“Hands to yourself, asshole,” Thistle said.
“Okay,” the guy said, “no hands.” They all laughed. They walked on down the hall in a cloud of testosterone, one or two of them looking back at her.
Thistle said, “I’m not feeling good about this.”
“There you are, sweetie,” someone trilled, and I turned to see Rodd Hull come around the corner, trailed by Tatiana and the girl who had doubled for Thistle-what was her name?
“Our little star,” Rodd said. He had a clipboard clasped to his chest, but other than that he looked pretty much the same: vest full o’pockets, viewfinder dangling. “Oh, I forgot, you don’t know me from Adam, do you? I’m Rodd Hull.” He waited a moment, apparently anticipating some reaction from Thistle. “Your director,” he added a bit more sharply.
Thistle said, “Uh-huh.”
“And here we have Tatiana and, um, I forget your name, darling,” he said to the other girl.
“Ellie,” she said, as though she was used to it. “Ellie Wynn.”
“And they’re here to get you ready,” Rodd said. “We’ve had a little schedule change. Since you were so, um, lively in the press conference, we’re going to start with something just a wee bit more ambitious.” He leaned forward and looked at Thistle’s lip, then put his hand under her chin and gently turned her head. “Not bad,” he said. “Maybe keep you in three-quarters.”
“Ambitious?” Thistle said.
“Scene twenty-one,” Rodd said. “Why not get one of the big ones out of the way? Make it a little easier later on.”
“What’s scene twenty-one?”
“Tatiana and, um, Ellie will explain it all to you. You do have a script, don’t you, Tatiana?”
“No, Rodd,” Tatiana said wearily. “I always report for work without a script.”
“Wait, wait,” Thistle said. “This was supposed to be an easy day, just a few setups.”
“This will be much better for you,” Rodd said. “As I said, get one of the big ones-”
“I’m going to need cards,” Thistle said “Cue cards.”
“Not that much dialog,” Rod said, glancing at his watch. “Mostly action.” He began to turn away.
“Just a minute,” Thistle said. “Action. What action? What kind of action? What are you trying to-”
“I’ll let the ladies explain it to you, darling,” Rodd said. “I’ve got to get the set ready.” He gave her a critical look. “You’re going to need some lighting,” he said, and then he turned and went down the hall, his feet splayed out like a duck’s.
“Come on, honey,” Tatiana said, taking Thistle’s arm. “We’ll talk you through it.”
“But, what” Thistle stopped. She started to say something, failed to find her voice, and tried again. “It’s those guys, isn’t it? Those guys who just came in?”
Tatiana looked at me and then at Thistle, but said nothing. It was Ellie who said, “It’s, um … sorry, Miss Downing. It’s them.”
27
“Sweetie,” Tatiana was saying. “You’ve got to face it. You’re in digital mode now. It’s either on or off, yes or no. There isn’t anything in between.”
Thistle was caught in an eyelock with her own reflection. She shook her head, about a sixteenth of an inch, the movement so small I wouldn’t have seen it except that one of the two makeup girls, the one who was dabbing foundation on Thistle’s forehead, lifted her sponge for a second. When Thistle’s head was still the girl went back to work, saying to the other, “Maybe some shading under here?” indicating the space below Thistle’s cheekbones.
“The light will do it,” the other makeup girl said. “Can you look up, Thistle? Just with your eyes, honey, not the whole head.” She began doing something to the lower lids of Thistle’s left eye.
“I can do it,” Thistle said.
“I’m sure you can,” Tatiana said. “They’re all pros. The guys, I mean. For what that’s worth. They’re not people you’d run into at the public library or anything, but they know what they’re doing.”
“I meant my eyes,” Thistle said between her teeth. “I can do my own eyes. I’ve never liked having people do my eyes.” She extended a hand, and the makeup girl gave her the pencil.
“Are you going to be okay here?” I asked her.
“Here’s fine,” Thistle said. She tugged down the skin below her left eye and applied an expert line. Her hands were not shaking, as far as I could see. “It’s there that terrifies me.” Her eyes went to Ellie, who was standing with her back against the wall as though she wished she could melt through it and out of the room, maybe out of the day altogether. “How about it, double? Wanna go to work today?”
“Ohhh,” Ellie said, blinking fast. “I’m not-I mean, I’m not that kind of double, just, just for rear shots and exteriors, and …”
“I’m kidding,” Thistle said. “Sort of. How about I give you some of the money they’re going to pay me? Maybe pay me.”
Ellie’s head was going back and forth at surprising speed. “I couldn’t … Ms. Annunziato would never-”
“No,” Thistle said. “She wouldn’t.” Then she lowered her head and seemed to study the hands folded in her lap. Both makeup girls stepped back, and Thistle looked very much alone. She said, “Oh, my God.”
“Hold on,” I said. “I’ll be back.”
I managed not to slam the door behind me, but just barely. The hall was full of people, most of them carrying stuff: lights and equipment, but also odds and ends of furniture. I followed them down the hall and out of the building. The first thing I passed was a jumbo trailer full of mirrors and chairs. The six guys who had barged down the hallway were sitting there, stripped to the waist, smoking and talking as they got makeup sponged on their chests and shoulders. Beyond the trailer, some twenty feet away, was a sort of oversize quonset hut with an airplane door standing open. Inside, it was dark except for a brilliantly illuminated corner at the far end. That was where everyone was going, and I tagged along.
Another three-walled room, this one a bedroom that was obviously supposed to be in some sort of penthouse; large color photographs of a nighttime big-city skyline filled the windows. A king-sized bed with a peach-colored spread on it had been positioned in front of the windows, and above the bed someone had hung a big mirror, about the same size as the bed, facing directly down. Rodd was standing next to a woman who was busily aiming a camera at the mirror. He said, “Are we horizontal?”
“We’re in tight,” the woman said. “It’ll fill the screen exactly.”
“That’s an artsy touch,” I said. “The mirror, I mean.”
Rodd glanced at me and then ignored me, but the woman said, “It’s just coverage. It gives us a different view to cut to when we need an edit. And it’s a little disorienting, so we’ll be able to cut between setups that don’t really match.” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Lauren Wister.”
“Junior Bender,” I said.
“You’re working with Trey, right?”
“I guess.”
She gave me a very quick look. “The idea here is to have four cameras going the whole time. Two of them-this one on the mirror, and the master shot that takes in the entire bed-will be stationary, meaning that the cameras don’t move. The other two, the Steadi-Cams my assistant and I are holding, will move all over the place. The whole idea is to try to get as much as possible in one take. We’re not sure how long Thistle will last.”
“One take of what?”
“Her and the-the guys,” Lauren said. She had the grace to look embarrassed.