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Erica shot Gemma a glance as her phone rang. “Great. If she can fix this, we’ll give her a PA credit on the episode. I’ll be on set. Hello?” She said the last word into her phone and marched off.
Gemma didn’t really have a plan, but she suddenly felt the weight of the production resting on her shoulders. The small crowd of important-looking TV people expectantly, and perhaps dubiously, eyed her before they dispersed to follow Erica.
She turned to Jack and whispered, “What do I say to him?”
“Whatever you want. Nothing I’ve ever said has worked, so I don’t know what it’ll take, if it’s even possible.”
Gemma swallowed her nerves and reminded herself that she had recently talked to Nigel Black, so some snooty actor would be nothing. She stepped up to the trailer door and knocked.
“Go away!” Duncan shouted from inside like a child who’d locked himself in his bedroom.
Gemma looked at Jack, and he shrugged.
She knocked again, firmer this time. “Duncan? My name is Gemma. Can I come in?”
“Gemma? I don’t know any Gemma.” The closed door and nearby generator powering the trailers muffled his voice.
“I’m a friend of Jack’s.”
“Jack? I don’t want to talk to Jack. He’s ruining everything.”
Gemma took the cue and gently pushed Jack to the side. “Jack’s not here. That’s why he sent me.”
A long pause passed, and Gemma eventually heard footsteps approaching the door. The trailer slightly swayed as if someone large were moving around inside. The door swung open.
Duncan Miles filled the small doorway, all six-foot-something of his sculpture-like stature and Sexiest Man Alive face. He was in costume, the open suit jacket and dark jeans he wore to portray the titular character in the gritty crime dramaMac Drake. Gemma’s knees wobbled at the sight of him. He arched a dark brow. “Who are you?”
Finding her voice took an embarrassing amount of effort. “Gemma. I’m here to talk to you about getting back on set.”
He sighed and eyed the empty space behind her. Jack had slipped out of Duncan’s line of sight, but Gemma could see him lingering in the corner of her eye. She made a conscious effort not to look at him. “Did Jack send you as some kind of peace ambassador?” he said. He left the door open and turned inside. She took that as permission to follow.
She shot a quick glance at Jack, and he gave her an impressed thumbs-up.
Duncan Miles’s trailer was fit for a king, with a full-sized fridge, bed, sofa, and dining area. A European soccer game that must have been beamed in via satellite was muted on the giant TV. A half-eaten tray of fresh sushi sat on the dining table beside a brand of bottled water Gemma knew Duncan was a spokesperson for. A small bowl of all red Starburst candies sat beside a tattered script that looked like it had been rolled up and used to hit something. The edges curved on either side, and Gemma recognized character names in the lines of Courier font. She tried not to retainany information and, as a fan of the show, she hoped she could make it out of the interaction without spoiling the new season for herself.
“So,” she said, unsure where to start. “I hear there are some issues with this new scene that Jack added.”
He picked up the water bottle and took a swig. “Who are you?”
“I’m Gemma.”
He dipped his long fingers into the candy bowl and pinched a Starburst. Gemma wondered if some poor assistant had to open sleeve after sleeve to pick out all the red ones, or if they special-ordered them in bulk. He unwrapped the candy and popped it in his mouth. He noisily chewed. “And why are you here?”
She suddenly understood what Jack had meant about losing their patience. “To talk about the scene. Jack told me you’re upset with him for writing it.”
He frowned at her, which really only made him more brooding and attractive. “That’s what he thinks I’m upset about?”
Gemma pulled out a chair at the table because she felt like this was a sit-down conversation. “Isn’t it? I thought that’s why you’re refusing to shoot it.”
He rolled his dark eyes. “I’m notrefusingto do anything. I’m taking a moment to express my discontent.”
Gemma had heard Erica say they’d lost an hour, and she could only imagine what that hour had cost in dollars. Reminding Duncan of the time he was wasting did not seem like the right tactic, so she took another.
“Can you tell me what you’re discontent about? Something with the new scene?” She spoke to him gently, like shewas trying to run interference on a toddler threatening a tantrum.
By some miracle, it seemed to work.
He heaved a sigh and sat down in the chair opposite her. He reached for another Starburst. “It’s not the scene. The scene is great.” He bit down on the candy, and Gemma wondered if red Starbursts were his preferred stress food.
