“So we’ll do thirty-five-millimeters for the day exteriors,” I say, tapping my pencil for emphasis and looking from Jill to Kenneth. “And digital for night exterior shots, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jill nods. “And I’m thinking the anamorphic for those huge outdoor shots. Like the sweeping ones.”
Kenneth tilts his head, eyes the storyboard and our shot list. “We still using the drone for those aerial shots on day three?”
“Yup.” Jill grins, her eyes alight with excitement. “Santa Barbara is gonna be our French Riviera, boys.”
I toss the pencil onto the table and lean back to link my fingers behind my head. “The one advantage of Galaxy is they’re paying for all this shit.”
We laugh because shooting on film is expensive, and in the age of digital, a luxury most filmmakers don’t experience often anymore. Guys like Scorsese, Tarantino, Christopher Nolan—standard bearers for the format who vehemently resist digital—they have the budgets and the clout to insist. We lose a lot of flexibility going with film and can’t review it in real-time like we can with digital. Our dailies have to be sent off to a lab and come back later. It’s slower and less precise. You’re basically shooting onto dollar bills. More rehearsal. Fewer takes. A lot less room for error. Shooting parts of this movie on film will lend it the look I want and add layers of nostalgia, but it’s costly, labor-intensive, and generally a pain in the ass.
And yet the three of us are like kids in a candy store at the prospect. We have the expertise, especially with Jill as our cinematographer, to vary our formats and really create something special, though it will require a different approach to shooting.
“We need to make sure the cast is ready for this shift,” I say, directing the comment to Kenneth. “Everyone, of course, but especially Neevah and Trey. A lot of these scenes are just them and a whole bunch of background actors. We good on the extras?”
“I’ll handle the extras.” Kenneth hesitates and clears his throat. “But with so many of them to wrangle, I’ll be less available for Neevah, and Trey, of course, so I guess you’ll manage them on set.”
Kenneth flips his phone in his hand, looking down at the screen instead of at me. Jill scribbles on her pad, pointedly fixing her eyes on the words as the silence stretches awkwardly between the three of us.
They know.
They can’t know for sure that Neevah and I are together, but based on this shifty-eyed behavior, they know something is up. Obviously, based on our conversations, Jill has her suspicions and did her part to help things along, but I haven’t even told her how things have developed. I grit my teeth, annoyed with myself for showing that much of my hand, but determined to make it clear it won’t affect my work or this story.
“Sure.” I stand and walk over to the model of the Lafayette Theatre for something to do. “That’s no problem. I’ll have to be out there more anyway since we can’t watch the shots in real-time from the tent.”
“Right.” Kenneth pounces on this reasoning. “Works out perfectly. And I’ll make sure all those extras are in place and ready.”
“Sounds good.” I split a look between them, my brows lifted. “Anything else?”
“Nope.” Kenneth stands. “I’m meeting with the cast to go over logistics since tomorrow’s our first day filming on location.”
I grip his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”
“You know it.” Kenneth heads for the door, passing an unsmiling Evan as my production partner enters the tent.
“What is it?” I ask, sitting on the edge of the table. “Something with the permits? The housing in Santa Barbara?”
“The permits are fine,” Evan says, his dark frown not lightening. “And we have cottages for the cast and crew at that resort Galaxy practically bought out for us.”
“Good. Then why you look like somebody pissed in your cornflakes?”
“Jill, could you excuse us?” Evan asks, not acknowledging my joke.
“Uh, sure.” Jill flashes a look that says what have you done now, but I have no clue.
Once it’s just the two of us, I shrug. “Dude, what’s up?”
“What’s up is Camille Hensley telling the whole world on a podcast twenty minutes ago that you’re fucking another one of your actresses.”
He hurls the accusation—because it clearly is one—at me with narrowed eyes and hands shoved into his jeans.
Damn you, Sylvia Miller.
It was too much to hope Camille’s publicist wouldn’t recount seeing Neevah and me together, but why is Camille in my business? And so publicly?
“Nothing to say?” Evan asks, his voice tight. “I distinctly remember us agreeing you wouldn’t do this again.”
“Nothing is going on that will affect this movie, Evan.”
“Whatever is going on already has. Camille’s comments call Neevah’s talent and ability into question before the world has seen one minute of this film.”
A long, tired sigh jets between my lips. “What did she say exactly?”
“The podcaster asked if there was a role she regretted turning down, and she said there was a role recently she wanted badly but wasn’t even allowed to audition for.”
I groan, sinking my head into my hands.
“Of course, since Camille can write her ticket in this town right now, they asked who would dare turn down the opportunity to work with her.”
“And of course, she seized the chance to put my business in the streets.”
“Why is there business, Canon? First of all, we agreed you’d keep your dick away from the actresses.”
“Stop making me sound like some lecher taking advantage of my position to get some ass. You know I don’t do that.”
“In this current climate, no one takes that for granted, especially when the actress in question doesn’t have one movie on IMBD. You’re the one with all the power, and she’d be the one who wanted the big break and was willing to do whatever it took to get it.”
“It’s not like that.” I slam my teeth shut on the words. “What else did Camille say?”
“That if you were just going to give the role to someone you’re dating, she didn’t understand why you wouldn’t at least give her a chance. And that she heard Galaxy had serious concerns about an unknown carrying a blockbuster biopic like this, but that you overrode their concerns, threatening to walk away if they didn’t cave and cast your new girlfriend.”
There’s just enough truth in there to render the reality insignificant.
“Law Stone from Galaxy called, of course,” Evan says, his stare boring a hole in my face.
“And?”
“And he wants you to address it.”
“What? Go on some late-night show and apologize for something that’s nobody’s business but the two consenting adults involved? Nope. The hell if I’ll be their dancing monkey out there saying I’m sorry for something I shouldn’t have to apologize for. I don’t owe them shit.”
“And me? You don’t owe me shit? We’re supposed to be partners. Friends. In this together.”
“You know we are.”
“But you let me get blindsided by this. Egg on my fucking face, caught flat-footed with that moron Stone calling me, demanding explanations.”
“He wants explanations so bad, why didn’t he call me himself?”
Evan rolls his eyes. We both know Lawson Stone couldn’t buy the balls to roll up on me like that. He knows what he’d get.
“That’s what I thought,” I say, slumping into a chair and tugging at my mouth, trying to figure this out.
“Maybe you don’t go on late-night shows, but—”
“No maybe to it. That’s not happening.”
“But we’ve had a closed set, with few exceptions. Maybe we allow a few entertainment reporters on set. Do a few cast interviews. Leak some behind-the-scenes footage of the cast laughing together. Some shots of us filming and them seeing Neevah work like anyone else.”
“She doesn’t work like anyone else. She works harder than everyone else, and you know it. New or not, she is carrying this film. She was the right choice.”
“Agreed. I think she’s gonna blow everyone away. That’s what I want to protect, so can we at least consider some onset stuff? Just behind the scenes, seeing them in costume, some B roll of dance numbers. Nothing too specific, but giving glimpses of how big this is gonna be, and drop some hints of just how good Neevah is. Why she earned this with her talent. Not addressing it directly, but retaking control of the narrative.”
I blow out a breath and, after a few tense seconds, nod.
“When did this happen?” he asks. “Can you at least tell me that?”
“When did what happen?”
His look is wry and knowing.
“I’ve been attracted to her since the beginning,” I admit grudgingly. “But kept my distance as much as I could. Over Thanksgiving we ended up in the same restaurant for dinner, and just connected.”
“So that’s when the affair started?”
“Stop making it sound seedy, and no. New Year’s, we went away to Santa Barbara.”
“So when I talked to you on your way up there, she was with you?”
I nod and he aims one accusing finger at me. “So you lied.”
“Can we do this later? The cast and crew know all of this yet? Heard the podcast?”
“It’s making its way through the grapevine now. Of course, the actors leave their phones in their trailers, but now that we’ve wrapped for the day, I’m sure they all know or will soon.”
Neevah, baby, I’m so sorry.
“I need to see her.” I stand abruptly. “Everyone will be acting weird and speculating. Shit.”
“Where are you going?”
“To try to catch her before she leaves. Kenneth’s meeting with them about the new protocols for shooting on location.”
“I’ll work on connecting with a few of the entertainment shows.”
“I need to sign off on anyone who’s coming to my set. I’m not playing, Evan. This foolishness is not messing with the chemistry we have or anything we’ve spent so much time building.”
“Got it,” he says, his expression finally yielding just a little bit. “And hey. In the grand scheme of things, this is just a PR speed bump. We’ll be fine.”
But is Neevah?
