Chapter Four
CONSIDERING HIMSELF A hardworking man, Jeremy is beat down from the first week of principal filming after their week of prep and practice.
Finishing an eighty hour work week, Jeremy isolates in the hotel’s lush room all weekend.
He collapses in the massive bed and catches up on any sleep he can manage.
He feels bad for the crew members staying at the La Quinta, undoubtedly not having the same delicious room service options or illustrious views as him.
Regardless, he luxuriates in his amenities and recuperates as best he can.
The next work week is just as intense. Even when Clark wraps early or is off the schedule, Jeremy is still assigned to help the other horse wranglers for the day on set.
Somehow, this week is shaping up to be even more difficult.
Call time for Monday is six AM and wrap is nine that evening.
But by the time Friday rolls around, they’re starting at five in the afternoon and set to work through the night.
The other crew have informed Jeremy that this is referred to as a “Fraturday” and is unanimously disliked by crew and cast alike.
Catching Golden Hour as the sun sets over the water, they continue shooting as the moon rises behind the Condors holding massive light panels above the production’s head.
It’s eleven PM when “lunch,” or their first meal, is called and Jeremy runs into the first team production assistant, Aubrey, as he waits in the catering line.
“How’s it going?” He asks the ragged twenty year old.
“Best day of my goddamn life,” she grumbles, going through the stack of actors’s food orders. She opens one and calls out to a caterer, “Hey! What kind of fish is this?”
“Halibut,” he says.
“I need cod. I asked for cod.”
“No, you said ‘white fish.’ Halibut is white.”
“Look,” Aubrey squares up, “Clark Radison doesn’t eat halibut, he thinks they’re ugly. So go get me an alternative fish that looks like cod right now.”
She hands the food order back to him and he mumbles under his breath as he walks away to go cook up something else. Jeremy asks her, “Clark’s here? I didn’t think he worked today.”
“Ugh, you didn’t hear? EPs showed up so they pulled Clark’s scene.”
“Oh,” Jeremy’s confused, not knowing what an EP is or which scene was being pulled ahead of schedule. But he’s learned that the proper response to any new information isn’t more questions, it’s saying, “Copy that.”
After he goes through the food line, Jeremy finds his safe person, Eneki, and sits with him and the other horse wranglers at the Lunch Box - a trailer hosting a large portable cafeteria - asking immediately, “What’s an EP?”
“Oh, yeah, that,” Eneki shakes his head and takes a sip of his lemonade, “It’s an executive producer. The big wigs are here. Clark and Haukea’s moonlit run is up after lunch.”
“But that’s on the other side of the ranch from where we were shooting,” Jeremy points out.
“Yep. Teamsters are working through lunch to move the forties,” Eneki explains through a bite, “Good thing you got your food in a box and not a plate, come on. We gotta go tack up Haukea.”
Jeremy hasn’t even taken two bites, closing his to-go box and following Eneki out of the Lunch Box.
They go to their department’s assigned ATV Gator and Eneki drives them through the night while Jeremy nibbles on his food in his lap.
He asks between bites and over the rushing wind, “So, what’s the big whoop about these EPs? ”
“Think of them as the ranch owner. Or, who owns a ranch owner?”
Jeremy shrugs, “God?”
“Yeah, okay, EPs are the gods of the film industry,” Eneki laughs, “They’re very important, that’s all you need to know. And when they show their faces on set, that means we gotta dazzle ‘em. Clark’s moonlit run is one of the money making shots, so it’s really important the EPs see that.”
They arrive at the new location and other people are also working through lunch to set up the new area - locations department putting out trashcans and setting up canopy tents, camera utility workers computing the new video village, and teamsters lining up the trucks and trailers for the crew to access.
Jeremy and Eneki park the Gator with some others before walking through the throng of crew members to the horse trailer.
They greet their driver before getting out Kau and Haukea.
The responsibility of preparing the horses falls on Jeremy as Eneki goes fishing for information from any “adults,” or people in the know of such treasured information, like an assistant director.
Tacking the horses and trotting them around the field to wake them up, Eneki finds him on his own horse and tells Jeremy he’s scouted the route with the adults for Clark’s ride.
He shows him the way and runs through the course with him, explaining where the cameras will be.
The lighting technician has one of his well lit Condors fly up into the sky, a sudden blast of fake moonlight bathing the path.
Time flies and soon the whole set is swarming with the rest of the crew and channel one of the production’s radio is alight with chatter. It’s not much longer until the key PA is calling out over channel one, “Radison flies!”
That means that Clark is on his way, Jeremy silencing his radio on his hip and riding over to the line of Gators to meet him with Haukea.
The luxury extended cab Gator that Clark arrives in holds Aubrey and the glam squad, Clark already in costume.
The make up girl says to Aubrey, “I still need to do touches.”
“You’ll have time,” she looks over and catches Jeremy’s eye, “Okay good, you’re here. Clark, let’s get you on Haukea. They want you to run through the route you’ll be riding as soon as possible.”
Clark seems tense as he nods and steps forward, hardly glimpsing at Jeremy as he gets up on his saddle and takes the reins from Jeremy’s hand.
He leads Clark past the tree line over to the start of the path he’ll run past to get through the brush into the field.
There are assistant camera workers lining up shots with the stand-in that pay them no mind as Jeremy tells him, “Alright, you’ll start here.
If you head for the left of that tree, we’ve cleared a line for you to run without getting hit by foliage. Then you’ll come out here.”
Jeremy leads him through the narrow path of the brush through to the clearing they’d just come from, pointing westward, “You’ll head that way toward the camera.
It’s just a straight break, but they want you to go really fast. Like, as fast as possible.
Camera’s rigging one of ‘em cars with a crane arm and the camera at the end-”
“U-Crane,” Clark puts a name to the vehicle.
“Right, they’re getting one of those ready.”
“Copy,” Clark looks behind him to the start and then forward again to the end point.
“They want you to stop just before the other end of the clearing over there,” Jeremy points out, turning back to the actor and asking, “How you feeling?”
Clark shrugs, “It’s fine. Go fast in a straight line.”
“Basically, yeah.”
Gaze wandering over to the bustling crew in the distance, Clark mutters, “Uh-oh.”
Two portly men in button ups and khaki shorts wave to Rezai - the mysterious director that always wears a hoodie and sunglasses no matter the time of day - as they walk across the field toward Clark and Jeremy. They call out, “Radison! You son of a bitch! How the hell are ya?”
“Marty, Greg! Get the fuck outta here!” Clark boisterously calls out, getting down from Haukea to greet the EPs.
The three chuckleheads laugh and shake hands.
Jeremy gets down from Kau to take Haukea’s reins, walking them over to the three men.
Marty and Greg turn to Jeremy with an expectant smile.
Jeremy has a feeling like he should prostrate himself or kiss their feet, instead extending his hand and saying, “Jeremy Munday.”
They shake hands and Clark finishes introducing him, “My horse wrangler. We were just going over the run.”
“Well, it looks really gorgeous from over there. All three cameras got really solid angles,” one of the big wigs toothily grins.
“It’s gonna look even better with me in it,” Clark winks.
“We should do a rehearsal at half speed,” Jeremy suggests, “To get a feel for it and so they can see it.”
“Pfft. Yeah, no shit,” Clark shakes his head and rolls his eyes, “This guy. This is his first movie. When we started he didn’t even know what a call sheet was. Now look at him, telling me to do a rehearsal at half speed.”
The three men chortle while Jeremy’s ears burn with embarrassment.
He tries to keep a neutral face, but he’s pissed at Clark for, yet again, showing off how much of an asshole he can be.
The stabbing sensation of the cutting comment is very similar to how Clark made Jeremy feel way in the past, and just as sharp.
That emotion hangs heavy over his head the rest of the night.
The shots end up looking amazing, that handsome devil riding like the wind through the artificially moonlit haze.
Sleeping until five in the afternoon is the only option after wrapping Jeremy’s first dreadful Fraturday.
He’s groggy as he crawls out from under the sheets, akin to the living dead.
Considering whether he wants to order food or jerk off first, his morning wood has him leaning toward the latter.
Opening his phone, Jeremy doesn’t head for porn right away.
He chews on his lip as he goes through his messages to find Barry’s blurred picture.
Rubbing his thumb over the attachment to reveal the image, of course it’s a dick pic.