Chapter Twenty Filming the Scene #3
Then Jack said, “Craig, can I get you to start at the head of the boardwalk and then work your way down? Don’t look at the camera. Don’t look at me—look straight ahead. Pretend we’re not here. The camera will pull back ahead of you. Don’t overtake it. Understand?”
“Yeah,” I said.
I’d been filmed dancing on a boardwalk before, but the energy had been different. It had been three of us from the same company in the summer. We’d had a blast riffing off each other. This time, the director was pissed off, it was cold, and I was dancing alone.
Eddie stood off to the side, watching me, and that made me feel better.
Then Edgar sidled up to him with a nasty smile, and said something.
Eddie said something back, and Edgar laughed.
Not like it was funny. More like he’d scored a point.
I hated that Edgar knew what Eddie’s kink was, and I didn’t.
“Craig,” said Jack. “Look at me.”
Then he called action. I’d never been sharp coming out of the gate. Jack had me do my routine right down the boardwalk before he stopped me.
“You’re squinting, Craig,” said Jack, “Have we got sunglasses?”
Someone from the crew came over and gave me a pair. They looked expensive.
“Take it from the top again, Craig,” said Jack.
I walked back to where I’d started and went through the routine again, sharper this time, but not quite up to code.
This time, Jack let me go longer before he stopped me and told me to do it again.
The third time was even better, and I made it as far as the steps.
I was getting into it, feeling almost normal.
“Let’s do it again, with the music,” said Jack. “I can’t see your body properly, Craig. Take your hoodie off.”
It was an order, not a request. I froze.
“Off!” said Jack. “Give it to one of the crew.”
I pulled my hoodie off slowly, in case he changed his mind. But he didn’t, and my T-shirt rode up, and I grabbed hold of it so it wouldn’t come off too, and the sunglasses came off, so I put them back on. The wind was blowing cold.
Jack said, “Now, start the music in three, two, one, action!”
I’d given him a list of songs I could dance to, but he played a song I’d never heard before, and the beat wasn’t right. It was in 3|4 time. I stood there.
“Cut!” said Jack. “What happened, Craig?”
“Nothing. Sorry.”
I had to try and tune the music out.
“Again in...three, two, one, action!”
The song started again, and I went into my routine. Or tried to. Everything felt wrong.
“Cut!” said Jack.
I tried to pull myself together. Then Eddie was there, handing me my water bottle. I had to take small sips because I was having trouble swallowing, and my hand was shaking. While I was drinking it, he said, “You’re gonna be okay. I’m right here.”
I passed the bottle back. I wanted to hug him, but I couldn’t—not with Jack glaring at me, and I was trying to keep it together for Eddie because I didn’t want to let him down.
“Hey,” he said, “You can do this. Nobody else can do what you do, ’cause you’re fucking amazing.”
I didn’t deserve him. I started tearing up, and I was glad I was wearing sunglasses so he couldn’t see me being so pathetic.
“Eddie, get off the set,” said Jack.
Eddie tapped me lightly on the arm, smiled at me, then walked off.
I exhaled slowly.
“Craig, take your mark again,” said Jack.
All the tension came rushing back. One of the crew started the music. This time I focused on the sounds of my taps, and it was almost okay.
Jack called cut. “Better. Now do it again.”
I walked back to my mark and waited for Jack to tell me to go.
“Take your shirt off, Craig,” said Jack.
He had this stern look on his face. Not joking.
“Take it off, Craig,” he said.
I froze.
“No fucking way, Jack,” said Eddie, and he walked toward me.
“Get off the set, Eddie,” said Jack.
“He’s already sick, Jack,” said Eddie. “It’s fucking cold. If he takes his shirt off, he’ll get pneumonia.” He was trying to save me. He wasn’t telling Jack why I was panicking.
“When did you graduate from medical school?” said Jack. “If I tell you to take your shirt off, Craig, take your shirt off.”
He sounded exactly like my uncle after I’d refused to take my clothes off.
Right before he lost his temper and yelled at me in that low voice so no one outside my bedroom heard.
I walked to the side of the boardwalk, leaned over the concrete barrier, and puked into the water.
Then Eddie was there, and he held onto my shoulder so I didn’t fall over the barrier. The sunglasses fell into the lake.
“Eddie, get off the set,” said Jack.
“Go fuck yourself!” said Eddie.
I’d never heard him so mad. I didn’t know if it was him shaking or me or both of us.
“You want to get fired?” said Jack. “Get off the set and let him dance.”
My knees gave way.
“Come on, Craig, let’s go.” Eddie put his arm around me and got me up and over to a chair off the set. Then he was pulling my hoodie on over my head and pulling my arms through the holes so I was warm again.
“Eddie!” said Jack.
I couldn’t talk. My throat was on fire from the puke, and I couldn’t look at Jack, because I was afraid I’d see my uncle, like I’d never gotten away from him.
Then Eddie pulled me up, put his arm around my waist, and he said, “Fire me if you want, Jack, but I’m taking him to hospital.”