Catch A Falling Superstar: A New Adult Erotic Romance (6 page)

He pointed out of the set to the empty sound stage. Everyone was still at lunch and would remain there for at least another forty minutes.

“Just give me some feelings. Be yourself, and then exaggerate a little. It's not that hard.”

“Okay,” I said. “But don't expect anything.”

I took a minute to think about Ophelia. If it was like the play, she was an innocent girl caught in the middle of court intrigue, a deathly serious family drama and even international politics and power games. How would I react? I would not be okay with this spoiled little prince trying to get my sympathy for harebrained schemes.

“Ready,” I said, and he started his lines.

Hamlet:
“The choice we have is so basic. We all have the choice. To be alive or to be dead.”

Ophelia, a little puzzled:
“No. That's not a real choice.”

Hamlet:
“Is it really better to take all the shit that life gives you and meekly accept it and ask for more, or do you just say “fuck you” and hand it right back, just ending it? Just making it impossible to receive any shit anyone wants to hand off to you? Because we all have that choice. Taking no more shit from anyone ever again.”

Ophelia:
“Then what? “

Hamlet:
“What?”

Ophelia:
“I know what you mean. You mean suicide. But then what? After you die. What happens then?”

I added the last two sentences. Because I felt they were needed. Ophelia should be a little more confrontational than the script allowed for. And some clarification was needed.

Archer didn't react adversely to my longer line, and stayed in character.

Hamlet:
“Nothing happens.”

Ophelia:
“How do you know that?”

There's a short pause as Hamlet thinks about this.

Hamlet:
“Every idea of what happens after we die is made up by us, by humans. We just can't handle the idea of nothing. But nothing happens. It's just over. Not even blackness. Nothing. Did you ever see a cat play with a bird it has caught? Wings broken, feathers ruffled, bleeding, panicking... Nature is a brutal bitch, you know that. Why should death, the most natural phenomenon of all, be different? There's nothing after. No, it's just the fear, nothing else.”

And now he was adding lines of his own! The cat and bird thing was not in the script. And he was coming alive, too! This was not a spoiled teenager threatening to kill himself if he didn't get his way. No, this was a prince of the realm, with deadly purpose and a cold heart, lashing out in the only way he knew how.

Ophelia:
“I don't believe that. You're wrong.”

Hamlet:
“Do you remember anything from before you were born? No, you don't. You came from nothing and you will return to nothing. There's nothing to fear.”

All that was new. He was getting into it! That was not Archer I was talking to, that was Hamlet.

Ophelia:
“That's a silly argument. You talk like a boy who just discovered that there is such a thing as death.”

Hamlet:
“And you talk like an old maid, scared of her own shadow. People live out their lives because they're afraid of what comes after. Of course they do. People have to deal with all kinds of crap from other people. Their bosses, their family, basic injustice, bureaucrats, governmental incompetence, being friend-zoned, whatever. Thing is, you can put a stop to all that with just one gun and one shot. One short step into the road in front of a cement truck. One even shorter short step off a cliff. It's so easy! The only reason most people don't is that they're more afraid of what comes after death than the shit they go through here. Everyone has those thoughts at some point. But then they don't follow through. They're scared of what comes after.”

Ophelia:
“You're saying that everyone is a coward.”

I put some disdain into that, avoiding the matter-of-fact tone that Lisa had used. Ophelia didn't buy it yet.

Hamlet:
“Yes! Every life has shit in it. It has more shit than good things. Much more. As soon as you realize that, you should fix it or you're a coward.”

Ophelia:
“So this is your 'I didn't ask to be born' argument, right?”

That line was all mine.

Hamlet:
“No one asks to be born or conceived. We can't. We don't exist. Other people make the decision to bring us into being.”

Ophelia:
“You think everyone should kill themselves?”

Hamlet:
“Everyone who's an adult. Let me ask you this: Do you even
like
this world we live in?”

Ophelia, quietly, vulnerable:
“I like
some
things about it.”

To me, that line was obviously her saying, in her own way, that she loved Hamlet. But that was not how Lisa had been playing it.

Hamlet:
“We were born into this world with no choice. Your parents know only that you will have to take a shit-ton of crap in your life from everyone who feels that they have power over you. That's all they can guarantee you. Everyone who gets the chance to hurt you will do it as soon and as hard as they can. If not, it's because they are waiting for a better opportunity to hurt you even more.”

Ophelia:
“I don't believe that. Some bad things have happened to you recently. They have, I know. They make you exaggerate the evils of the world. I understand.”

That was almost all me. It came naturally. It's what I would have said if I were Ophelia in this scene.

Hamlet:
“What if you knew for a fact that there was nothing after this? Just nothing, and you also know that you will be going there anyway, after a life filled to beyond capacity with humiliation and heartache and worry and trouble? Would you not just get it done and over with? Anything we do in this world is worthless and useless anyway.”

That was said with such intensity and sincerity that I just stared for a moment, even if I had heard the line many times before. That was the difference between a person reading lines and a world class actor being in a role. This was Archer being Archer Stratton, Academy Award winner. It made my next line absolutely true.

Ophelia:
“Don't talk like that. It makes me afraid.”

Hamlet:
“Afraid because I'm right!”

That was the end of the scene in the script. But not in my mind. My Ophelia would not let herself and her opinions be dismissed like that.

Ophelia:
“No! Afraid because you're wrong. And you know you are. But you still say these things to me. As if you wish me...
harm
.”

I said the last thing with an anxious anger, in a way. Well, that's what it felt like. I don't know a better way to describe it.

Now it was Archer's turn to stare at me. We just stood there in silence, enjoying the feeling of a scene that had been played pretty well. That had to be an addictive feeling, I thought. Then I saw Archer do a double take and look out of the set, toward the camera. I followed his glance with my own eyes.

There was Hector Matheson, famous and admired director of many high budget motion pictures, leaning nonchalantly up against a light pole, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He was looking right at us, a relaxed smile playing at his lips.

“Now
that
,” he said calmly. “That
works.
”

Archer called out to him. “How long have you been there, Hec?”

“Oh, long enough. I just had the feeling I should come back to the set a little earlier after lunch. Strange hunch I had. I get those. Sometimes they pay out, mostly not. This one payed out fine. I think a little rewrite is in the cards. We'll postpone this scene until tomorrow. We'll probably breeze through it in a couple of takes.”

He turned away and sauntered off.

More people were filing in, having seen the director finish his lunch and walk towards the set. Always a good idea to keep tabs on what the boss is doing, I guess.

“Okay,” Archer said. “That frees me up for the rest of the day. Seems we'll have a late lunch after all. Decide on where you want to go. I'll go to my trailer and freshen up. Walk around here and look at stuff as much as you want. One more scene to be shot here today, but not with me in it.”

Then he left, crossing paths with Lisa as she came in. I could tell he was looking at her, trying to establish friendly eye contact, but she wasn't having it, and just stared ahead of her. She went right over to where Hector was conferring with a group of what I guessed were assistants and important technicians, and they all gave her priority.  So I was left to myself on the sound stage of a major Hollywood production.

I
sat down in Archer's designated chair again, happy with my first attempt at acting. Of course I couldn't really know if I had been able to provide any real help to Archer, or how good my acting had really been, but the way both he and Hector had reacted told me that it might have been okay.

There was a lot of noise in the sound stage by now, because people were preparing for the last scene of the day. Shouting, electric drills, just normal conversations, metallic bangs and hollow booms made the backdrop of a huge hall in which lots of people were busy working. So I couldn't hear what was being said between Lisa and the director, but I couldn't help noticing that even if Hector never looked in my direction, he must have mentioned me somehow, because Lisa suddenly half turned and looked straight at me.

Somehow, a super famous Hollywood actress at the top of her game staring at me made me super conscious of my own appearance, in my ridiculous yellow and black LuckyStop uniform, hat and all. I looked away and pretended not to have noticed her gaze falling on me. Did she even know who I was?

When I glanced back at the group, it was only Hector talking and joking with some of the crew. Lisa was nowhere to be seen.

I thought I would locate the restroom before Archer got back, and so I moseyed off to where Brent had pointed earlier. He was right, the facilities were actually pretty nice.

As I was washing my hands, someone else came in, but didn't enter a stall. I looked over my shoulder to see who it was. My heart skipped a beat - it was Lisa Scalia. She was standing not too far behind me, arms crossed tightly across her chest and her head down. But she was looking up at me, huge brown eyes smoldering with fire. Yeah, she was not happy.

“Hi!” she said, too aggressively to be a friendly greeting.

“Hi-” I started, but she cut me off, her voice strained and high pitched.

“So is LuckyStop starting a new branch in here?”

“I... whuh?”

“Because I don't see why else we'd have little uniformed
clerks
running around the set, screwing things up.”

I just stared for a moment, taken aback.

“Well, I didn't mean to be in the way-”

“Really? Because I only heard that there was a LuckyStop girl hogging the monitor and making sure no one else could see the shot. Because I guess the the crew – you know, people who actually
work
here - don't really need to see what's going on. Right?”

“I was sort of invited-”

“You were sort of invited?
Sort of
? What does that mean? You were not
really
invited? You just couldn't leave? Or
wouldn't
? Because that's what I'm hearing!”

I felt tears burning behind my eyes. This was not only unfair, but also hurtful. And she had taken me completely by surprise, stunning me.

“Now the thing is this, and someone has to tell you: We, about a hundred and fifty people, are trying to tie up this project. We're almost there. And then someone from the outside comes and trips up everything. Yes, I heard you just decided to rewrite the script and change the whole meaning of the main scene! That's so great. Because the reason I just spent
seven months
preparing for this role and
eleven weeks
shooting was so that a random
convenience store clerk
could tell everyone here how to do their jobs, including me. A job I have done about forty times before. You know, shooting a movie or a show? How many movies have you shot?”

“I didn't mean to...”

“Oh, I'm sure you didn't
mean
to do shit. Weird how that works, huh? This little local girl waltzes in on a
closed set
in the shadow of Archer Stratton, then proceeds to act in the main scene of the movie!”

“He asked me to hel-”

“Yes, I'm sure he did! I'm sure. That's what he's like. And you were not hard to ask, were you? Do you know, if his assistant hadn't quit, she'd have thrown your ass the hell out of here as soon as she
saw
you? Like, with an armed guard on each side of you, making sure you left forever? Because those are the
rules
here. This is place of
work
, did you know that? It's not a place where you can see the sights or hang out with actors any way you want like you own the place!”

I had to assert myself. This was completely unfair. I tried to find my voice.

“Hey, I-” But once more she cut me off, her voice going shrill.

“Now, what I'm saying is this: You got bitten by an ocelot that Archer Stratton was walking. Or scratched or whatever. What is he going to do? Is he going to say
there, there
, give you his autograph and wait until you sue him and the whole studio for millions of dollars over a tiny injury? Or is he going to take pity on you, pretend to care about your welfare and bring you to the set to get proper treatment and let you see a real sound stage and dazzle the shit out of you? Yeah, I know he's charming. He is charming to
everyone
, including guys. Don't get any ideas. You have no business being here in the first place. You had your fun, and in the process you have probably screwed up this production for me. For everyone. Do you know that we're very far behind schedule already? Do you
have any idea
how much that's costing
per day
?!”