Chapter 6 #4
‘I…’ I want to tell David it’s not a big deal, but the blue-haired girl with the eyebrow piercings gives me a warning look and David just holds his hand up to silence me until he’s finished barking instructions, then arranges his features into a calmer expression and meets my eye.
‘I’m so sorry, Lara,’ he says, shifting now into the placating tone he’s been mostly using with me.
It makes me feel like I’m in preschool again.
‘If you wouldn’t mind going back into your trailer, there’ll be someone here shortly.
’ Then before I can go back into my trailer, he starts talking again. And when I hear him, my stomach sinks.
‘I have half a mind to fire someone over this. Who was on costumes?’
‘Harrison, I think,’ the blue-haired girl says.
‘Harrison, huh? Of course it was fucking Harrison. Well, Harrison,’ he says back into his microphone. ‘Your daddy might have got you your job here, but he’s not around to help you now.’
He marches off and I walk back through the door of my trailer, feeling very sorry for Harrison, whoever he is.
I know that this is how things work – that everything on-set has to run as smoothly as possible. That it’s their job to make sure I have no delays so that I can do my job properly, in as few takes as possible, and Production don’t have to pay overtime on the already ridiculous cost of the project.
But I have to wonder: if a mistake as seemingly minor as this can cause such a furore, what happens if I fuck up?
And a small, insecure part of me pipes up and tells me that, given the conversation I just overheard, I already know the answer to that question – the solution is blonde and beautiful, and currently dating Avi. Stop it, Lara, I think.
I swallow, then head across the room to distract myself before the costume assistant arrives.
I examine the rest of the contents of the table: a large, white bouquet with pink gardenias from Alessandro – a gesture that makes my heart pinch now, because the confidence he expressed to me on the phone clearly isn’t shared by everyone; some orange roses from Nat, and, at the back, the sunflowers, with a card attached.
I assume they’re from Alison and my parents – that, somehow, she got in contact with Nat to arrange to have them and Freddie here.
I pick up the card and am about to open it when I notice something else: a small, brown shoebox in the middle of the table. I lift the lid and, as I do, a smell reaches me that turns my stomach.
What the fuck?
But I don’t have time to think beyond that, because then I see what’s inside.
And I start screaming.
I throw the box to one side, the contents spilling out. Freddie Mercury and the card I’m holding fall to the floor, and before I know it I’m pressed against the back wall of the trailer, climbing onto a chair.
Oh, my God, Oh, my God, Oh, my God. This is not happening. You’re sleep-deprived and you’re hallucinating.
The door to my trailer bursts open and I think it’s going to be David, or the blue-haired girl, or another runner.
But it’s not. It’s Avi, breathless and half-dressed in his costume. His buttons undone, waistcoat hanging open. Chest bare and perfect for the world to see.
‘Lara?’ he says, taking in my position, eyes wide and confused. ‘What the fuck is going on?’
I can’t find words in this moment, can’t even find surprise that he’s here. I’m frozen in fear, shaking on the chair I’m standing on. All I can do is point in the direction of the box that’s still lying open on the table. Its contents splayed next to it.
He walks over to examine it and flinches slightly, stepping backwards. But before I can tell him to stop, he approaches again. Picking it up. Holding it by the tip of its tail.
A dead rat.
‘Put that down!’ I say, unable to look in his direction. I can’t believe what’s happening right now. Avi Kumar, in my trailer, swinging around a rat corpse.
‘Don’t touch it, Avi,’ I plead, partly so I don’t have to look at it any more. ‘It might be diseased.’
But he’s not listening. A look has come over his face that I recognise: determination. Anger. He flips the lid of the box with his other hand and reads the card I neglected to open.
To Amelia, from your co-star, Roman. So looking forward to working with you.
Avi turns to me, the rat still swinging from his hand. Eyes blazing, so he looks more than a little deranged.
‘I’m going to fucking kill him,’ he says, then moves to the door of my trailer before I can stop him and kicks it open.
I scramble down from the chair and follow him blindly, grabbing at the door before it can close.
‘Avi,’ I say, my voice desperate. ‘Avi, stop.’ I’m seriously panicked now. Because I’ve seen him like this once before, when a guy felt me up across the bar. And it didn’t end well.
The blue-haired runner has caught sight of what’s happening and looks appropriately horrified.
‘Avi leaving Lara’s trailer. Avi holding… something.’ She looks a little closer. ‘Unidentified animal corpse. Repeat, Avi holding unidentified animal corpse.’
Avi stalks down the row of trailers, checking the names on each before reaching the right one. I follow him and so does the runner. ‘Avi and Lara approaching Roman’s trailer. Avi entering Roman’s trailer, with corpse.’
‘Avi,’ I say again desperately, as he yanks open the door. I try to place my hand on his arm before he can enter, but he shakes it off.
‘Stay outside,’ he says to me firmly.
Fuck that, I think, as the door swings shut in my face. I pull it open and follow him in.
Roman’s trailer is a confusing mirror of mine. He is sitting in an armchair a few metres from the door, in full costume, apparently unfazed by what’s happening. His hand idly playing with one of the tassels on his waistcoat.
‘Good morning,’ he says, his tone light and bemused.
‘What.’ Avi is practically spitting now. ‘The fuck. Is this?’
Roman squints at it. ‘I’m not sure,’ he says. ‘Could you bring it a little closer?’
Avi lets out a shaky, furious breath. ‘I’ll do more than that in a minute if you don’t tell my why the fuck this was in Lara’s trailer, in a box with your name on it.’
‘Avi,’ I say. ‘Please… let’s just leave it—’
Avi throws his hand up to stop me talking. Roman peers around him, now apparently interested in my presence.
‘Hello, Amelia. Wonderful to make your acquaintance. I see you received my gift.’ Amelia? Is this guy okay? I mean, clearly not, if he’s putting dead rats in my trailer. Then he laughs. And this is it – the trigger that pushes Avi over the edge.
‘Listen here,’ Avi says, walking slowly over to Roman.
Holding the rat extremely close to his face.
I’ve got to give it to Roman; he doesn’t even flinch.
Either those method-acting rumours are true or he is actually a psychopath.
‘You might think it’s funny to fuck with other people on-set.
To scare the shit out of them so when the cameras turn on you don’t have to do anything.
Whatever you need, so you don’t have to actually do any acting.
Right?’ He moves even closer now and Roman’s smile widens.
‘I’ll tolerate it, Roman. I’ve done it before.
Put as many dead rats in my trailer as you like, if that’s what gets you through the day.
If that’s what convinces you you’re anything other than a talentless piece of shit who seems to genuinely enjoy upsetting other people.
But if you ever do anything like this to Lara again, I swear to God I will end you. ’
‘Ooh,’ he says. ‘Careful, Jackson. Anger doesn’t suit you.’
Avi looks back at me, his expression so far past anger he looks almost… calm.
‘Lara,’ he says. ‘Will you please wait outside?’
I shake my head slowly, unable to speak but also unwilling to leave.
I get the sense that my presence is the only thing blocking a physical altercation right now.
I take a breath, trying to find the words to defuse this.
I may be new to film sets like this, but something tells me starting the day with a punch-up between co-stars isn’t exactly ideal.
But, thank God, I don’t have to intervene. Because a few seconds later there’s a loud, impatient knock at the door.
‘Everything alright in there?’ David’s voice sounds lightly panicked but glossed over with a soothing tone.
‘Everything’s fine,’ Avi calls back, not moving from his position over Roman.
‘Avi,’ I say, recovering myself and moving over to him. I place a hand on his arm – the one not holding the rat. ‘Avi, look at me.’
He turns to me, his eyes still burning.
‘It’s not worth it,’ I say. And he lets out a breath, his shoulder dropping slightly. Seeming to recover something of his composure. But I still don’t feel like he is hearing me completely.
‘Please,’ I say, desperately trying to de-escalate.
‘Can we just focus on what’s important, right now?
It’s my first day on a big set, and I need to get into my costume so we don’t miss our call time.
I really don’t want to have to tell Alessandro we’re late because we were in the middle of World War Three. ’
He turns back to Roman with a look of disgust on his face so potent I’m surprised it doesn’t wither him on the spot.
And then, before I can register what’s happening, or reach to stop him, he lets go of the rat, dropping it into Roman’s lap.
I flinch, expecting a reaction. But all that happens is Roman looks at it curiously, then – in a move that sends bile up my throat – starts caressing it, gently.
‘Pretty little thing,’ he says, turning to me. ‘Isn’t it? I’ve always thought rats were such misunderstood creatures.’
And despite Avi’s speech, I’ve really got to give it to this guy – in the last five minutes he’s ensured I’m not going to be able to feel anything but fear and revulsion every time I see his face.
I’m beginning to understand all the articles I read about him.
Why there are so many whispered warnings throughout the industry about working with him.
‘Fuck you, Roman,’ Avi says, walking towards the door. I follow him and he pulls it open.
‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance!’ Roman calls after us brightly, before the door swings shut. David is waiting halfway down the stairs, looking incredibly startled. A crowd of runners have gathered behind him, ready for instruction – like a small, stressed army.
‘How are my two stars doing?’ he says cheerfully, his eye twitching slightly.
Avi lets out a breath. ‘Great, thanks, David.’ And he moves past him down the steps, walking back towards his trailer, followed closely by a small platoon of the assembled runners.
Avi’s shoulders are still set like he’s about to punch something; they don’t drop even as he enters his trailer.
I watch him as he does so, deciding not to follow.
‘Lara,’ David says, turning back to me once he’s sure Avi is safely back in situ. ‘There’s someone from Costumes in your trailer. And we’re a few minutes behind, so if you wouldn’t mind—’
‘Oh, sure,’ I say, and descend the steps in a daze.
Another runner takes me back. I move as quickly as I can, but time feels like it’s moving strangely.
Like I’m walking through quicksand or some kind of strange soup.
The world around me feels just a little less real than before.
I ascend the stairs to my trailer and pull the door open.
But just before I go inside, I hear David’s voice from behind.
‘Now will someone please tell me,’ he says, speaking into his radio, his voice quietly threatening, ‘what the fuck you meant by “unidentified animal corpse”?’