50. Chapter Fifty
And the interoffice email in Sandra’s office read, “We will answer no more questions to the press about Graham and his relationships outside of his current movie.”
* * *
Action hero work is grueling.
I’m in the best shape of my life. I was in training the moment I signed on. There’s been weightlifting, cardio, weapons training, and strict dieting. This has been my life for five months.
Italy is beautiful.
The beaches are different than they are in California.
The food, so much better.
And the countryside—it’s glorious to wake up to each morning.
But, when I wake up, I’m always alone. No dog. No Christina. No hope.
We’ve been filming since six o’clock this morning, and now I’m off to the trailer full of gym equipment to work with my trainer for two hours. Then, it’s back to filming.
Olivia has been a bear on this film, and I’m sure that the director and Charles Malloy are second guessing their choice in using her.
She’s lazy.
She drinks too much.
She goes out and parties with the locals, and I’m seriously not too sure of the ages of the men she keeps company with. That’s always been a trait of hers. Men much too old or much too young.
Yesterday, we had to cut filming short because she was so stoned, she could hardly keep her eyes open. The physical aspect of this movie is grueling, but the emotional aspect of having to keep up with Olivia’s drama, that’s exhausting.
But, when the film is done, it’s going to be a masterpiece. That is, if we ever get through it.
As I walk into the gym trailer, my phone pings with my mother’s text sound.
I look down to see that she’s sent a picture.
Loki made a new friend at the park today. Her name is Dolly.
The picture has me grinning. I miss that dog. I can’t wait to get home to him.
They look happy, I text back, grateful to have seen this today.
Her owner and I sat and chatted quite a bit. We’re going to meet up again tomorrow.
Leave it to my dog to make even my mother a new friend.
Before I can text again, my mother sends another photo. I stop my advancement into the trailer. My trainer watches me.
There on my screen is a picture of Dolly, Loki, and Christina. She’s kneeling, and loving on both the dogs.
“Are you ready? They called down and gave me a timeframe in which to get you back,” my trainer says.
I chew my bottom lip. No, I’m not ready. My world was just rocked.
* * *
Olivia is so out of it that me screwing up all my lines is overlooked. I can’t focus. My mother and my dog are spending time with Christina, and here I am filming a movie I sold my soul for, and I hate it. I hate every minute of it.
“One more time, folks,” the director cries out from his position next to the camera.
I draw in a deep breath and look toward Olivia.
She’s sewn into some dress, half ripped and half singed. I’m in a torn tuxedo, and the only part about this that I glean any enjoyment from is that someone told me I look like James Bond. I don’t even care which James Bond. I’ll take the compliment.
We both are harnessed to a crane that will lift us up. The ocean is our backdrop.
The scene is one where a car speeds by spraying bullets, and I grab Olivia, and we jump off the bridge. They’ll add the car later, but they have a huge fan that blows dust up at us as if the car is speeding past. Our stunt doubles will be the ones jumping off the bridge and landing in the water.
The director yells, “Action!” and Olivia grabs my hand. A moment later, the fan blows at us, dust clouds my vision as I scoop her up with one arm around her waist, and we jump over the bridge.
The scene is cut, and we dangle from our harnesses. Only Olivia, who usually pushes away from me, is still pressed against me. My arm holds her in place, but her head has dropped back.
“Olivia?” I say, and I realize the weight of her against my arm as I hold her. “Olivia!”
I lift my hand to her chest. She’s not breathing.
Shit!
“Get us down! Get us down, now!” I shout.
“It’ll take two minutes to reset. Hold on. We’ll?—”
“She’s not breathing!” I scream down, over the noise of the fan, to the crew below us.
I keep shaking her, but there is no response. I can’t hold her and do CPR on her while we hang in the air.
I lift her head and cradle it, so it doesn’t fall back again. Just as I decide to try and blow air into her mouth, they begin to lower us back to the bridge. I can hear an ambulance coming close. There’s always one just on the edge of the set for when someone gets hurt, but this isn’t what I’d have expected.
As soon as our feet hit the ground, I wrap both of my arms around Olivia to hold her up. Her body is limp.
The paramedics move in, along with the stunt coordinators and technicians, to get her unhooked and laid on the ground. One paramedic is bagging her, and another begins to do CPR. My knees have gone weak. The blood is draining from my head. The only thing keeping me upright is this fucking harness.
An assistant walks up next to me and hands me a bottle of water.
“Drink this,” she says, signaling to another stunt coordinator to remove my harness.
When I’m freed, she takes my arm and eases me to the ground. “Are you okay?” she asks.
I blink hard. “I’m fine. She just went limp,” I say with a shaky voice.
The assistant sits on the ground next to me and we both watch as they move Olivia onto a gurney, the paramedic still doing compressions on her.
It’s all a blur as they load her into the ambulance and speed away.
The entire crew is silent. The set is still. No one knows if Olivia Chase is dead or alive.
Eventually, people start to move about, but it’s as if they’re all in slow motion.
“Why don’t you go back to your trailer and rest. I’ll come get you when we have some news or know what we’re going to do,” the assistant that came to my rescue says.
I nod, and then stand. My legs are still shaky, so I take a moment before moving.
The trailer is just beyond where we’re working, but it seems as if it’s taken me an hour to just walk toward it.
Did she die up there with my arm wrapped around her?
What did I do?
No, I didn’t do anything. I can’t go putting blame on myself. Olivia has a solid reputation for drinking and doing drugs. No doubt that played into it.
My phone dings the moment I step into my trailer. It’s sitting on the table right where I left it.
It’s a text from Sandra. This looks cozy, she says and sends a picture of me holding Olivia close up on the wire.
Fuck! This is such bullshit that this kind of stuff goes on and all the sudden there is an instant rumor. I’m done with rumors.
I start texting back, but I stop. I’m not going to say anything until I know what happened. I’m not going to feed this rumor mill.
Instead, I call my mother. And when she answers, I start sobbing.