6. Aspen
Chapter 6
Aspen
F airview Ridge was filmed in a single soundstage with the same cast and crew for pretty much the entirety of seven years. So walking out of the hair and makeup trailer for the first day of Golden Hour filming is petrifying. It doesn’t help that the film is mostly going to be filmed on location, and today is no exception.
It’s blindingly bright outside, and the Rodeo Drive asphalt is only reflecting and amplifying the rays. After my eyes adjust as much as possible, I’m able to see the full extent of the set, which has only grown since I entered the hair and makeup trailer an hour ago. Dozens of techs are walking this way and that, talking into headsets or walkie-talkies. Extras turn their heads to look at me from where they’re milling around the craft services table, munching on chips, fruit, cupcakes, and sandwiches. Camera operators are busy adjusting their lenses or angles, sound technicians are busy with microphones and booms, and lighting technicians are busy experimenting with different lighting plans.
I check my phone and realize I still have fifteen minutes until I’m due on set, so I decide to go to my trailer. The chaos of the set is only worsening my nerves, so I could certainly use some peace and quiet to meditate for the few free minutes I have left before we start. As I’m walking toward my trailer, I notice something black by the door. I assume it’s just a package or something and continue my approach, only realizing it’s a coiled-up snake when I’ve already climbed the first step to the door.
I scream bloody murder and jump so high I lose my balance and fall off the step, landing ass-first on the sidewalk behind me.
“Holy shit!” I shriek.
“What’s wrong?” a crew member asks, rushing up to me.
Soon I’m surrounded by concerned staff who help me to my feet. My arm hurts a little but I hardly register the sting with all of the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
“What happened?” the one to my right asks.
My voice shakes as I respond. “There’s a snake. Right by my door, there’s a snake.”
Everyone’s eyes go wide, looking between me and the snake at my door.
“I’ll scare it off,” a particularly brave sound tech says. He approaches my door cautiously, holding out the metal end of the sound boom as a weapon.
The rest of us look on with bated breath. My shoulders cringe up toward my ears as the end of his boom nears the snake, slow enough not to spook it. Then all of the sudden, he whips the boom through the air, sliding the snake off the stairs in one fell swoop.
It plops onto the pavement, still coiled up. Then I realize the bottom is flat, not coiled as the top was.
“It’s fake,” the sound tech reports.
The crowd releases a collective sigh and begins muttering among each other as they disperse.
“Pretty funny, huh?” Grey asks, sauntering up to me
I turn toward him, furiously. “You put that there?”
“Yeah.” His dark eyes search mine and soften at the edges. “You don’t have a snake phobia or something, do you?”
“You’re such a dick,” I reply, barely containing my fury. “No, I don’t have a phobia, but a snake would scare anyone . Why the fuck would you put that there? Is it funny to you to watch me embarrass myself in front of the entire crew on the first day of filming? Is that what you wanted?” I ask, gesticulating wildly.
“Whoa, Aspen, your arm,” Grey says, reaching out to grab me.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss, withdrawing my arm from his reach.
“You’re bleeding.”
I look down at my arm and realize that I skinned my elbow on the concrete when I fell, and a singular drop of blood is running down my arm. “I’m fine. But you better hope hair and makeup can fix this, because I’m supposed to be in this flimsy thing all day.” I motion down at the skimpy pink cotton sundress I was assigned to wear today, before storming off back to the hair and makeup trailer.
“Aspen,” Grey says, following alongside me. “I didn’t mean for you to hurt yourself, I swear.”
I pick up my pace, almost jogging now. I’m practically seeing red and all I know right now is that I need to get away from Grey before I say or do something I regret. I keep replaying Willow’s advice in my head. Don’t let him get to you , I tell myself.
“Aspen,” he repeats, reaching out a hand toward me.
“I said, don’t fucking touch me,” I repeat, stopping in my tracks and facing him. So much for keeping my cool.
He raises his hands in defeat. “Sorry, I won’t. I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, it was just a harmless prank?—”
“So you just wanted me to embarrass myself in front of everyone on the first day of filming?”
“No, not at all. It was supposed to be funny. It was just a joke, I thought you’d jump for a second then realize it was fake. I didn’t think it would scare you this bad. I’m sorry.”
“Grey, just leave me alone. Seriously.”
His broad shoulders droop. “Fine.”
Thankfully, the makeup team has a bandage large enough to fit on my elbow, and Jack assures me that the team can easily use CGI to edit out the bandage in post-production. A few minutes after making sure I’m okay, Jack calls for the cast to gather on set. We begin to run through the delivery of a few specific lines before we begin blocking the day’s scene. My anxiety melts away on set as I slip into Rosie’s shoes. The rest of the day flies by with my mind focused on Rosie’s emotions instead of my own.
Jack prefers to block, rehearse, and film scenes all in a single day—a directorial strategy called ‘day shooting.’ While the scenes can get repetitive, this method makes sure that every movement and inflection is fine-tuned. I learned through my experience with the rotating directors on Fairview Ridge that day shooting is my favorite, so I feel right at home with Jack Mack’s style. My inner-perfectionist loves being able to focus on a single scene for an extended amount of time, and then clear it from my mind to make room for the next day’s scene.