Ruby Unscripted (28 page)

“Without my faith, I might be like my brother.”

“But if you go away from it, how do you get back?”

“I don't know for sure. But I guess you start seeking again and again.”

It's surprising how quickly Sunday comes and everything is being packed up. My house slowly looks like my house again as we pick up the equipment, empty cartons of Chinese takeout, dozens of empty aluminum cans, clothes, sleeping bags, and dishes.

And except for some minor tweaking, the film is done.

The group sits together and watches it on Kaden's laptop.

Even with my limited professional experience, I know it's good. Really good.

Kaden and I look at each other when it's over, as everyone gives high fives and congratulations. Except for Rob, who is still evaluating and writing thoughts on perfecting what to me is perfect.

I imagine Rob's father standing as the credits roll, and the entire crowd applauding so loudly it shakes the upstairs. The cast and crew are brought up to the front amid further accolades and whistles of admiration.

And this summer our team will be filming on some tropical location. Kaden and I can walk the beach at midnight. Maybe we'll swim in the warm waters beneath the moonlight. Stranger things have happened.

chapter twenty-four

After school as I wait by London's white MINI Cooper, Blair walks toward me with a cold look on her face. Even colder than usual.

And did I really think time would make this all disappear?

It's been so long, I hoped she either didn't know or didn't care. Since I dropped International Cooking for Intro to Film, I don't have lunch with Frankie and friends.

My phone vibrates, and I look at the message from Rob.

ROB: I'm sick and still working on the program, SG's grandma passed away so he's on his way to Iowa, Cass and the others are helping set up and print the brochures. I need you to pick up the final cut from SG and get it to the Underground this afternoon.

“We need to talk.” Blair is standing in front of me.

“I can't right now. Rob wants me to pick up the film for tonight.”

I hold up my phone as if to prove it, and she frowns.

“Soon then.”

“There you are,” London says. “Oh, hello, Blair.”

“Bye,” Blair says, giving me one last glance that reminds me this isn't finished.

“I think Blair could take down a UFC fighter with one of her looks,” London says as she unlocks her car doors with a touch of her finger to the lock. “I think you deserve a short spa afternoon before the big night. My treat.”

I laugh at that—it's always her treat, or I couldn't afford it. “If I didn't know better, I'd think you lived at that spa.”

“It's been said before.”

“I have to work a few hours before the big night begins.”

“You can't work,” she says with a funny little whine. “I want a spa buddy.”

“And I would love to be that girl. But I have to pick up the film, go home and get my stuff, get to work, get ready, and be ready for tonight and the Pellegrini Filmmakers Competition.”

“Please, stop, stop. Too much for the brain.”

I laugh. For a short while after the “party night,” I didn't hang out with London. She deserted me, after all, even if she did apologize again and again. But her persistence won me back. And she is fun.

“Hey, could you drive me by SG's house to pick up the film?” I ask.

“Of course, darling,” she says with a British accent. “Your chauffeur at your service.”

As I'm looking for the key under the doormat at the side entrance of SG's condo, Mom calls.

“Aunt Jenna asked if you could come in a little early.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. We just got to SG's house. I'll grab the film, get my stuff at home, and go straight over.”

“And you know that your brother can't come down? Your dad has some shipment arriving tonight for the hardware store . . .”

I unlock the door and peer inside. SG's parents moved to Washington earlier in the year and set him up with his own condo that he shares with two college students who are currently on a weeklong trek for the environment—or something like that. Stepping inside, I try to remember all the instructions he gave me when I called him on the drive over.

“Yeah, I talked to Carson on Monday or sometime.”

“Your dad said to tell you good luck and that he wants to see the movie when you come up.”

I go down the hall, glancing around at the decor a la bachelor. Overstuffed couch, plasma TV, and mess of pizza boxes and half-empty glasses.

“Okay. I'll try to call him soon.”

“What time do you want us there?”

On a desk in one of the rooms, I see a disk with the title
Solitude
on top. I grab it and hurry back to the car.

“Mom, I'm on my way home now. Can we talk then?”

London zips down the road quickly. At home I race inside, dump out my book bag, and reload it with my makeup, shoes, curling iron, and jewelry for tonight. I nearly forget my little black dress that's become a little tight lately with all the food I've been eating. But it still complements my curving hips in a good way—not like the way some of my low-rise pants are starting to fit.

London's talking to Anthony when I get back in the car.

“To the Underground!” I say with my hand pointing forward.

When we arrive, London helps me gather my purse, duffel bag, camera, phone, and dress.

“Where's the film?” she asks.

I find the disc partway down the side of the seat. “Oh my gosh, can you imagine if something happened to this?” I say, holding it close to my chest.

Work passes at a snail's pace. I keep checking the clock. Members of my team and the other film groups arrive and go up and down to the theater rooms with little to do and anxiety exuding from every pore.

Finally I change quickly in the back room, wash my face, and redo my makeup. I decide on smoky eyes for a night like tonight, but my favorite gloss isn't in my makeup bag. I think of London's perfectly organized travel makeup “station” and smile as I dump my makeup bag out and finally find the gloss. Tossing everything in the corner under the small desk, I'm about to leave when I hear a text come in.

KATE:
I'd like to talk.

ME:
Oh yes. Me too! I can't right now though. Later tonight?

KATE:
Yeah.

ME:
Are you okay?

She doesn't respond, and I need to find my team.

Rob isn't his normal, easygoing self. He's more like Simon from
American Idol
on steroids and with a cold—he's grouchy and constantly moving while blowing his nose occasionally.

“Ruby, meet us downstairs,” he calls and disappears.

Mom, Austin, and Mac arrive. I wave and tell them I have to go. “You might want to get seats soon,” I tell them before following Cass and Darren Duke to the theater rooms.

It's time. The air nearly crackles with the anticipation.

Three of the teams are seated at the back, with the one whose film is showing sitting in the front row. The leader of each will stand and offer a brief Q&A session after the showing. Our group will present third. The judges sit in a row in the middle—two other men and a woman whom people are impressed with but whom I've never heard of.

After finding a seat with my team, I lean around Cass, who is talking to someone behind her, and wave at Kaden. He's staring forward in one of his deep thought moments.

“Pretty exciting, isn't it?” I say.

“Yeah, it really is. The stakes are pretty high for all of us.”

The lights dim and then rise to settle people into their seats. Then Rob's father stands. He reminds me of Tony Soprano in size and demeanor.

“I'd like to welcome you all to what we hope will be the first of an annual event, the Pellegrini Filmmakers Competition. It was certainly thrown together in a hurry, but in this business time has no weight. As filmmakers our patience is stretched often for years as we push a project. Other times we're expected to work miracles within days or weeks. And so the first requirement for these films tonight was that they were not previously completed in production, and they've never been shown before. You'll see in your program the complete rules.

“We have a distinguished panel of judges . . .” He introduces each one to the applause of the crowd. “And so let us begin.”

The first film is a story of a couple at an Italian restaurant hiding under a table during a mob hit. The man and woman see how their relationship isn't working only by this intense situation.

The second film is like an abstract painting come to life. There are no actors, no story, just an artistic rendition of . . . something. I don't know what, and the audience doesn't appear to either. There's mediocre applause, though one of the judges is clapping loudly.

Our group moves to the front row, replacing the last team. Kaden squeezes my arm as I pass him to sit a few seats down. I wish I were next to him, holding his hand through this momentous event.

Applause, lights fall. And then from the darkened screen, the music rises. Our title,
Solitude
, and then . . .

A voice.

I don't remember a voice at this part.

“We're here to view the creation of a creation. The filming of a film. The teamwork of a team.”

The camera whirls and rocks, making my head dizzy a moment before SG's face appears only inches from the screen. He says, “The making of
Solitude
.”

My mouth drops as it hits me. At the same moment, the film is shut off and the room is in darkness. Cass says, “What happened? Where's Rob?”

There's a low rumbling from the crowd. Then Rob's voice calls from the back room. “I apologize, there's been a bit of a mix-up. If you'll just hold tight a moment . . .”

A few chuckles from the audience. The room is dark again.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Ruby, we need you back here.”

I follow Josef through the nearly pitch-dark theater. “Is it the wrong disc?”

“What do you think?”

I can barely see Rob's face in the light from the computer screen.

“Is this the only disc you brought?”

“Yes,” I say. “What happened to it?”

“Oh no,” Rob says and puts his head in his hands.

The room starts to move with restless feet and a few snickers.

“What's happening back there?”

“Need some help with your team, Rob?”

“This is a disaster,” he says. He takes a few deep breaths, then stands. “Lights.”

The lights come on, and Rob walks forward. People in the audience stare at him and whisper among themselves. I see it all from the back with Josef beside me, still trying to understand what happened. What did Sound Guy do with the real disc? Did he ruin it and then take off? But why would he do such a thing?

Rob confers with his father, bending down in front of him. I hear him whisper, “We could get the master disk and be back in thirty or forty minutes.”

Rob's father shakes his head and whispers, then stands and announces, “Ladies and gentlemen. I apologize, but it appears that one film will not be showing tonight. Group three is disqualified. Let's go on to group four.”

Team four hurries toward the projector. Our team moves awkwardly out of the theater amid the questioning gazes. My eyes meet Kaden's with a sorrowful expression. All that work for nothing.

I wait a few minutes before following them up the stairs.

Rob turns from the group. “Ruby, what happened?”

“What do you mean what happened? I didn't do any—”

“You were supposed to get the master from the safe.”

And it hits me then. My distraction, how I grabbed a disk from the desk. And I remember vaguely that SG said the master would be in the safe. It wasn't SG's fault. Or anyone else's. It was mine.

“I messed up.”

“You can say that again. What you do reflects on this group. It reflects on me. We're not just doing this for a hobby, for fun. Our work is our art. My twin sisters could've done better than this. And they're in fifth grade.”