Previous First
[Concluding chapter nine]
The guard consulted a clipboard when Desiree announced them, then waved them through without bothering to look at them. Casey wondered if the guard was bored or lazy, until the headlights of Desiree’s roadster illuminated a gaggle of autos in the parking lot. “I thought the studio shut down at six,” he said.
“The offices do,” Desiree said. “But this is the time when everyone—or at least everyone who’s interested—looks at the rushes.”
“The what?”
“The dailies. The film from the day’s shooting. It all has to be reviewed so that the producer and director know if they’re going to have to re-shoot any of it. Actors often watch as well, at least if they have any doubts about their performances.”
“You mean you start work at six and you keep working until late at night? When do all of these parties that I hear about happen?”
“You saw it last weekend,” Desiree said. “Saturday is party night in Hollywood. The rest of the week, we’re either at work or asleep. When I’m on a picture, I often don’t get home before ten. Since I have to be up early—our calls are normally at eight—I usually go to bed as soon as I get home. On some pictures, I’ve worked pretty much around the clock for days at a time. Just about every studio works on a really tight schedule.”
“I’m appalled,” Casey said. “Everybody works these hours? It hardly makes earning a hundred times the average wage seem worth while.”
“What I’m finding most annoying about you, Casey,” Desiree said, “is that I can never tell when you’re being serious and when you’re insulting me for comic effect.” She shut off the Packard and opened her door. “I suggest, though, that you behave yourself if you don’t want me to sabotage your wardrobe fitting in ways you won’t even be aware of.”
“I’ll be good,” Casey said, chastened.
Next Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five
Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine
No comments:
Post a Comment