Teen Dreams Book 4
Copyright© 2023 by ProfessorC
Chapter 19
Cal and I spent the day quietly together, she was tired from her performance and I had to make sure I didn’t tire myself out for the drive back down south.
After we spent an hour with our friends down in the town centre, we had one of Aunt Mary’s special Sunday roast dinners and Cal walked me out to the car and kissed me goodbye before I set off.
I was surprised, the journey took less than three hours with no delays, and I arrived back at the hotel in plenty of time to get a light meal and do a couple of hours script reading up in my room.
We spent Monday morning touring the studios, learning where the production office, make-up, costume and, most importantly, catering departments were. We were also allocated our trailers, really just caravans of the type you’d find on any touring site. We didn’t get the luxury palaces that the studios in Hollywood supplied, I noted with interest that they had our character names prominently printed on the doors with our real names underneath in much smaller lettering, also that apart from Greg, the Admiral and Greg’s mother, all the other principles were accommodated two to a trailer. I was also introduced to my personal assistant, Gemma. Gemma was a brunette, about five foot four, slim, brown eyes and with what I can only describe as a prodigious chest.
What was most memorable about her was her smile. It was big, wide and warm. She had recently graduated from London University with a degree in film and, she told me had ambitions to be an editor.
“So why are you here?” I asked her as she let the pair of us into my trailer after lunch.
“Just to get some experience in the industry,” she said, “just about everybody has to do it. You come along and work for next to nothing and hope somebody spots you and gives you a paying job.”
“So how much are they paying you?”
“Eighty pounds a week,” she said.
“That won’t even get you a crappy bedsit in an area you wouldn’t want to be in anyway, how do you manage?”
“It’s not too bad, my parents are only twenty miles away, so I live with them while I’m here and I have a moped.”
“So, basically, you’ll be paid about a thousand pounds for the run of the shoot?”
“I wouldn’t think it would be that much, I don’t see them taking me to Costa Rica with you all.”
“I’ll see what I can do for you and the rest of the PAs.” I said.
“Do you think that the producers would take any notice of you, I mean, David, I know you’re the star of the movie, but you’re still a what, eighteen-year-old boy?”
“Seventeen,” I replied, “and I’m the alleged star, but I’m also one of the Executive Producers. I’ll call Sam tonight.”
“Sam?”
“Sam Goldfarb, our producer, you’ll meet him soon. He’s also sort of my mentor. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”
“It sounds like there’s a story there.”
“There is, I may tell it to you one day. For now, just leave the matter of your employment with me.”
The rest of the day went incredibly slowly, while I was poked, prodded and measured in intricate detail by the costume department. They explained it was to make sure I hadn’t put any weight on since the costume fitting, then I was photographed in various shades of make-up by the make-up people. All of it was a complete waste of time, I’d done that a couple of weeks before and I was very careful about what I ate. Finally, at getting on for six-thirty, I climbed into the minibus for the journey back to the hotel.
After changing into jeans and a t-shirt I wandered back down to the restaurant, where I found our esteemed director Phil alone at a table.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked.
He gestured at the seat opposite him.
“Please do.”
I sat and picked up the menu. I don’t know why I bothered, it was the same menu that it had been since I’d arrived two weeks earlier.
After the waitress had arrived to take our orders, poached salmon for me, sirloin steak for him, he looked at me and asked, “What was it brought you into this game, David? You don’t seem like the usual self-obsessed spoiled brat that most teenaged actors are.”
“I hope I never will be,” I replied, “it was pure accident. I was in the school play, against my will, the teacher basically just told me I was doing it. It happened that one of his old University friends was a Hollywood producer and saw me in it. He saw something in me that I didn’t even know was there, screen-tested me for the part of Greg and the rest, as they say, is history. How about you?”
“My father ran a small movie theatre in Aurora, Illinois. I spent most of my childhood in a darkened room watching those magical, flickering images up on the screen and just fell in love with the idea. I graduated from High School and went to USC to study film, started as an assistant editor at Sony, got the chance to direct a couple of commercials. Moved from there to TV documentaries and now, I’m directing my first feature.
“I thought you’d directed others.”
“No, I’ve been first AD and second unit but this is my first solo effort.”
“Well it will be nice to have someone with a fresh view of things in charge.”
“Thank you,” he said, just as our food arrived.
“What do you have lined up after this?” he asked me between mouthfuls.
“University,” I said, “I want something to fall back on if this suddenly turns up it toes.”
“Are you going to study film?”
“No, computing,” I said, “like I said, something to fall back on.”
“I don’t think you’ll need it, David, you’re a director’s dream. You turn up on time, prepared, knowing your lines and you don’t make ridiculous demands. I’m really looking forward to working with you.”
“And I with you,” I said, “there is one thing I’m wondering about, the PAs.”
“What about them?” he asked.
“I was talking to mine earlier and she tells me that they’re only being paid eighty pounds a week.”
“That’s probably true, but they are getting valuable experience that will help them in getting a better job in the future.”
“I just wonder whether the studio is aware that in this country, minimum wage has a legal standing and that there’s a minimum amount affixed to it, not like in America where minimum wage seems to mean as little as you can get away with.”
“Well, it’s open to you performers to tip them, that would make it up.”
“That’s not how it works over here, you can’t count tips as part of the minimum pay, they have to be separate.”
“So what are you proposing we do about it?”
“I’m going to speak to Sam tonight, I’ll bring it up with him, he’s an honourable man, I’m sure we can sort it out.”
“Let me,” he replied, “I’ll pass on what you’ve told me about minimum wages and I’m sure he’ll come up with a solution.”
“Well, I need to speak to him anyway, about the Costa Rica trip, but, if you want to take responsibility for that I’m OK with it.”
He didn’t answer, just nodded slowly.
We finished our food in silence then said goodnight and I went up to my room where I rang Cal and spent half an hour chatting, then called home and spoke to my sister, since Mum had informed Dad that he had very kindly offered to take her out for the evening. I never did call Sam that night.
There was, as usual, nothing on TV worth watching, so I booted my laptop and spent a couple of hours playing pointless, mindless games online.
At ten-thirty I decided it was time for bed, so after taking care of business in the bathroom, I turned in, setting my alarm for six.
After a run, shower and breakfast I climbed into the minibus at seven-thirty along with the rest of the cast and we set off for the studio.
Today we were rehearsing the last scene of the film, which was a big scene where Greg and his squad were being decorated by the Emperor for their bravery in the face of overwhelming odds.
As I climbed out of the minibus, Gemma met me and tried to take my holdall from me.
“That’s fine,” I said, “I can manage it.”
“But it’s supposed to be my job,” she said.
“No, Gemma, your job is to get me coffee, make sure I get to wherever I need to be in the studio when I need to get there, get me coffee, pick up change sheets and call sheets, get me coffee and generally anything else I need getting.”
She looked surprised.
“Oh,” I continued, “and did I mention that it’s your job to get me coffee. Black, no sugar and not, ever under any circumstances, instant.”
“Got that,” she said, “and thank you.”
“For what?”
“Phil, the director called all of us PAs together this morning and told us that we were to be paid nearly twice as much as we were originally told.”
“That was Phil’s doing, not mine,” I said.
“He said it was your idea,” she said.
“I merely pointed out that what they were doing was confusing the American idea of unpaid interns with the fact that we have a legal minimum wage in this country and that it would be illegal to pay you all less than that.”
“It was still your idea, so thank you, from all of us.”
“All right,” I said, “but since you’re getting paid for it, you need to start earning it, go and get me a coffee from the refectory. I’ll see you over at the sound stage.”
“I’ll need some money,” she said.
I took my wallet out, extracted a twenty pound note and handed it to her.
“It’s not that expensive,” she said.
“Then let me know when you need some more and pay for whatever you have out of that too.”
I walked across to the sound stage where the presentation scene would be filmed, Officially the Albert R Broccoli 007 stage, the largest in Europe, but known affectionately as the Cubby Broccoli.
Inside it was huge, but the area we were using was quite narrow and covered in huge green screens. The actual set would be inserted in post-production using CGI, all that we had was a walkway covered in scarlet carpet and a platform at one end with a throne and six chairs. Tomorrow, the chairs would be occupied by two actors, playing the emperor and Admiral and five extras. But, for today, the Emperor’s part would be read in by the first AD.
We spent the day on the timing of what was going to be less than five minutes of screen time. Phil had a piano track of the music written for the scene and we had to time our walk so that we hit specific points on the more than one hundred metre length of the great hall that the effects team were going to create electronically around us. Our first job the next day would be to actually film it in costume and with the dialogue at the right points. It was complicated, but we were determined to get it right. To get the production off to a good start.
And it did, by the end of the week we had nearly fifteen minutes of the screenplay on film in a form that could be used and I got back to the hotel on Friday afternoon just as Cal was walking up to the registration desk. I walked up behind her, put my arms round her and nuzzled her neck.
“Stop it Steve, David will be here any minute,” she said, before twisting in my arms smiling up at me and planting a scorching kiss on me.
Just at that moment, Sue Perkins walked into reception with her bag.
“Hi, Sue,” I greeted her, “come and meet Cal.”
I did the introductions and the two girls stood sizing each other up. Then Cal smiled, a warm, open smile.
“I hear you’re coming to visit next weekend,” she said.
“Are you sure it’s OK?” Sue asked, “I know David invited me, but I wouldn’t want to you to think that I was trying...”