Authors: Cara Dee
"All right…" I didn't do well with hints, and I had no time to decipher anything. My phone was going off, and I had been away from the set too long. "Yeah, sure, of course." I quickly scanned the text from my DP, seeing a series of photos for the next scene. It was a new set, and I'd asked for pictures of lighting positions before I returned, though the lighting for the rehearsal wasn’t my issue. "Listen, Doc—"
"I get it, Mr. Workaholic." She nodded and held out a hand toward the door. "Class dismissed, I suppose."
I chuckled and stood up, already calling my DP. "I'll get back to you. Have a good one." I left the office and headed down the hall toward the exit, and I couldn’t say I was pleased with the photos. I'd kinda fallen for April, Sophie's character, and I wanted to do her justice.
"I was expecting your call, boss," Shawn said. "What's missing?"
"Street," I replied, pushing the door open. I slid on my shades and crossed the parking lot. "April puts her life story on canvas with graffiti. Skip that frilly lamp by her bed, and have someone take down the fucking posters. She doesn’t read
Seventeen
. Have the art department start knocking everything down. I'm on my way back, so see you in an hour or so." Hanging up the phone, I unlocked the car and got in.
Back to work. The one part of my life where I always brought my A-game.
Chapter 12
When I came home late that night, I was exhausted, my neck hurt, and I was fucking starving. The loft was quiet and dark, so either Julian had gone to bed, or he was out.
With Nicky
.
I opened the fridge and sniffed around the takeout containers. One had vegetarian chili from a place I ordered from a lot, and it didn't smell bad.
I plated it and put it in the microwave, and then I went through my mail as I waited for it to heat up.
"Noah?"
"Oh." I leaned over the kitchen island, seeing a sleepy Julian padding closer. "Sorry, did the microwave wake you?"
He shook his head sleepily and yawned. His flannels clung low on his hips, and he wasn’t wearing a T-shirt. He usually did.
"I couldn’t sleep," he grumbled. "Nicky snores."
I said nothing and waited for the jealousy to pass. It was completely irrational.
They'd never spent the night here before. It was easier to ignore when they were at Nicky's place.
The loft was my sanctuary, so I hadn't brought any women here. But Julian and Nicky were together. Of course they'd be here, too.
"Should I give him a talk about his intentions?" I gave him a wry smile. "You've been together a while now."
Julian snorted and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "Are you my father now?"
"Jesus. Uncle's bad enough."
He took it as I'd intended and chuckled. "Hmm, I don't know…Daddy's got a ring to it."
I barked out a laugh. "Fuck you, kid."
"You had your chance and blew it."
Someone was feisty tonight.
The microwave pinged, and I retrieved a spoon from the drawer and found some bread in the cabinet to dip in the chili. I didn't want the moment to be over yet, so I hopped up to sit on the kitchen island.
Julian did the same on the counter, snatching an apple from the bowl by the coffeemaker. "How was work?"
"It was good. We wrapped the scenes with the kid and moved the kitchen set." Sophie had been a little peeved when we hadn't been able to cast Kayden, but the boy just wasn’t interested enough. "April's art studio and bedroom are ready. We're starting there tomorrow." I shoveled some grub into my mouth and reached for a napkin. "What about you? How're the vultures down at
Variety
?"
"They fired me," he said dryly.
"What the fuck?" I blurted with my mouth full. "What happened?"
He shrugged and took a bite from the apple. "My boss wanted me to gossip about Sophie."
That…yeah, that part of Hollywood sucked ass. "I'm sorry. Unfortunately, there's always gonna be someone wanting to take advantage in this town. But they didn't fire you for saying no, did they?"
"No." He quirked a sly grin. "They fired me because I
accidentally
fucked up a scoop about some singer."
I grinned. He was doing just fine in LA.
"That’s what they get for wanting me to betray my friends," he said with another shrug. "So anyway, I'll start a new job search tomorrow."
Goddammit
.
"Julian," I sighed.
"What?"
I pressed my mouth into a tight line. He
knew
what. We could always use him on set, and I'd even need a new PA for when we went to Paris. My current on-set one couldn’t travel 'cause he was a single dad.
"Nothing." I rolled my eyes and swiped up some chili on a piece of bread. "I just think you're taking this independence thing a bit too far." While I chewed, he opened his mouth to argue, so I shook my head and held up my hand. "Not like that. I get it—I get why you're doing it. But where do you draw the line? Because when I'd made some connections in this town, I was quick to use them. It's how LA works." I demonstrated the ladder with my fork held horizontally. "Connections, money, talent. It's fucked, but it's how it is." I paused. "Okay, sometimes money comes first, too. Either way, it's not talent."
"No, no, I understand that," he said. "But I haven't earned you as a connection. You're family. Had I made connections at
Variety
, of course I would've used them, but I didn't."
Fuck that noise. I understood him, and he had a point, but he assumed I'd give him a job based on only nepotism or something. He also assumed he'd get off easy. That didn't fly with me.
"Do you trust me, Julian?"
His brows knitted together. "Of course I do."
I smiled, 'cause that shit warmed my heart. "Okay. If I said you had a talent I wanted to employ, would you believe me?"
"My coffee's not that awesome."
I threw the last of my bread at him. "Smart-mouthed little prick."
He laughed, dodging it.
"I'm serious," I told him. And I might as well come clean about the score for the film. "Fuck running errands and making coffee. You have a song I want."
That shut him up. He looked surprised, not to mention confused.
I went on to describe my vision for the song, how I wanted it for a scene—coincidentally, the one we were shooting tomorrow—and then how I wanted the piano woven into the main score.
It got me going, and before I knew it, I was pacing in the kitchen, gesturing like a fucking idiot as if I could paint him the entire scene. This was the sorta shit that had bored Emma half to death, so I wasn't counting on Julian to stick around for long.
"And there's this part where Sophie—April," I corrected, "kinda bends at the waist a bit, fists her hair, and screams at the top of her lungs—"
"I read the script, you know." Julian smirked at me.
Oh. I didn't know that. "Okay, so you know." That felt extremely good, for some reason. "Well, that’s the spot. And in your song, there's this crescendo or whatever, and I want it right fucking
there
. I can't get that outta my head. It's a set piece, one I want everyone to remember."
Julian nodded and hopped down from the counter, and then he walked over to the piano. "I think I know which one you're talking about."
As he eased into the song, I followed him over and stood next to the bench. He played flawlessly, the soft notes teasing my ears and slowly building up. I pinched my bottom lip, seeing the scene in front of me, and I nodded to myself, 'cause this was fucking it.
When Julian finished, he sat back and fidgeted with his fingers. Then he glanced up and pushed some hair away from his eyes. "Tennyson called that scene your baby."
I grinned faintly. "Sounds about right." Wanting to seal this deal, I sat down next to him and bumped my shoulder to his. "I want you to be part of this project when we reach post-production, Julian. And trust me when I say it's your talent, not who you are."
Fuck me if he didn't blush. It was sweet as hell.
"That’s overwhelming," he admitted.
"It kinda started at the memorial service," I murmured. "I don't think anyone remembers the speeches, but your playing is unforgettable."
His smile was half proud, half shy. Perfectly him. He knew he was good.
"I thought connections and money came before talent." He bumped my shoulder this time, and I laughed quietly. "I don't know, Noah. I mean…I'd be a damn fool turning this down, so I won't." Sweet mother of relief. "But I don't feel like I'm done with the menial work, if that makes sense. I want to work hard for any success I may or may not get."
"I can make you work," I chuckled. "Trust, kid. I can make you suffer, even."
He looked dubious. "What do you mean?"
I might be pushing it, but fuck it. I had to try. "I need a new PA for Paris."
That earned me a
look
. "Are we really going to have that conversation again?"
"No, 'cause you seem to be under the impression that I'm doing you a favor," I retorted. "You'll regret it. But, hey, if you don't have what it takes, no sweat."
He narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't work on me."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, how hard can it be?" He huffed. "Being a Hollywood director's PA in Paris doesn't exactly scream of menial work and suffering."
He really had no clue. There was no happy medium for a PA in the industry. When they were out of work, they were frantically looking for their next way in. When they did have work, they were either bored out of their minds or so stressed out they wanted to kill themselves.
"Only one way to find out." I gave his leg a squeeze, which I shouldn’t have done. I always wanted more than one touch, and since I, for some reason, had no interest in touching others anymore, I was shit out of luck. "But so you know, it wouldn’t be a favor to you." I withdrew my hand and stood up. "I want you to come with me, but you're not the type of guy to accept a ticket and take the time off."
Julian was mulling things over, eyes down, and I needed to go to bed. I had to be on set in five hours.
"Talk shit over with your man," I suggested. "And come to the set tomorrow. It's gonna be a closed one, but I want your music brain there. Maybe you'll be inspired to write more for the film."
Julian frowned, confused. "I don't need his permission. We're not exclusive."
That was news to me, and I wasn't entirely sure what this meant. But when I noticed he wouldn’t look at me, I got worried.
"Are you okay?"
He nodded and gave me a placating smile. "I'm fine. Go to bed."
"Fuck that, we said no pretending," I told him.
Which made me a hypocrite since I hadn't been completely honest, but whatever.
"Fine," he clipped, "I don't feel a hundred percent, but I will talk to Dr. Kendall about it next week."
Fair enough. Wasn't a whole lot I could argue there.
"Okay," I replied slowly. "Just…you know where to find me if you wanna talk. I may be busy as fuck, but I've always got time for you, kid."
His smile was small, but at least it was genuine this time. "I appreciate it, Noah. Now, go to bed. I'll be there tomorrow."
*
Julian was late.
The sealed-off street was packed with trailers, crew, picnic tables, and now a couple food trucks, but I would've known if he was here. Unless security had let him pass without ID and he'd wandered into the empty building where we were shooting.
I doubted it.
"Thanks, doll." I accepted my lunch from Lucia, my feisty little AD, and got back to my discussion with Shawn. "I want all three cameras on Sophie for this, and I want Paul to Dutch his at the end. Nothing shaky, and we'll start off with the tilt after the smash." I spoke of Shawn's main operator and an angle one should be careful not to overuse, but I had to get my vision out. "So, she goes from here—" I pointed at her line in the script and took a bite of my sub "—to here. We'll do a one-er, and then pickups in case we'll need them later."
The option was several takes, but knowing Sophie was best right off the gate for emotional scenes, I preferred doing several cameras instead.
Shawn brought out his printouts of photos of the set, making notes and floor marks, and I saw one of the crewmembers walking by with a big bucket. It reminded me that it was Five Dollar Friday, so I dug out a couple bills and dropped them in the bucket as he passed.
Old tradition. At the end of the day, one lucky crewmember would be a few hundred bucks richer.
"That’s from me and Sophie," I told him. She was having lunch on set to stay in character, so I didn't want anyone to bother her. She'd even kicked Tennyson out earlier, which had been a comical sight.
"Noah!"
I looked up and saw Julian waiting by security. I nodded for the guard to let him in.
"I'll go talk to Paul," Shawn said. "We should be ready within ten. Rembrandt lighting's done, and it's just the grip for the Dutch that needs adjusting."
"Cheers, man—wait." I chewed the last of my sub. "The Rembrandt is for the next shot."
"Oh! Highlight on the dust bunnies?"
I pointed at him. "That’s the one." Julian reached my table by then, and I took a swig of my soda. "Took you long enough. We're about to begin."
"Then I'm not late." He smiled and sat down next to me, so I introduced him to Lucia and two PAs sitting with us. "Nice to meet you all," Julian said politely. "I've heard great things about you."
I threw an arm around Lucia and gave her cheek a smooch. "She's gonna marry me one day. She just doesn't know it yet."
She laughed and slapped my arm. "I think my husband would object."
"As long as
you
don't object." I winked at her and then stood up. "All right, lemme show you the set, kid."
I licked some sauce off my fingers and jerked my chin for him to follow me inside the building. It was old as hell, but it had obviously passed inspection, so the run-down look was mostly external.
"I thought film sets were more glamorous," Julian said. "What is this place?"
"Old factory." I gestured toward the freight elevator, and we got in with a couple other crewmembers. "Our location scout found it last minute. Once you see the top floor, though… It's perfect." We hadn't needed to knock much down. It already looked rustic and vintage. We'd added new, smaller windows and a vaulted ceiling to turn it into a real attic, but that was about it. And it left plenty of space for the crew and all the gear.