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Isaac sighed. He leveled his gaze at me and I found myself transfixed by his dark eyes. They were warm and intelligent, the kind of eyes that might belong to a wizard or a king — which, perhaps not coincidentally, were both roles that he had played in movies that I’d seen.
“You have to remember,” he said, as I took another long pull of my beer, “that a movie isn’t just about you or me. It’s about the other actors, crew, set designers, costume designers, cinematographers…” he moved his hand out to imply that the list continued, “and they’re all relying on this income. They have families to support, car repayments —” he paused and his brow furrowed. “And careers that could end if this movie flops at the box office.”
A heavy weight formed in my stomach as I realized he was right. There was far more at stake here than me feeling embarrassed for a few weeks if my performance was bad. It would be one thing to see myself looking awkward on the big screen, but another thing entirely if that awkwardness cost hundreds of people their jobs.
“Why did Preston cast me, then?” I asked in a soft voice.
“To save time and money.” Isaac reached across the table like he wanted to take my hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he let his hand rest on the table between us. “It’s how this industry works.” He gave me a steady look. “Have you signed a contract yet?”
I shook my head.
“Then it’s not too late to say no. You can still back out and nobody would blame you.”
I took another sip of beer, letting the bubbles swill around my mouth before I swallowed. At the cafe, I’d learned to never turn down work, especially after I’d already said yes. I’d seen many half-committed teenagers get fired from doing that. And because we lived in a small town, once they were fired,everyoneknew about it.
“If I quit, won’t I get a reputation for being unreliable?”
“Would you care?” Isaac’s answer surprised me. For such a serious actor, I expected advice more along the lines of dedicating myself a hundred percent to my craft. “Where do you normally work?”
“A cafe in town.”
“And what are your career goals?”
Outside the tinted window, a car with the word ‘security’ on its side turned between the other trailers and drove toward us. I watched it as I scratched the damp label on my beer bottle. The truth was, I didn’thaveany career goals. So many kids I’d gone to school with had moved to Brisbane or Sydney for university, but I stayed here because I knew dad needed me.
“Well, I like to read….”
“So, who cares about your reputation in Hollywood?” The corner of Isaac’s mouth twitched. “Unless you’re planning a career change.”
The morning had been so hectic that the idea that this might turn into acareerhad never occurred to me. I stared at him as two security guys climbed out of their car. One wore a cap; the other had dark hair.
“Come on,” he said, getting up from the table. “Let’s get this sorted out.”
I wanted to stay in his trailer, to talk through all the thoughts that swirled in my head, but he was already up and heading out the door.
“Are you Kyla?” the guy wearing a cap asked.
“That’s me.” I followed Isaac down the steps and led them to Brooke’s trailer. “This is my trailer, I guess, but its previous occupant didn’t give me the key.”
I half expected the guys to treat me like a criminal, but they seemed unphased. Perhaps gossip about Brooke leaving hadalready spread, or perhaps they didn’t care. They slid a master key into the lock and twisted it, and the door swung open.
“Leave it unlocked until you can get another key cut,” the other guy said. “Just don’t leave anything valuable in there.”
I bit my tongue, so I didn’t blurt out that I didn’t own anything valuable in front of Isaac and asked if they could change the locks instead. When they’d finished, I climbed the steps and when I reached the door, instantly recoiled at the smell.
“What is that?”
Isaac followed me and pulled a face.
“It smells like…” he sniffed the air, “rotting meat.”
“Did she leave an animal corpse here for me?” This trailer looked nothing like Isaac’s. It was completely trashed, with rubbish everywhere, and I walked through the mess to the bed, half expecting to pull the sheets back and find a dead possum there. But there was nothing.
“I think I’ve found the culprit,” Isaac said. I trod carefully back through the debris and found him standing at the sink, pinching his nose and looking at a bowl that had once contained food, but now housed a thick, fuzzy layer of mold.
“Yep, that’d be it.”
The bowl looked like it was beyond saving, so I tossed it into a plastic bag and double-knotted the handles. The last thing I expected was for a famous movie star to help me clean up, but to my surprise, Isaac took the bag.
