The Director Gets a Grip Page 3

  After Bianca’s film was ruined, she’d be more open to him.

  Everything depended upon the failure of her project, and he’d make sure it happened.

  He Loved Challenges

  BLAKE BOARDED THE FLIGHT AT LAX at 9:45. After a slight delay before takeoff, and a five-and-a-half-hour flight, he’d landed in St. George, Utah, where he picked up his rental truck. Then he drove to the Hampton Inn.

  After a restful night’s sleep, he rose early and drove for three hours through dramatic, red-rocked, semi-desert landscapes. Finally, the elevation increased and the desert gave way to a greener landscape, though in November all of the trees had already lost their leaves.

  As he noticed the billboard announcing Moonchuckle Bay at the next exit, his phone pinged. Expecting a call from Steven, he kept his eyes on the road and pushed the button on his bluetooth earpiece. “Hi, bro.”

  “Blake Evans Gladwell, what do you think you’re doing?”

  The voice grated like fingernails on a chalkboard — and it wasn’t his brother’s. With a sinking heart, he said, “Miranda?”

  “You’d better believe it’s Miranda. And I’m spitting mad at you.”

  “Whatever for, darlin’?” he asked, masking his irritation.

  “Don’t you darlin’ me, you disloyal jerk.”

  He sighed. “What have I done now?”

  “You know exactly what you’ve done. You’re not going to work on my film.”

  “No, I’m not,” he replied evenly.

  “Why not?”

  He wasn’t about to admit that he was avoiding her. “I got a better offer.”

  After a short silence, she changed tactics and her tone became honey-sweet. She was used to getting her way, and knew that with him, cajolery was usually more effective than threats. “Come on, baby. If you do my film, I’ll owe you some favors. You make me look good with your lighting tricks, and I make you feel good. We were always good together, Blakie.”

  He cringed. There was no sane, middle ground with Miranda. She either acted like they were mortal enemies or as if they’d just stepped out of bed together. “What about your newest husband? Don’t you think he’ll mind? I know I did when I was married to you.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, Timmy doesn’t have to know.”

  “Timmy was your third husband, darlin’. You just married Roger.”

  Her voice went cold as ice. “You are such a jerk, Blake Gladwell. I’m glad I’m not still married to you.”

  “You and me both, sweetheart.”

  She hung up on him and he stared at the road ahead, his hands clutching the wheel. He was more thankful than ever that he’d taken this film. Miranda was poison, and he’d already had a near-fatal dose during their brief marriage.

  He drove up Mane Street, and around Moonchucklc Bay’s Town Square. He smiled and shook his head as he noted the monster-themed businesses, with whimsically monstrous names like Frankenstein’s Secondhand Store, Black Lagoon Saloon, and Count Baklava’s. He was going to like being in this small-town setting. He was tired of L.A., of Hollywood, of women like Miranda.

  At the next red light, he glanced to the right. A beautiful, dark-haired woman was handing some money to a scruffy-haired guy in a wheelchair. He wished he wasn’t in such a hurry to get to the studio because that would make a great photograph. Beauty and the Beast.

  A horn sounded behind him, and Blake glanced up to see that the light had turned green. He stepped on the gas and continued south on Mane Street.

  Glancing at his gas gauge, he pulled into the Phillips 666 for gas.

  Then he got onto Make Believe Boulevard and followed the signs toward Moonchuckle Bay Studio.

  Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up to the ornate, wrought-iron gates of the studio, which were open to the public. Carefully, he drove inside and turned to the left, as instructed in Bianca’s email.

  He found a parking spot, locked the truck, and strode toward the building, whistling. This building was not open to the public, and he showed the pass he’d also been emailed to the guard at the door; a large block of a guy with a name tag that read Tank. Figured.

  Tank checked the pass and motioned him inside. “Welcome to the studio, Mr. Gladwell.”

  “Thanks.”

  The lobby was spacious with a long, slightly curved reception desk that stretched to within six feet of either side of the room. Behind the desk were a hallway and a large double door that led to the main and largest movie set.

  Inside, a brunette woman sat at a reception desk and a blonde stood next to her. They both looked up.

  “Ah, Mr. Gladwell, we’ve been expecting you,” the brunette said. “I’m Cindy Perez and this is Madison Love. She’ll show you back to Ms. Rossi.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, nodding a greeting to them both.

  Madison led the way to a door that opened onto a large studio set. A modern-looking row of shops was being created at one end, houses were being built on the other, and a park-like setting was being fashioned in the middle. A crew of what he’d guess to be close to a hundred people was spread over the large area, each working diligently on his or her assigned project.

  A man called out, “Hey! Our Good Luck Charm has arrived.”

  The rest of the cast turned toward him then and, when they realized who he was, started clapping. A woman said, “We can always use good luck.”

  Blake grinned and mocked a bow, waving a hand. The others laughed. Madison stopped for a moment to glance around and then led him toward a group of women at the far end of the cavernous room.

  Surprised, he recognized the woman he’d seen on the street — the one who’d been giving the wheelchair guy some money — and she was even more beautiful than his brief first glance had revealed.

  But had she possibly beaten him here to the studio? Must have been when he was gassing up the truck, he figured.

  Her eyes were a brilliant blue, set off by high cheekbones. Her generous lips curved upward into a half-smile and were glossed with a shade of lipstick that he’d have named Kiss Me Quick Red. Her jet black hair was pulled up in an elaborate bun that begged to be loosened. He wondered idly how long her hair was when it hung free. He had sixty days to find out.

  Realizing that he was staring slack-jawed, he snapped his mouth shut and smiled at the ravishing woman before him. “If I’d known the star of this movie would be so beautiful, I’d have taken acting lessons, darlin‘.”

  His pick-up line fell flat. Beauty narrowed her eyes, displeased. “I’m not the star, I’m the director.”

  Oops. He struggled to backpedal. “Then you must be Bianca Rossi. I’m Blake Gladwell. I got here as soon as I could.”

  He held his hand out in greeting. She reluctantly extended her own.

  When their hands touched, a zing went through him. At the same time, her eyes widened and she yanked her hand back. Well now, wasn’t that interesting?

  His smiled widened. “I’m pleased to meet you in person, Ms. Rossi.” Boy, was he ever. “I’m ready to get started on this film. Does it have a title yet?”

  “Not yet,” she said, but he thought she might be holding back. No problem. He’d learn soon enough.

  Right now, he just wanted to spend time with his new director. He wanted to get to know her better, maybe even take her to dinner, something he hadn’t contemplated for a long time.

  She apparently didn’t feel the same way, because she nodded curtly and handed him off to one of the other women in the group. “This is Janine Ewings. She’s one of your assistants. She’ll introduce you to all the grips and gaffers and best boys and give you a tour of the studio. Then be sure to talk with Ernie Owens, the dolly grip on your team. He’ll bring you up to speed until our morning meeting tomorrow.” She motioned to the woman beside her; a petite redhead who would have turned his head five minutes ago, but now she paled in comparison to Ms. Rossi.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he told Bianca, who was still frowning.

  “I’ll be glad to sho
w him around, Ms. Rossi.” Janine’s smile was much warmer than Bianca’s. “I’m thrilled to be working with you, Mr. Gladwell.”

  “Call me Blake, darlin‘,” he said with a friendly wink.

  Ms. Rossi’s frown deepened, if that were even possible. “Show Mr. Gladwell the ropes,” she ordered in a clipped tone.

  Now she was just being insulting. “This ain’t my first rodeo, ma’am. I’ll figure out the ropes quick enough.”

  She raised an eyebrow, and he grinned at his new boss. “Glad to be aboard, Ms. Rossi.”

  Then he turned to Janine, who motioned him to the right.

  The redhead looked up at him and smiled warmly. “I’ve seen some of the films you’ve worked on, Blake, and I’m excited to work with such a pro.” She beamed. “Not that the rest of the grips here aren’t pros, of course.”

  “I’m sure they are,” he assured her.

  “First I’ll introduce you to Ernie and the other guys.”

  “All right.”

  He followed her to a door to the right, turning back one more time before following Janine out the door.

  Ms. Rossi was still staring at him and frowning. As soon as he caught her gaze, she turned away.

  The pretty redhead continued to flirt, but he barely noticed her as his thoughts strayed back to the beautiful, cool Bianca.

  He was absolutely blown away by the woman.

  He didn’t believe in love at first sight — that was far too irrational — but he’d definitely just experienced mega-attraction at first sight. Either way, Cupid had sent an arrow flying and at least nicked him.

  He already knew that he wanted Bianca Rossi more than he’d ever wanted a woman in his entire adult life.

  From her reaction, she didn’t want to get involved, which made her a challenge.

  One thing about Blake Gladwell: he loved a good challenge. He reveled in figuring things out, finding solutions, and solving problems. That’s what made him a great key grip.

  He was going to figure out Bianca Rossi, too.

  The Unbridled Power is Going to My Head

  THE MOMENT BLAKE CAUGHT SIGHT of Bianca the next morning, he was struck again with how beautiful she was.

  At call time — six a.m. — everyone grabbed their caffeine of choice while the department heads and actors met with Bianca. She reviewed the pages that would be shot that day with the actors, then sent them to wardrobe. Someone had spotted a plot problem, and they’d brainstormed a solution.

  All in all, he was impressed with her well-organized production.

  He knew from working on other films that lunch would be about six hours after call time, so about noon, and filming would continue for another six or so hours after lunch. Producing a movie made for long days with few days off, especially on this film, where Bianca had already forewarned him they’d be working on a tight schedule.

  He’d been introduced to the other department heads, as well as the first and second A.D.s — Assistant Directors. The first was Dunstan Grant Hennesey, a mountain of a man, fully six inches taller than Blake, and that didn’t happen often considering he was six-two. The second was Gabrielle Beck, a tall, willowy black woman in a power suit.

  After convening the meeting, they all stood. Bianca turned to Blake. “Dunstan will find you later this morning to help you prepare a blackout tent for a night shot this afternoon.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  While Bianca walked off, Blake studied Dunstan. The large man had a shaved head and tattoos on his well-muscled arms. He looked like a bodybuilder: built solid, like he was made of stone, with rock-hard abs, and not an ounce of fat on his entire frame. Blake wouldn’t want to get on his bad side, that’s for sure.

  Dunstan stuck out a large hand. “Good to meet you. Bianca thinks you could use some muscle moving some of the heavier frames.”

  Blake thought of the line from Princess Bride — you are the brute squad — and shook the man’s proffered hand, trying not to wince in the rock-hard grip. When Dunstan released his hand, it was all Blake could do to resist shaking it to restore circulation.

  Raising a brow at Blake’s thinly-veiled discomfort, Dunstan continued, “I suspect she’s right.”

  Blake nodded. “Thanks for the help. Do you know where she wants it set up?”

  Dunstan nodded. “Follow me.” They skirted a large camera and cameraman and a group of extras waiting for the next shot, then worked their way to the fake fronts of a couple of houses. “Behind these.”

  Their job was to eliminate any and all light entering this portion of the set. To accomplish that, they used cloths known as rags plus some plastic sheeting.

  After Dunstan helped move a heavy framework into place, he left to find Bianca. “I’ll be back to see if you need help in a couple of hours.”

  Blake worked alongside four of the members of his new grip team: Phillip, best boy; Buddy, key rigging grip; Ernie, dolly grip; Janine, assistant.

  When Dunstan returned, Blake checked his phone. Sure enough, it had been exactly two hours, though it didn’t seem that long. It only took ten more minutes and a light check to verify that their task was completed.

  Dunstan put a hand up for a high-five and the others groaned. The woman said, “Sorry, Dunstan, but your hand hurts us mere mortals.”

  The big man sighed and held his hand still, and she leaned up and tapped it softly with her palm. “Thanks for being gentle with me.”

  “Sure thing, wimp.”

  “That’s Ms. Wimp to you, Boulder Boy.”

  “That would be Boulder Man to you.”

  “Boulder Boy has such a nice alliterative pull to it.”

  Dunstan glanced at his watch and said, “Two more hours until lunch. Work on the camera setup for the café scene.”

  “Yes, sir,” Blake said. He and his team moved to the other end of the lot, and began working there.

  They had plenty to do, and he enjoyed that.

  At noon, the team headed toward the door to make their way to the cafeteria.

  Philip turned back to Blake. “Are you coming with us?”

  Blake spotted Bianca and shook his head. He had this incredible urge to ask her out right then and there. Probably foolish, but he tended to listen to his gut hunches. “Save me a seat. I have something I need to do first.”

  “You got it.”

  The actors were served food first, and generally the director would be the last to eat. The bunch of grips and the large assistant director headed to the cafeteria, while Blake turned toward Bianca. She stood next to the actress playing the romantic lead, Rachel Poole. A pretty woman, he supposed, but she seemed a little nervous.

  Blake waited a few feet away until their conversation ended. As Rachel walked toward the food, Bianca looked at him. “May I help you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He stopped two feet away from her. She was nearly as tall as he was in her three-inch heels, and her brilliant blue eyes flashed with some emotion he couldn’t identify.

  He was way out of his comfort zone here, but he went ahead anyway. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and all that. “I’d like to know if you’ll have dinner with me tonight.”

  Bianca smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Mr. Gladwell—”

  “Blake.”

  Her smile faded. “I do not date members of my crew. While I am flattered by your request, I must respectfully decline.”

  Respectfully decline. She’d even rejected him in an elegant, classy manner. Cool as ice. But she had fire in her eyes and he was sure she’d felt the same attraction he had. But he’d obviously moved too fast, like the idiot he was. He’d give it some time and maybe ask again later. Unperturbed, he said, “Right. I’ll go get lunch. Would you like me to bring you some?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Nodding his head, Blake walked across the set, aware of eyes upon him. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d made a fool of himself, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Oddly, he found himself more disappointed than usual wit
h Bianca Rossi’s response.

  He glanced back.

  She was gorgeous. And, unfortunately, she was still frowning. Then she narrowed her eyes at him. She reached for her phone and placed it to her ear.

  He smiled and turned away. He might still want to date her, but she’d pretty much made clear her thoughts on the subject.

  It was more than just him moving too fast, he thought. Perhaps it had been a mistake to take this job. He wasn’t sure he wanted to work daily with a woman who he was this strongly attracted to if she wasn’t interested. She was as icy as the rumors suggested.

  Shrugging, he acknowledged that he just needed to tough it out. This deal was only for sixty days. He could hang in there for two months, collect his paycheck, and add a substantial chunk to his savings for his property.

  He was missing lunch, so he left the set and went out into the lobby. It was empty except for the receptionist, who was on the phone, speaking softly. “Yes, Ms. Rossi, the bank just confirmed that the funds were delivered to the family’s medical fund. Yes, ma’am. Twenty thousand. Yes, I’ll keep it to myself, as usual.”

  She hung up and looked down at her desk.

  Intrigued, Blake walked closer and asked, “Did I understand correctly? Did Ms. Rossi just pay twenty thousand dollars to help a family in need?”

  Startled, Cindy looked up and froze. “I’m not supposed to say anything.”

  “Too late. I already heard. But don’t worry, I won’t repeat it to anyone. I just think it’s nice that we work for such a philanthropic boss.”

  “Oh, she is. She’s always doing nice things for people without wanting anyone to know.” She raised her finger to her lips in a be quiet motion. “But please don’t tell anyone.”

  “My lips are sealed.” He shot her a Texas grin. “What was the medical need?”

  “You promise you won’t say a word?”

  When he nodded, she motioned for him to come closer. He did, and she whispered, “There’s a little boy in town who needed surgery, and the family doesn’t have enough to cover the bill. Ms. Rossi just paid it for them.”

  “Anonymously,” he said, quietly.