Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
EMILY
I winced. That last line had been atrocious. I looked at Charles, standing behind the video monitor in a sweater of a reindeer vomiting.
“Sorry. Can I try that again?”
Charles’ eyes shut briefly before he yelled “Cut!” and pulled his headphones off his dark-brown bald head. “Emily, can I have a word?”
I headed over, tugging at my collar. It was unseasonably warm today, the blue cloudless skies providing no protection from the sun’s rays, and I was sweating in the thick coat, gloves, scarf and beanie provided by the wardrobe department.
Nerves at being back in front of the camera for the first time since Clique probably weren’t helping either.
Charles stepped over to the side of the large red barn and I followed, my heart pumping.
Was I actually terrible? Was he regretting taking a chance on me?
So far, he seemed a little abrupt, but it might just be stress.
With the original actor breaking her ankle, the preferred set being overrun with bats, and the assistant director being struck down with pneumonia resulting in Charles having to do the role of director and assistant director, it couldn’t be easy.
At least there were no volatile mood swings, no screaming, no…
I shuddered. Stop thinking about Phillip.
Charles rubbed his forehead. “Emily, I appreciate your dedication to getting each scene just right, but you’re going to have to lower your standards.
This is a HolLove movie. We’re not aiming for Oscar-winning performances here.
We don’t have the time to do multiple takes for each scene.
You’ve been nailing it first time anyway. ”
My eyes widened. He thinks I’m nailing it?
That meant a lot, coming from him. Charles had directed a number of critically acclaimed films in the nineties.
I wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up working with HolLove.
He had to be in his sixties now, perhaps he was winding down to retirement.
Although the budget constraints and compressed filming schedule meant that his job wasn’t easygoing. HolLove were notoriously demanding.
“Sorry.” I resisted the urge to run my hand through my hair, not wanting to ruin the stylist’s good work. “I just want to make sure I’m capturing her emotional state. I guess I’m not clear if she’d still be grieving her grandparents or if she’s excited at the challenge of turning the farm around?”
Charles rubbed the salt and pepper stubble on his chin. “Since this is HolLove, I’d keep it light. We want her to be bubbly and likable. Let’s not delve too much into her inner psyche. Okay?”
Delving into inner psyches was one of my favorite things about acting, but at least he hadn’t dismissed my question completely. “I can do that.”
“Good.” Charles glanced down at his watch. “We need to shoot another twelve scenes today, which means we only have time for one retake at the most. It doesn’t need to be perfect.”
“Understood.” I ignored the tightness in my chest. If it wasn’t perfect, would I land another role after this one?
“I know you don’t have time now, but it would be good to talk about the ending at some point.
I’m just wondering if it’s quite right that Molly would give up on all her dreams to be a housewife?
It seems a little… regressive. Don’t you think it would be better if she kept running the farm herself and turned into a successful businesswoman? ”
Dana’s comment about the ending of the movie had been ringing in my head since yesterday.
I swallowed. Dana’s film critique wasn’t the only thing occupying my mind.
The feel of her strong arms around me as she pulled me out of the fir.
Dana chopping wood, her biceps rippling as she lifted the axe above her head in one powerful, smooth move.
The memories kept flashing into my mind at the most inopportune moments…
like right now. I refocused my attention on Charles.
Was he clenching his jaw? Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything.
“Look, Emily. I know you’re just trying to make the best movie you can, but not only do we not have time to film additional takes, we also don’t have time to rewrite the entire ending of the movie. We’ve already had to rewrite the Thanksgiving scene because of budgetary constraints.”
I frowned. “You have?”
“Yes. The child actors were going to be too expensive. You should be getting the revised script this afternoon.”
My heart plummeted. The Thanksgiving scene was meant to be filmed on Saturday. When was I going to find the time between now and then to learn and practice my new lines?
“I see. Okay.”
Charles clapped his hands. “Excellent. Let’s get back to it then.”
I made my way back to the dirt road in front of the barn, where my truck was parked, repositioning myself to continue the scene.
“Take three,” Charles yelled.
I launched back into my lines. Shit, did I over-emphasize the word ‘'farm’? Just keep going, Emily. It doesn’t need to be perfect. Phillip would never have said that. He always wanted perfection. My stomach crawled.
Once the scene was done, Charles caught my eye and nodded with what I was pretty sure was approval.
“We’ll break for lunch now,” he called. “Just thirty minutes, everyone.”
As I made my way to my trailer, the tension in my chest loosened.
It felt… good to be back on set again, bringing a character to life.
Even if I couldn’t do quite as many takes as I’d like and the plot wasn’t perfect.
Inside my trailer, I threw my coat on the couch and grabbed my phone off the side table.
I sighed. Yet another missed call from the same number.
I scanned the notifications. They’d left a voice mail as well.
What scam would it be this time? A pre-recorded voice trying to convince me to click on a sketchy link or transfer money to their bank account? Only one way to find out.
Hi Emily, I hope you’re well. My name is Rebecca Maguire.
I’m a journalist who is writing an article on Phillip Weatherstone and I’m interested in talking to you.
Could you please give me a call when you’re free?
Or I’m happy to arrange to meet in person if that would be more convenient for you.
Please just let me know. Thanks for listening.
A reporter wanted to talk to me about Phillip?
I clutched my stomach. Oh god, was I going to be sick? I stepped out of the trailer and took a deep breath of cool air, my heart thumping.
Why did she want to talk about him? Was she writing a puff piece about what an amazing director he was? If so, I wanted nothing to do with it. Yes, he was good at his job but there was no way I was going to say a positive word publicly about that man.
Deep breaths, Emily.
I focused on the scene in front of me. The cast and crew were making their way to the catering tables, chatting and laughing.
From what I’d gathered, most of them had worked on other HolLove films together before.
It was hard to not feel like the odd person out, especially when I knew I hadn’t been the first choice for the role.
The door of the neighboring trailer opened and Austin appeared.
“Are you okay?” he asked. Perfectly tanned with bright white teeth, blond hair, and just the right degree of rugged, my co-star was one of HolLove Channel’s favorites.
He’d been a child actor in the nineties before making a name for himself as a holiday movie star.
While it was too hot for the thick coat I’d been dressed in, it was definitely far too cold for the t-shirt Austin was currently wearing, a tight one that showed off his ripped physique.
“I’m fine.” I managed a smile. I’d gone two years without talking about what happened. I wasn’t about to start now.
“The pace takes a bit of getting used to, especially given your history.”
I blinked. History? What did he mean? Did he know what happened?
He couldn’t. Apart from Phillip, only Cat and Brittany knew. And they were sworn to secrecy.
Austin walked closer. “You know, with you filming prestige TV and blockbuster movies. I’m sure you’re used to things running a bit differently.”
Oh, right. Of course. I exhaled.
“It’s definitely a bit of an adjustment.”
“What have you been doing recently?” he asked, tilting his head. “I don’t remember seeing you in anything for a while. Have you been doing theater?”
“No.” I shifted on my feet. “I had a bit of a break from the camera, but I’m very happy to be back on set again.”
“This industry can be soul-sucking,” he said, leaning against my trailer.
“I don’t blame you. Hope your reintroduction goes smoothly.
” He leaned forward, bringing a waft of cologne with him.
“If you ever want to talk through anything, just let me know. Oh, did Charles mention they rewrote the Thanksgiving scene? It’s pretty last minute given we’re filming on Saturday, but that’s HolLove for you.
Hey, we could run lines tonight if you want? Might help us learn them more quickly.”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know once I’ve read the script.”
All I wanted to do when filming wrapped today was to go back to my Airbnb, make myself a hot chocolate and snuggle under the covers with the new script, playing Mariah’s Christmas album on repeat, until I forgot about Phillip and the journalist’s voicemail.