my feet all the time as a server, otherwise I probably would have collapsed from standing all day.
“I want to get some evening shots,” the director announced at seven o’clock. “Can we get someone to turn on these field lights? The big ones up on the poles? Bob, get the school custodian on the phone…”
I groaned and sent a text to the temporary nanny back at the residence. He didn’t respond. Probably had his hands full with the kids.
Filming in the evening meant a different round of makeup to keep the field lights from glaring off our skin. While the poor makeup girl worked on me, I saw a familiar face approach the set.
“Mr. Howard?” I called.
My acting coach gave me a polite little wave, then chatted with the director. After a few moments, he stood to the side to watch everything.
“Okay, let’s start the evening shots!” the director called.
Nothing changed at night except the temperature. The director was still unhappy with everything: the lighting, the acting, the wardrobe. With Mr. Howard watching, I gave each take my full focus and enthusiasm. But that didn’t impress the director.
Finally he slumped into his chair and groaned. “We need more daytime shots. These aren’t working for me. Okay, people! I need everyone back here in the morning. Say, eight o’clock for wardrobe and…”
Everyone, the actors and set people and boom-holders, was groaning before he could finish.
Mr. Howard slowly approached from the spot where he had been watching. “Phil. Isn’t this a bit much for a commercial?”
The director ignored him while putting away his things. “There are no small roles, Eugene. Only small attitudes. We will take as long as we need.”
“And I suppose this has nothing to do with trying to bill them forthree daysof filming rather than just one? Because you’re holding a grudge for the way they stiffed you on the last job?”
The director dropped his clipboard in surprise, then hastily scooped it back up. “No.”
“You’ve been filming for two days. You have everything you need. Let these poor workers off the hook. If you do, perhaps I’ll make a phone call so you can sit-in on that new ABC pilot being filmed tomorrow. The one everyone is calling the spiritual successor toSeinfeld.”
That got the director’s attention. He cleared his throat and then shouted, “Nix what I said about tomorrow. We’re calling it a wrap now. We have enough film to piece this together. Thank you, everyone, for your help.”
I breathed adeepsigh of relief. “Thank you, Mr. Howard. I was going to break down and cry if I had to come back again tomorrow.”
He smiled at me while the makeup girl cleaned up my face. “Phil has always been fanatical. Sometimes he needs a nudge in the proper direction. You were wonderful today, Heather!”
“You think so?”
“I know so. You were absolutely professional despite the interesting conditions. I am thrilled that you took this job seriously, even though it’sjusta commercial.”
His encouragement made me smile. “Me too.”
*
I got home after nine. The temporary nanny hadn’t responded to any of my texts, so I half-expected to find the residence burned down. But when I walked through the door, all was quiet.
Shit. Did he leave early? Rogan told me they were still out to dinner with The Weiman Agency, so it would be very bad if nobody was home with the kids while they slept…
I heard laughter down the hall, faint and muted. I followed it to the man cave, which was slightly ajar. I gawked at what I saw inside.
