The Director's Cut (6 page)

“Guess you're right. I'm sure it will be business as usual around here as soon as the fascination wears off.” The heaviness in my heart eased up a bit. Then just as quickly, it returned. I faced Kat. “Only, you're leaving. So it really won't be business as usual, will it?”

“Aw.” She shrugged and reached over to hug me—not an easy task with a basketball-sized belly in the way. “I'm going to miss being with all of you so much. And in case I didn't make it clear yesterday, I really love this week's script. It's the perfect swan song for me, and I'm grateful. You have no idea how grateful.”

“You deserve the best, Kat. You really do. I . . .” Tears filled my eyes. “Well, I'm really going to miss you.”

“Ack! Now look what you've done.” Athena dabbed at her eyes. “You've made me cry.”

“I'll miss you both so much,” Kat said. “But I can't wait to see what the future holds.” She giggled. “For that matter, I can't wait to see what today holds. I know you'll do a great job leading us.” She lowered her voice. “And just so you know, I think it's a very kind thing you're doing for your sister.”

“Thanks.”

“Brave, even.” She gestured to the guys, and one of her brows elevated slightly. “If you know what I mean.”

I knew, all right. But I didn't feel brave. I felt like I'd just made a big mistake bringing Benita here. The potential for damage was huge. Still, we had to plow ahead. No rest for the weary, and all that.

Minutes later, we were off and running. I pulled the team together again, reminded them of the basic outline of the episode, and began to give some stage directions, starting with the elevator scene—the most critical component.

“The elevator set piece is being constructed as we speak and should be ready for tomorrow's run-through. But for now envision a space about eight by eight. Brock, you'll enter first, followed by Scott and Kat. Brock is holding the bag of sandwiches from the gyro shop. He's just picked them up to take to a meeting.” I snapped my fingers. “Ah, that reminds me, we'll have to get Athena to bring in several sandwiches from her parents' shop for this scene. They actually get eaten, so they have to be real.” I turned to Erin. “Make a note, okay?”

“Got it.” She grinned. “Athena needs to bring sandwiches for Thursday's shoot.”

This led several of my cast and crew members into a conversation about how great Athena's parents' sandwiches were, which took away valuable time. I finally managed to get them corralled once again.

“Anyway, Brock is in the elevator with the sandwiches when Kat and Scott—er, Angie and Jack—get in, dressed as Mr. and Mrs. Easter Bunny.”

Scott interrupted me. “No, they're heading out to meet the kids. Brock gets on after the fact. Isn't that right?”

“Hmm.” I thumbed through my script. Sure enough, I'd gotten it backwards. Nothing like appearing discombobulated in front of my cast and crew. I released a slow breath and dove in again, this time giving instructions about the location of the next scene. “Okay, so Angie and Jack are in the elevator . . .” I paused and turned to Erin, distracted by a niggling thought. “Would you mind checking with the wardrobe department to see if they've got the Easter Bunny costumes ready? Last I heard they were having trouble finding the fabric they needed for Mrs. Bunny's skirt.”

“Will do.” She took off running.

I turned back to my cast. “So, they're in the elevator dressed up for the party, where they plan to surprise the kids they represent. Then Brock gets in carrying the sandwiches, and the elevator gets stuck, which jars them all and sends Angie sprawling to the floor. At that point, she goes into labor.” I looked at Kat. “Think you can manage that part?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Well, do you mean ‘go into labor' as in ‘have labor pains'? Or does my water break or something? The script isn't clear. Do you have a preference?”

Ack! What a question to ask a never-been-pregnant woman. I closed my eyes and tried to envision the scene. Which would be the better choice? Labor usually took awhile, right? Maybe it would be best to have her water break first. I'd just about decided on that when Kat piped up.

“I read in my pregnancy book that most women just start with a few twinges. They don't even realize they're in labor right away. And very few women have their water break at the beginning. How long is this scene going to be, anyway? I can't just have a pain and then deliver a baby, you know?”

“Oh, we'll go back and forth from the elevator to the scene with the kids to show a progression in time,” I explained.

“Okay.” She nodded. “So, how do you want me positioned? I mean, this is a family show. We have to be really careful how we handle this scene.”

“Right. We want it to be funny but not crude.”

Hmm. Looked like I needed a compass, because right now I didn't have a clue where I was headed. And how would I steer this ship if I couldn't even tell a pregnant woman how to deliver a baby in an elevator?

I closed my eyes once again, picturing the whole thing. “Okay, this is how it's going to happen. You'll be in the elevator when Brock joins you. A moment later the elevator gets stuck, and after you fall to the floor, you feel your first labor pain. That's not too unrealistic, is it?”

Kat shrugged. “Sounds okay to me.”

“By the time we cut to the kids' scene at the agency and come back again, maybe you can be lying down with Jack on one side of you and Brock's character on the other. At that point you can be . . .”

“Panting?” she offered.

“Sure. Panting. Whatever. Just make sure it looks real.”

Kat rubbed her belly. “Trust me, I'll make it look real.”

Everyone got a laugh out of that one.

“And this would be a good time to have the guys eating the sandwiches. They're just biding their time.”

“Typical guys.” Kat rolled her eyes and eased her way into a chair.

“Then we'll cut back to the kids, who are trying to break into the elevator. By the time we cut back to the inside of the elevator, Jack has figured out that Brock's character is the rival talent scout, but it's too late to worry about that because the baby's coming. We'll cut back out to the kids, who hear an infant crying. When the elevator doors open, Jack faints.”

“Can't wait,” Scott said. “I've always wanted an excuse to faint.”

“Well, now you've got it.” I plastered on a smile and tried to look calm and confident as I called everyone into position for the first run-through. Unfortunately, the whole thing turned out to be a chaotic mess. And my instructions—confusing and vague—didn't help matters.

What's wrong with you today, Tia? You'd think you had never directed the birth of a child before.

Then again, I hadn't. Maybe that was the problem. I had no clue what I was doing. But I couldn't very well let them see that, could I?

Erin ran back in the room, gave me a thumbs-up, and hollered that the costumes were complete and ready to be fitted. At least we didn't have to worry about that.

We forged ahead, making a royal mess of things. The kids began to act up, creating more chaos than my nerves could handle. Poor Kat sat on the floor panting for so long I thought she might pass out. She pushed and puffed till I believed a baby might actually emerge. And the look on Brock's face was priceless as he watched. Clearly he'd never witnessed a scene like this one before. Not with a neurotic director in charge, anyway.

“Okay, everyone, let's do this. I think we should . . .” I stared at my cast, my thoughts tumbling madly. For whatever reason, every sensible idea slipped right out of my head. I'd left everyone hanging on my last word, and they were counting on me to give direction.

At long last, I said the only thing that made sense.

“I think we should take a break for lunch.”

There are those moments in life when you feel as if you're drowning. In my case, pride kept me from calling out for a life preserver. How could I call myself a director when I felt like fleeing every time the seas got rocky? Spielberg didn't run when trouble set in, did he? Of course not. And what about the great Cecil B. DeMille? He dug in his heels and stayed put, even during the toughest of times. Even Stanley Kubrick didn't run, though some felt he should, after that scuttlebutt with
Lolita
.

No, the greats didn't run. They stayed put and directed the delivery scene in the elevator, even when everything inside of them screamed for the mother-to-be to hold that baby inside until next season.

Deep breath, Tia. This baby's got to come out.

A few deep breaths later and I realized I was panting, just like I'd seen Kat doing earlier.

“You okay, Tia?” Rex walked toward me, the wrinkles in his brow deepening. “You're looking a little pale. And you sound a little winded.”

“Am I? Hmm.” Mustering up my courage, I gave him what I hoped would be a convincing smile. “I'm fine.”

Or at least I will be, once I get this breathing steadied.

“Okay. Well, I'm taking Lenora over to the commissary for some lunch. She didn't eat much this morning. Her appetite these days is . . . ” He shook his head. “Anyway, she likes the commissary. Reminds her of when she was young. Back in those days, you never knew who you might see at the next table—Rock Hudson, Clark Gable, Doris Day . . .”

Rex disappeared, along with half of the cast and crew. Finding myself on a near-empty set, I turned to my new production assistant. “Erin, would you do me a favor and run lines with the kids as soon as lunch ends? I could tell at the roundtable reading yesterday that Joey's going to have a little trouble with pacing in that first scene, and Ethan is struggling with a lisp. I really need someone to help Candy run over her solo too. Think you can do all that when we get back from lunch?”

“Sure. Sounds like fun. Do you mind if I do some warm-ups with them first? I think that's half the problem. Their enthusiasm is waning because they're stuck in a rut. Seems like no one's excited about all of this, and that's a shame. If we make this fun for them, they'll come alive again. I just know it.”

I nodded, mesmerized by her ability both to work with small children and to take charge. In so many ways, I felt like the Lord had plopped Erin down in the middle of the
Stars Collide
studio just to lift my spirits. Well, that, and to help. She seemed more than ready to assist me in whatever way I needed.

To my left, a familiar voice rang out. “Are you hungry? Do you want to go to the commissary?”

I looked over at Jason. “Oh, I . . .” Was he really asking me to join him for lunch? My grumbling stomach finally won out. “I would love that. I'm starved.”

“I had some ideas about shooting this scene and wanted to talk them through.”

“Sure.” Naturally. He just wanted to talk shop. Figured. Then again, who could blame him? I'd always focused on business first.

“Ooo, I want to go too,” Benita said from behind me.

Jason turned and gave her a curious look, followed by a shrug. “Sure. Sounds good. The more, the merrier.”

Ugh.

Benita rolled her eyes. “I asked Brock if he wanted to come, but he's going to eat with Erin and the kids. Go figure.”

Go figure, indeed. I watched as Brock made his way to Erin's side, a broad smile on his face.

When we reached the commissary, the smell of roast beef nearly knocked me off my feet. How long had it been since I'd eaten a real meal? Still, I could hardly shovel in the beef with people looking on, now could I? Instead, I opted for a salad with light Italian dressing. Benita, on the other hand, went for the roast and potatoes.

We took our places at a table just far enough away from Rex and Lenora to give them some privacy. I watched as Kat and Scott ate their lunch together off in the distance. What would it be like, I wondered, to eat lunch with someone who loved you as deeply as Scott loved Kat?

“Mmm, Tia?”

“Yes?” I looked into Jason's eyes.

“Would you pass the salt?”

“Oh, um, sure.” Not exactly “Let's spend the rest of our lives together,” but at least he was talking to me. For months, the only communication we'd had was arguing over filming techniques. At least we were sitting at the same table. That was a start.

“This place is crazy.” Benita looked around, her eyes widening as she saw a familiar male star. “Oh, Tia! That's Trace Goodnight from
Another Side of Love
. I've always thought he was so handsome.”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. I'd seen him around dozens of times, so he'd lost his luster.

“Working at a studio has to be the best job I've ever had.” Benita looked my way, her eyes sparkling. “And seeing all of these famous people is just the icing on the cake. Now I can see why you love your job so much, Tia.”

“Why wouldn't she love it? She's very good at what she does.” Jason took a bite of his sandwich and gave me a wink.

My heart fluttered.
Did he really just wink at me, or does he have something in his eye? And did he actually say I'm good at what I do?

Benita took a bite and leaned back in her chair. “I know she's good at what she does. She talks about work nonstop, even when she's at home with the family. It's ‘camera angles' this and ‘lighting' that. She never quits.”

“I like my job. What can I say?” Nibbling on a piece of lettuce, I tried to put her words out of my mind. Besides, what did she know about my work? She'd never shown much interest in it.

Benita shrugged. “Might not hurt to give it a rest every now and again.”

I bit back the words on my tongue and continued chewing the lettuce.

She turned to Jason. “Don't you agree?”

“Oh, well, I guess it's not my place to say. Besides, I'm pretty much a workaholic myself.” His encouraging smile lifted my spirits. “So, what do you do for fun, Tia?” Jason took a swig of his Coke. “When you're not talking about your work, I mean.”

“For fun?” I paused and shrugged, opting not to mention taping and floating Sheetrock. I finally landed on the only answer that made sense. “Watch a lot of TV and movies.”

“Me too.” He nodded.

Benita rolled her eyes. “You two are so boring.”

His gaze narrowed as he looked my way. “Now, this isn't a trick question—or maybe it is—but are you watching TV shows and movies to rest and relax, or are you working?”

I sighed, knowing I'd been caught. “I watch the various camera angles and setups. Wide shots. Narrow shots. Close-ups versus pulled-out shots. Actors' tones and inflections. Hairstyles. Set design.” I groaned. “Trust me, I'm not resting and relaxing. I'm usually looking for new and innovative ways to do things. Or I'm catching errors. Do you know how many costume errors alone I've caught? It keeps me on my toes so we don't make the same mistakes.”

Benita's eye rolling kicked in again. “See? I told you. She never takes a minute off. It's ridiculous. Even God took one day off.”

“I rest.”

Sometimes.

“If anyone understands Tia's work ethic, I do.” Jason sighed. “Especially when it comes to watching movies or TV. I'm ruined for life. Can't enjoy them at all.”

Finally! Someone who understood me.

Jason leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones. “Just last week I watched an episode of
Another Side of Love
and noticed that Trace Goodnight's shirt was yellow at the beginning of the scene and brown at the end. Someone wasn't paying attention.”

“I actually took notes at the last movie I went to. Beni got mad at me because I hid my iPad in my purse.” I glared at her. “Don't know what her problem was. I only pulled it out a few times, and I reduced the light on the screen so it wouldn't bother anyone.”

“I wanted her to have a good time,” Benita said. “But she doesn't know how to do that. Trust me, we've been working on it for years and she can't get the hang of it.”

“Can I help it if I'm a workaholic?” I asked. “I'm trying to make a name for myself in this industry, and that's not easy.”

Even as I spoke, shame washed over me. Where had the words come from, anyway? Since when did I care about making a name for myself?

Jason gave me a sympathetic look. “I've never said this before, Tia, but I don't envy you being the director. Having that much control would be tough. And having to come up with decisions on the spot—with so many people looking on—would be even tougher.”

“The worst is when we're in the middle of a scene that's not working. I'm standing there in front of the whole cast and crew, having to come up with a solution. I usually work much better alone. I block out every scene in my head—and on paper—ahead of time. So when things fall apart, I might look composed on the outside, but I'm mush on the inside.”

“I never would have known.” He gave me an admiring look. Seemed like I was seeing more of this side of him lately. Interesting.

“I'd take your place any day,” my sister said between bites.

I sighed. “Beni, there's more to the job than most people know. I don't just have to direct the actors and actresses. I have to make sure the set design is perfect.” The intensity of my voice rose, and my words were more rushed. “I have to work closely with the costume department to make sure everyone is looking the way they should be looking. Same with hair and makeup. I have to communicate with all of the department heads on a regular basis to make sure we're on the same page. Not to mention the producer and the advertisers. And then there are the kids. I have to make sure they're on the set only a certain number of hours per day, and having their lessons with their teacher the rest. That means everything has to be scheduled down to the minute.”

Jason looked sympathetic. “I don't know what you're so worried about. You're the director, and a great one at that. You're accustomed to telling people what to do, and they do it—not just because they respect you as a person but because they respect your position.” He shrugged. “That's got to feel good.”

“Sometimes. But I guess I'd just rather have their respect as a person, not a director. When I'm not hollering out directions, people just pass me by like I'm not even there.”

“Impossible.” His gaze lingered, and a hint of a smile creased the edges of his mouth. “I defy anyone to pass you by.”

Suddenly all the noise in the commissary seemed to come to a grinding halt. For a moment, I could hear only his words: “I defy anyone to pass you by.” They rang out loud and clear, flooding my heart with joy. And surprise. And intrigue. And hope.

His face lit in a boyish smile, and all of a sudden it was just the two of us sitting in the studio commissary, eating lunch and talking about the things we had in common. Everything around us faded to sepia tone. No, scratch that. Sepia tone was highly overrated and rough on the eyes. I'd never understood that whole faded-edges thing, either. Better make it mood lighting—soft whites shimmering through transient gels positioned overhead. Or maybe a lovely beach scene in the background. Digital, of course.

One thing was for sure. If Jason had been filming this scene—if the camera had zoomed in close enough—he would surely have noticed the shimmer of tears in my eyes. And though they surprised me, I could no longer deny the fact that they reflected feelings simmering just below the surface.

Oh, mama mia! Now what?