The Last Take Read online

  Great, so she’s just going to do the old talk to me as a cover for ignoring the homeless guy routine. I turn to respond, but she isn’t looking at me.

  She’s looking at Bob.

  He growls from his picnic blanket. “They’re all the same here. There are no seasons in Los Angeles.”

  She laughs. “That’s true. You can’t beat the crisp feeling in the air when it changes to fall.”

  “Um… Bob, this is Evie. Evie, Bob,” I say, running introductions.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you were friends!” She leans down and holds out her hand for a shake. “Pleasure to meet you. I hope he’s not as grouchy to you as he is to me.” She yanks her head toward me.

  Bob chuckles, one of the few times I have ever heard him do it. “He can be a bastard, can’t he?” Still laughing, Bob looks at me. “But he’s a good boy.”

  Evie is beaming, and I shake my head.

  “You had dinner, Bob?” I say quietly, reaching for my pocket. But he waves me off.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m all good. You kids get out of here before someone thinks I’m selling you drugs.”

  Evie bursts out laughing and quickly covers her mouth, and Bob grins to himself, satisfied with his joke.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, continuing down the path.

  “Lovely to meet you, Bob!” Evie calls as he nods us away.

  We don’t talk again until we reach her car—an old clunker that she’s done up with bright seat covers and dangling things from her mirror. It somehow suits her.

  “Big day tomorrow,” she says, climbing into her front seat. “I’m kind of curious to see how you handle it.”

  And as though the lovely quiet night stroll has been interrupted by a screeching record player, I’m reminded of the scene we’re shooting tomorrow.

  “Ugh.” I rub at my eyes. “You had to mention it.”

  It’s mayhem. Absolute mayhem.

  “Now class, settle down. It’s time to move on to your creative writing task,” the fake teacher says, pointing at the chalkboard behind her. The kids are throwing things at each other across the set, giggling and yelling the whole time. Yes, this is part of the scene. But do they settle down in between takes?

  No.

  They do not.

  I make a mental note to get the old snip snip at the earliest convenience.

  “Now remember,” the teacher continues. “Your writing assignment is to be about Scratchy.”

  She points to a small enclosure where the class rat is kept. The rat that is soon to turn homicidal and escape the tank after a drink of water.

  “Cut!” I call. “Let’s set up for the next angle.”

  As George and his team move the camera equipment, the kids descend into more chaos, screaming and laughing and making a lot of fucking noise in general.

  “I knew this was a mistake.” I turn to Dee. “I should’ve never let you talk me into getting an actual classroom of kids and not actors.”

  “Aw, come on now, Mr. Grinch. They’re from a low-income area. Can you imagine how much this means to them?” Dee looks over the chaos with tender eyes. “Look how excited they are.”

  “Yes, I can see that. They’re excitedly ruining my set.”

  “It’s sweet. Isn’t it, Evie?” Dee says, bringing a third into the conversation.

  “Oh yeah, kids are the best.” Evie shrugs.

  I roll my eyes. “You would say that because you’re basically a seven-year-old trapped in a grown-up’s body.”

  Evie scoffs. “If you’re still using the term grown-ups to describe adults, then I’m not the only child here.”

  Dee smirks at us and walks over to the wild kids, trying to calm them down.

  Three hours later and we have just one shot left before we can send them all away forever. It’s a tracking shot from behind the rat as it runs down the center of the classroom, kids diving out of the way like shrapnel. Except after the first take, one kid at the back won’t stop crying. I growl in my throat and throw Dee the side eye. She tries to console the kid, but her efforts fall flat. He sits at his desk, wiping his red eyes, his mouth downturned.

  “We’ll have to sit the sad sack out,” I say when Dee returns. “We’re wasting time here.”

  “You can’t do that!” Evie jumps in. “Think of how sad he’ll be when he’s the only kid in his class not in the movie.”

  “What am I supposed to do??” I gesture wildly to the kid, who is snorting boogers.

  “Let me give it a try.”

  I huff, but sweep my hand out to give her the okay.

  Evie crouches down beside the sad kid, holding onto the desk where he sits. “Hey, I’m Evie. What’s your name?”

  “Billy,” he stutters.

  “Why are you crying, Billy?”

  “The rat.” He points to Scratchy, who is waiting in the animal trainer’s hands, waiting for his next take. “We’re scaring him.”

  “And that’s why you’re sad?” she coos. “Oh sweetie, he’s okay. I promise. Scratchy is a professional. He’s been trained around people screaming and explosions and all kinds of scary sounds. So you don’t have to worry about him, okay?”

  She places a gentle hand on his shoulder and he nods.

  “The only thing I need you to worry about is doing your best yell. Can you do that?”

  Billy shakes his head.

  Ugh.

  “Aw, yes you can. Here, I’ll go first. Have you seen the movie Home Alone? Put your hands up to your face, and go like this.” She opens her eyes and mouth wide, followed by a rough “Ahhhh!”

  Billy giggles and surprisingly follows her lead.

  “That was great! Now how about this one?” She sticks out her tongue, and her neck disappears into her shoulders, a noise following out of her mouth that sounds like a large bird being strangled.

  All the kids are laughing now. Out of the corner of my eye I see the wardrobe assistants whispering, and I look back at Evie. If it wasn’t obvious before, it’s obvious now—Evie gives absolutely zero fucks what people think about her.

  She continues making ridiculous sounds and faces to match until Billy’s red eyes have cleared up and his downturned mouth is replaced with a huge grin. The students hop back into their starting positions, and within a couple of takes, we have the shot we need, every kid diving and screaming to perfection.

  I look over at Evie and give her a nod, which she returns with one of those smiles that reaches her eyes.

  And a wink that gives me a weird tingle.

  15

  Evie

  I may be a positive, bubbly person, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know when somebody is being a jerk. People assume that when you smile a lot, or don’t cuss, or like to see the best in your fellow human beings, that you are rendered incapable of identifying jerky behavior. On the contrary, I know exactly when people are being jerks. I just choose not to react most of the time.

  Which is why I know what Kylie means when she picks up one of my braids, smiles like Professor Umbridge, and says “you really love your ribbons, don’t you?”

  “I think they’re highly underrated,” I reply, taking my braid back and returning her smile with the same amount of sincerity. Which is zero.

  “The children seemed to like them the other day,” she says, in a tone that suggests ONLY children appreciate my fashion choices. I don’t want to stoop to her level, but she has been testing my patience for weeks. I can’t understand how someone could have it in for me from the moment they laid eyes on me.

  “At least you know if film work doesn’t pan out, you have a fallback. You could be a babysitter. Or one of those people who supervise the ball pits at play centers.”

  I don’t know much, but I do know that if I fail in the film industry, there’s a ninety-nine percent chance she is involved somehow.

  “Aw, don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure the kids like your hair too. It reminds me of a Disney character,” I say, flicking the edges of her pixie cu
t. “Prince Phillip, maybe.”

  Her fake smile descends into a scowl, and I’m saved by the bell when Dee calls me over.

  “You look like you needed saving,” she says under her breath.

  “Just Kylie and her famous compliments.”

  “I didn’t know she was such a twerp. If I did, I never would’ve brought her in. And now I need a reason to send her ass packing.”

  “It’s fine.” I wave her off. “Nothing I didn’t deal with in high school.”

  “Oh God, don’t remind me.”

  I look at Dee, with her striking green eyes and pretty curly hair. I can’t imagine her being anything but popular and awesome in high school. Way too cool for me, of course.

  “I wasted a lot of time trying to fit in with girls like Kylie,” she continues, like she’s reading my mind. “Until I realized they weren’t worth shit, and it wasn’t getting me anywhere. The sooner you can figure that out, the sooner you can get on the right path.”

  “I wasn’t cool enough to even try to fit in,” I chuckle. “The cheerleaders weren’t interested in the girl who still rocked a Care Bears backpack.”

  Dee laughs, shaking her head. “And I bet they didn’t know what they were missing. You know, we should get to know each other better. Why don’t you come out tonight? A couple of us are getting drinks once we wrap.”

  “Sure, that sounds great!”

  I can’t stop smiling as Dee is called to the other side of the set. My first social gathering with the film crew.

  Who needs cheerleaders?

  After lunch, we set up for a scene where Damon is doing research on the strange animal behavior in an old library. It doesn’t make any sense, because nobody does research in libraries anymore. Everything is on the internet. But like Adam suggested, I’ve stopped asking questions about the plot holes and just enjoy the crazy ride.

  Another thing that doesn’t make sense is why the library needs a huge wrought iron chandelier with massive candles when a library in the twenty-first century would have working electricity. But again, I let the prop guy do his thing, helping him light the candles before the chandelier is drawn up toward the sound stage ceiling.

  I do my usual routine while everything is getting set up—fetch waters, exchange cold bricks for hot bricks, hand out gaffer tape—and then I settle in at the side, ready to repeat after Joel when the camera’s start to roll.

  I feel like I have a handle on everything now. I got off to a shaky start (and Kylie the Sociopath didn’t help there), but now I really feel like a contributing, valuable member of the team.

  I watch Adam in between takes, discussing camera angles with the cinematographer, directing Damon as he flicks through books. He might find this movie idiotic, but I can tell he’s totally in his element here. I just wish he could see it.

  I feel a funny sense of familiarity when I remember being in his house the other day, walking around his things, hearing his anecdotes.

  Anecdotes about his ex.

  It’s difficult to imagine him with a girlfriend, sharing a cat, snuggling up on the couch together. He’s always so gruff and dry on set. Not exactly someone I would describe as affectionate.

  And yet, I’ve been seeing a different side of Adam. Between forgiving me for my dumb mistakes in the beginning, his friendship with dear old Bob, the way he walked me to my car even though the streets were brightly lit and plenty of people were still around…

  “Sometime this century would be great,” he says to the gaffer, who is trying to adjust a difficult light while Adam watches with his hands on his hips.

  And then there is that side to him. The one that seems to dominate his brain most of the time.

  On the bright side, at least he doesn’t yell at me in front of the crew anymore.

  There’s a weird screeching sound, followed by someone in the upper scaffolding of the set shouting “duck!”

  I look up just in time to see the chandelier lurch threateningly many feet above my head, followed by toppling cream candles. The ones I just set on fire.

  Before I can react, the floor goes out from underneath me and I’m on my back. Somewhere a few feet away, I hear the candles smack hard against the floor, splatters of hot wax going everywhere. But what I am more focused on is the weight on top of me.

  I look up to see Adam.

  His face is so close, I can feel his breath on my neck. My heart is beating out of my chest as I try to process what just happened, but I find myself intoxicated by the subtle scent of some kind of man shampoo and the gum he’s been chewing. His eyes meet mine, and something flickers behind them. He’s looking at me. Really looking. I let out a shaky exhale, trembling from the close call, the feeling of arms around me and being scooped into the air, and the sensation of a man’s body against mine… I can’t tell if it’s been one, two, or twenty seconds, but the moment is gone when Adam gets up, pulling me to my feet.

  “What the fuck happened?!” he shouts, looking between the guy in the scaffolding and the props assistant who set up the chandelier.

  “The rope slipped,” the guy above says. I can tell by the look on his face he’s glad to have about twelve feet between himself and the seething man below.

  “Well how the fuck did the rope slip?” Adam asks. “One of those candles could’ve hit Evie in the head and killed her! She could’ve got hot wax in her eye!”

  Jesus. I’m suddenly extra appreciative that Adam intervened when he did.

  “It was an accident,” the man squeaks.

  “Don’t fucking make me come up there.” Adam points a finger at the scaffolding.

  “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “You better hope it doesn’t happen again. I can’t have Ev—” Adam looks at me, still frowning, his chest moving up and down “—my crew getting hurt on set. Another fuck up like that and you’ll never work on a film again. Got it?”

  The shivering man nods his head. Adam brushes a hand through his hair, face still flushed, before turning to me. “Are you okay?”

  For some stupid reason, I’m still trembling. “I’m fine, thanks to your superhero antics.” I laugh weakly, but I’m not up to my usual standard of cheesy jokes. I can barely concentrate.

  What is wrong with me?

  Adam nods and turns back to the camera team as the props assistant jumps in to clean the wax and candles off the floor.

  And I try to ignore the intense tingling feeling south of my navel.

  “But seriously, that was some Clark Kent shit.” Dee is laughing over her bourbon. “I half expected him to rip off his shirt and reveal the big red S on his chest.”

  I flush at the memory of Adam saving me, taking a large sip of my rosé.

  He didn’t join us at the bar. Which is awkward, because I overheard him telling Joel earlier that he would be there. It was only when he realized I was going too that he went straight home.

  I get it. I wasn’t born yesterday. It’s one thing for the director to drink with the ADs. It’s another for him to drink with the production assistants.

  And to be honest, I’m kind of relieved he didn’t come. I can’t help but feel embarrassed about what happened. He was teased all afternoon about swooping in the way he did. And I feel kind of dumb for needing saving in the first place. I mean, I know the candles falling wasn’t my fault. But Adam definitely seemed uncomfortable about the whole thing.

  And the other thing I can’t get out of my head is the weird expression on his face when he was lying on top of me.

  “Another round, ladies?”

  Brian appears next to us, a lazy arm draped around each of our shoulders.

  “All the drinks in the world wouldn’t make either of us go home with you,” Dee says, removing his hand. “And yes, another round.”

  Brian grins and nods, completely missing the rejection part of her response, and disappears toward the bar. The only other person here is Joel, but he’s a man of few words, which leaves me and Dee free to chat.


  “Do you have a guy, or girl, in your life?” she asks, finishing her first drink.

  “Neither,” I admit. “Although a nice guy wouldn’t go astray. Not that I’m looking,” I add quickly.

  “I hear that. I’m way too busy for a man. Right now, I’m focused on my career. Once that is on track, then maybe I’ll try dating again.”

  “You seem to be pretty on track to me,” I say brightly.

  She shrugs. “I’d love to direct one day. But I’m having trouble getting past second AD gigs. Once I get to where Joel is, I’ll be on the right track. You know he gets to direct some of the second unit scenes on Primal Nature?”

  I shake my head. It’s dawning on me now that getting anywhere in this industry is such a long process, and mine is only just starting. It’s lucky I got in when I did. I certainly have a long way to go. Dee’s right—a man is the last thing I need right now.

  I let my mind wander back to the idea of dating.

  “So, did you know Adam’s ex?”

  The words are out of my mouth before I can think better, and Dee looks at me curiously. “He told you about her?”

  “Just that she took his cat,” I rush, clasping my hands around my glass. “When I dropped his keys back.”

  She sits back in her chair, blowing air out of her mouth. “Kimberly. She was a piece of work. High maintenance type. To be honest, I never got what he saw in her. I mean, she’s gorgeous and everything…”

  I feel an uncomfortable twinge in my stomach.

  “But they were never compatible. And if I’m being honest, Adam never seemed excited about her. You know what I mean?” She scrunches up her face. “Don’t you want to be with someone who excites you?”

  Brian places our drinks on the table with a wink, and Dee rolls her eyes.

  I think about the guys I’ve dated, the guys I’ve slept with, and try to conjure up a feeling of excitement. But nothing’s there. I know I’ve never been in love, but I’m realizing now I’ve also never really liked anyone.

  My thoughts then trail to a feeling I had earlier… to that strange tingling in my stomach.