Page 8 of Between Takes
Chapter Three
When my phone rang the next morning a little after 3AM, I didn’t need to read the screen to know who it was. No one rang me before 8AM. Ever. My family valued their lives, and I wasn’t close enough to my old friends to call any of them at any hour. That meant it could only be one person and he was calling me before our ridiculous call time.
“Yes, Shaun?” My words might have been a little slurred. If he asked why, I’d blame the lack of coffee and the fact I was sat in my car in the studio car park with my head pressed against the steering wheel, wishing it were a pillow. Honestly, on what planet is a 4AM call time, okay? I’d felt sick just texting times over to the driver the production had hired.
“Why the fuck is there a driver at my door?” He didn’t so much as pause for pleasantries. Lucky for him, beneath his angry moaning I could hear a croak of tiredness.
“You have to be on set in an hour.” I forced a note of understanding into my voice. After all, I didn’t want to be awake either. “Make-up and wardrobe are expecting you in fifteen minutes.”
“Why did you let them call me this early?” he grumbled. “Tell them I’ll be there at ten.”
And that did it. My patience ran away from me and I gritted my teeth.
“I’ll tell them no such thing. Get in the car and do the job the producers are paying you a pretty penny to do.”
Without another word, I hung up and went in search of coffee.
I might have admired his pretty face and ripped body for a moment, but the man had a stick up his ass. I wouldn’t let myself forget that.
“You’re Mona, right? Shaun’s new assistant?” A tall, bearded guy stopped beside me while I mixed my second coffee of the morning. His lilting Welsh accent took his friendly smile up a notch. He wore a headset similar to the one hanging around my neck. “I’m Brian, the first AD.”
“What’s an AD?”
He frowned. “Have you ever worked on a set before?”
I shook my head, refusing to feel even the smallest twinge of doubt. I didn’t need to know the lingo to keep a firm handle on Shaun.
“Assistant director. I’m the guy in charge of set, the one who keeps this train on the tracks.” He pointed to a raven-haired woman pinning something to the wall. “That’s Leanne. She’s the crowd second AD. Talk to her if you’ve got any issues with the SAs.” He paused, his cheeks reddening slightly as he took in my pinched expression. “Sorry, habit. Support artists, or extras, as the wider world knows them – just don’t use that term where they can hear you. Leanne deals with getting them to set and keeping track of continuity.”
He spun around, his gaze scanning the wide-open space.
“Hey, Aidan!” he shouted, his voice clanging in the morning hush.
Yet another tall, good-looking man. What were they putting in the water around here?
Aidan’s gaze shifted from Brian to me. Although friendly, there was definitely an assessing light to the once-over I got. He was younger than Brian. I’d place Brian in his early thirties, but I’d hazard a guess that Aidan was younger than me.
“Aidan’s my right-hand man, my third AD. He handles the runners and directs the background most of the time. If you run into any issues with Shaun’s schedule or wardrobe, talk to me or Leanne. If it’s transport- or accommodation-related, check in with production.”
I scanned the bustling space as Brian explained how I should use the radio mic if I needed to reach people, and which channels to use. I nodded along while I watched people scramble about the space. Some positioned furniture and set pieces on the sound stage, while others checked equipment and adjusted lighting.
“All you really need to know right now is to stay out of the way. The rest you’ll pick up pretty fast.” He pointed towards a small group of people who looked younger than Aidan. They wore headsets and had radios clipped to their belts. “The runners can help with basic things, and if you ever get too busy, we can have them handle shepherding Shaun to make-up and wardrobe.”
I studied their fresh faces. They seemed innocent, like they might cry if Shaun inflicted yesterday’s stunt with the trailer door on them.
Before I could respond to Brian, Shaun arrived on set, baring his teeth and barking at anyone who dared cross his path. Brian snapped to attention, and everyone sprang into action. The sound stage cleared and an older man dropped his script, jumping to his feet with exuberance and open arms. He guided Shaun through the scene while a couple of extras – em, SAs – in everyday clothes positioned themselves around the living-room set.
Despite the early-morning phone call, I’d been feeling a wee bit optimistic. Shaun had been on his best behaviour after our rocky introductions yesterday, sitting through make-up without arguing and accepting criticism without snark. I thought I was home free, that Sherry had exaggerated.
“Can you get a fucking move on, Carys?” Shaun snapped at his beautiful co-star. Her mic kept playing up and the sound assistant struggled to fix it. “It’s not a hard scene.”
My jaw dropped open. Carys’s character was supposed to have found her mother’s mangled body. She needed to be highly emotional, but every time she started crying, he’d roll his eyes and shout, “Again.” It might not have been a hard scene, but the person acting as her brother was an utter dickhead. I’d struggle too.
They hurried on, but that didn’t appease Shaun. He really had a bee in his bonnet today. If even one member of the cast missed their cue, he muttered beneath his breath, causing the whole thing to reset. Eventually, muttering became too much for him and he resorted to growling.
Who the hell actually growls at people? TV stars, apparently.
Safe to say, the entire thing put the crew on edge, but it didn’t faze them. Production rolled forward despite the tense atmosphere.
