The first week passed as any other week, with the exception of Amy having
to tell her boss at the coffee shop near the University that she had to
quit. He took it pretty well,
considering the short notice, and gave her a dubious expression when she
told him she had landed a role in a
movie. That, in NYC, was the
most common excuse for being a flake.
Or so he
said.
Studying the script was fun for Amy.
Not so much for Renee, due to the fact Amy refused to read her
any part of
it.
Amy had qualms with certain aspects of the character she played, such as
her tendency toward insensitivity and the fact that she practically threw
herself at the lead hero - Cloud - instead of staying true to an existing
relationship with a young man by the name of
Zack. Amy forced herself to
excuse the girl, though. After
all, Zack had been missing for nearly 5 years when Aeris met
Cloud. The girl was probably
lonely. And people would do normally out-of-character things when
that was the
case.
The Sephiroth character intrigued Amy.
She felt torn on whether to consider him a true villain or a tortured
soul. After all, he had been
used and abused, his soul twisted and tainted with untruths about who and
what he was. How does a person
handle something like that?
Amy could see the reasoning behind the character's desire to control
and rule the world. After what
he had suffered through his 30-something life, that form of control would
probably be the only way to give him some semblance of sanity and
stability.
The Monday morning of the second week, Amy dressed in Levis and a nice pale-pink
cable sweater her mom had made the Christmas Amy had left for New
York. Then she gathered her
script and rain jacket, strapped her purse across herself, made sure she
had her bus fare in hand, and announced to Renee that she was heading toward
the studio early. Renee mumbled
something while on the way into the bathroom for a shower and then closed
the door firmly behind her. Amy
chuckled and locked the apartment after her before making her way to the
elevator and then the street
outside.
“Good morning, Miss Burke,” the doorman
greeted.
“Good morning, Edward,” she greeted the tall and thin man in his
late thirties. “How are
you?”
“Doing well, Miss Burke.
Yourself?”
“Good. Thank
you.”
“Off to the bus
stop?”
Amy looked at the rain and grimaced.
“Yes, and it looks like I’m going to get
soaked.” She slipped into
her rain coat and then gave Edward another smile as she raised the
hood. “See you
later.”
The bus was actually on time, which Amy couldn’t understand because
of the rain, and dropped her off in front of the studios a full five minutes
before the expected time. Traffic
had been surprisingly light, with the bus only being honked at
once. It’s bound to
be a good morning, even with the
rain. Which had stopped
a few minutes before arriving at the front gate of the
studio.
Amy stepped off the bus, missed the puddle with a smile at her good fortune,
and then headed toward the front gate.
As expected, she was stopped by the security guard
there.
“State your name,” he ordered as he retrieved his
clipboard.
“Amy Burke,” she offered as she opened her purse and dug out her
ID.
“You’re not on the
list.”
Amy looked up. “Excuse
me?”
“The list.” He lifted
the clipboard for her to see.
“You’re not on
it.”
“Oh. I take it that if
I’m not on the list, I don’t get
in.”
The security guard stepped back into his
booth. “You got
it.”
“Hmm. Well this is certainly
a predicament. I needed to talk
to Mr. Shepherd
about--”
“Throwing names around won’t impress me,
Miss. Move
along.”
Amy placed her ID back into its appropriate
slot. “You don’t need
to be rude about it,” she told him.
“I’m just telling you what the problem is so you could offer
me a suggestion on how to fix
it.”
“Come back when you’re on the list,” he told her with crossed
arms.
Amy made a face. “Now why
didn’t I think of
that?” She turned away with a frown, a shake of her head, and
a “for pete’s
sake.”
A familiar red Corvette pulled up, squealing to a stop with all the grandeur
and attitude expected of an action-flick hero who believed himself to be
God’s answer to Adonis. Mark
stepped out of the sports car, tossed the keys to the studio attendant that
appeared, and then made his way toward
Amy.
“Hey there, you. What’s
the
matter?”
Amy forced the frown away. “Nothing really.
They just won’t let me in.
I’m not on the list of expected guests
today.”
“If you’re not on the list, what are you doing here?” Mark
asked as he came to stand by
her.
“I’m a little nervous about one of my
scenes. I wanted to talk to
the director about
it.”
Mark gestured back to the security gate.
They headed toward it, Amy falling into step beside
him. “Which
one?”
“The death
scene.”
“Oh. Yeah, I can see why
you’d be nervous.” Mark
glanced over at her.
“I’m sure Shepherd will put a stunt double in for
you.”
Amy met his gaze. “But
it’s a head-on shot.
Otherwise the dramatic effect is
lost. You can’t do that
with a stunt
double.”
“Hmm.” They arrived
at the security gate. “Mark
Fraiser.”
The security guard checked the list.
“ID.”
Mark pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his black jeans and showed
the appropriate
ID.
“You’re clear.” He
pointed at Amy.
“You’re not. Move
along.”
Amy frowned. Mark did
too. “Look, mister, she’s
with me. I don’t care about
your rules. She’s got a
question--”
“I don’t care,” the security guard interrupted with a shake
of his head. He crossed his
arms. “She’s not on
the list. She doesn’t go
in.”
Mark swore as he pulled a cell phone off his
hip. “We’ll see about
that damn list.” He hit
the speed dial and brought the tiny phone up to his
ear. “Yo,
Shepherd. Some ass here at the
security gate won’t let Amy in because of some damned list… Yes,
I know shooting isn’t scheduled for another week, but that’s not
why she’s here… What do you mean you don’t have time for anything
outside the schedule?… Sure I get that, but--… I know--…
Fine. Be an
ass.” Mark disconnected
and jammed the phone back into his hip
holster. “Sorry,
Amy. No can
do. Shepherd’s anal about
his schedules. I forgot about
that.”
Amy smiled. “It’s
okay, Mark. I appreciate the
effort. I’ll just go home
and try and come up with some different ideas on how to do the scene without
dying.”
Mark smirked. “I used to
do some stunt work myself. In
fact, I’m doing my stunts in this
flick. If you want, I could
come over and give you some pointers or
something.”
I’m sure you could. “That’s
alright. You’ve got enough
on your plate without having to baby-sit the
newbie. Thanks for the offer,
though.” Amy gestured toward
the studio beyond the gate.
“You better get going.
I don’t want to be black-balled because I held you
up.
Mark chuckled.
“Yeah. I’d
be heart broken, because I couldn’t see you
anymore.”
Amy’s lips twitched.
“I’ll see you later,
Mark. And thanks again for
trying.”
“Sure
thing.”
Amy turned and walked away, very conscious of Mark’s appreciative
examination of her retreat.
Oh well. Where there
are chicks, there are wolves.
She snickered at the good joke and sat at the bus stop
bench. Wolves and flirts and
teases had long ago become expected and dealt with in truly unique
‘Amy’ fashion. Quite
simply, she ignored them. Not
so much their entire person, just their obvious lines or
come-ons. She treated them as
a person, and that was it. It
had been the best way to keep from making
enemies. Instead, she gained friends, which were more important
than anything else. At least
in Amy’s
opinion.
Amy pulled her script onto her lap to open it to the last scene, nibbling
her lower lip as she read and reread what she had already written in the
margins. The more she thought
about the scene, the more she knew that she would be better off if she
did talk to Mark about it.
I just won’t invite him over to my
apartment. We’ll do it
in a less personal setting.
Renee would be irritated if she ever found out that Mark Frasier had
been denied the opportunity to come over, but what she didn’t know
wouldn’t hurt
her.
There was a door slam and Amy looked up.
She smiled. “Good
morning, Mr. Harrison. Lovely
drive today, I
hope.”
Mr. Harrison halted his progress around the roadster with an expression of
mild surprise. “Miss
Burke? I don’t recall seeing
your name on the schedule for this
morning.”
Amy grimaced as she set the script beside
her. “So I found out the
hard
way.”
Mr. Harrison finished pulling off his driving gloves as he made his way toward
her. He was wearing yet another
pair of flattering Docker-type slacks and what was likely a Ralph Lauren
Polo cable-knit sweater of emerald
green. The crisp white collar of his freshly pressed Perry Ellis
shirt peaked up over the ‘crew’
neck.
Wow.
“Was there a problem?” he
asked.
“I had a question about my final scene,” she confessed as he came
to stand in front of her. He
smelled of Hugo Boss, always a favorite of Amy’s when it came to
men. “I have to say I’m
more than a little
nervous.”
Mr. Harrison sat on the bench beside her after taking up the
script. “I believe I understand
the hesitation,” he said as he flipped through the pages in search of
the mentioned
scene.
“Mark said something about a stunt double, but that would take away
from the dramatic effect.”
Mr. Harrison found the scene, and Amy leaned toward him slightly to
point to the appropriate section on the
page.
“See? The culmination
of action and conflict up to that point just screams for a dramatic
death. If we put in a stunt
double…” Amy shook
her head as she pulled herself back.
“It will ruin the entire
scene.”
Mr. Harrison adjusted the script in his hands, apparently reading the notes
Amy had written within the margins. “What are
these?”
“Oh.” Amy flushed
and reached out to take the script.
“Just notes to myself.
It’s
nothing.”
Mr. Harrison pulled the script out of her
reach. “Hmm,” he commented
absently.
“Interesting.”
Amy gnawed her lower lip. Then
Mr. Harrison closed the script and handed it to
her. “Thank
you.” She self-consciously adjusted it on her
lap. “Anyway, I thought
maybe I should take some stunt classes or
something. That way Mr. Shepherd
doesn’t lose anything in the delivery of the
scene.” Amy finally raised
her gaze to meet his. She
smiled. “I don’t want
you to look bad, either. After
all, you… suggested me for this
role.”
Mr. Harrison’s lips twitched
upward.
“Yes. So I
recall.” He gestured to
the script. “Continue to
study what is written, Miss Burke.
In the mean time, I will ask Max what he had in
mind. Believe me, I would rather
not risk life and limb simply for the performance of a
scene.”
Amy’s smile broadened.
“No, I don’t suppose you
would. Mr. Shepherd would be
a little peeved if the villain and the ‘sacrificial lamb’
died at the
climax.”
Mr. Harrison chuckled, and Amy found it a luscious
baritone. Then he
stood. “When your time
comes to perform, Max and myself require
110%. I suggest that, until
then, you enjoy your respite from the grueling shooting
schedule.”
Amy nodded, looking into his handsome face with an absent
smile. “I
will.”
Mr. Harrison gave a slight bow, his eyes still twinkling as his lips twitched
upward. “Good morning,
Miss Burke, and enjoy your ride
back.”
He moved away toward the security gate, Amy staring after him with a continued
smile. Nice
man. Very nice
man.
*