Scared Scriptless (24 page)

“Yes, that would be good to have on file. I can give it to the lawyers to look over.” He starts to get up. “Thanks for letting me know.” And then he’s headed back to his desk, as if we had just been talking about the weather or his golf game.

I get up but don’t go to leave, not sure what to make of Ed’s attitude. I watch him riffle through some things on his desk before he looks at me again.

“Maddy.” He sighs. “It’s business. Of course Craig is going to fight for it, even if he’s wrong. He’d be a fool not to. Look at it this way: It means
Never Cry Wolf
is a good idea. Take it as a compliment.” He goes back to his papers. I head to the door, determined
to take his point of view to heart and not let the pit in my stomach eat me alive.

“But, Ed…,” I say as I’m about to leave. I remember the other element to this. “What if he goes public? Starts talking about how we stole it or something? He could maybe get some press on this.”

“Good point. Get the PR department up to speed on this.” I head out, about to make that call. “Maddy!” I turn back. “Cheer up. It’s free publicity! Let Craig get people talking about our show. It’s a good thing.” I smile at his take on what I saw as a complete nightmare. Ed Greenling has nerves of steel; I could take a lesson from him.

Wearing brand-new hiking boots was a bad idea, and I can feel at least three blisters on my feet, but in all the chaos of getting the camera crews and production up to Wolf, I didn’t put a lot of thought into packing. As a result, I am staying in my old bedroom at my parents for the week with a duffel full of mismatched flip-flops and my usual LA production clothes—shorts, jeans, and casual tops. Nothing that is right for the mountain on this very chilly morning, with my brother, his team of blasters, and a camera crew. I would be embarrassed by my mistake, but I don’t have time.

We have laid out an incredibly intense shooting schedule for the week. I had no idea how stressful it would be for me to work without a specific script to follow. Joel and I worked side by side for the first two days, but with such a tight production time, we had to split up today. He’s got a second camera crew doing interviews, so I’m standing here on what will be the bunny slope when the snow falls, with the guys and a camera crew, wishing I’d had a bit more in-the-field training before flying solo.

“Maddy, what do you think?” I really don’t know how to answer the lead camera operator’s question. Everyone is looking at me, waiting.

“Run it by me again,” I say, a stalling tactic for sure, but I ignore the subtle sighs I hear because I need the minute to think.

“We’ve got the intro shot of them pounding through the forest here. I don’t know how much light we have left to shoot the conversation
about prepping the mountain for winter. Do you need that out here, or should we go back and shoot it in Mike’s office?”

I look at the setting sun. My brain is telling me that it’s smarter, financially and timing-wise, to reposition inside now. But I want it to be outside. That’s one of the biggest selling points of the show—the beauty, the outdoors. That’s what my gut is telling me and after all this time, standing here on my home turf, we’re going with my gut.

“We’re going to do it here. But let’s set it up ASAP.” I point to where I want the cameras and pull Mike aside. “If we run out of light before you’re done, don’t pretend it’s not happening. We want this as realistic as possible. If it’s getting too dark, just say, ‘We’ll keep talking in my office.’ But if you can get it all done before sunset, that would be great.”

“Sure, boss.” Mike waits for the signal that the cameras are rolling and then yells out, “All right, everyone, huddle up,” as if he’s the quarterback. The blasting team gathers around and they get down to business.

I watch from behind the main camera, so proud of my brother who has adapted to this much more smoothly than I could have imagined. And I know he’s done it for me: allowed these cameras to follow him, not even grumbled about waiting for the crew to chase him around, or when the audio guy asks him to wait to speak for a passing airplane. My love for my family and appreciation for them is indescribable, and it only reaffirms my commitment to protecting them and making
Never Cry Wolf
the best I possibly can.

My phone silently buzzes—a text from Billy:

Instead of a wrap party at the end of the production season, Hogan decided to host a “premiere” party for the cast and crew to celebrate the premiere episode of season two. It’s at House of Blues next weekend, and because of the Adam factor, I’ve been trying to ignore it on the calendar. Not sure how to respond, I look up at the scene, making sure that everything is still going smoothly before I return to the phone.

Seems harmless enough, but barely an instant later his reply tells me he can read through my texts, no problem.

What is that supposed to mean, anyway? It’s now been three weeks since I’ve heard from Adam. Ending things was clearly for the best, no matter what Billy, Janine, or even Sophie says.

I decide not to get into it via text.

I hate smartphones.

Like what?
I ask myself. But just as I’m about to ask Billy that very question, Mike wraps up the meeting and the guys all start to head back down the hill. The sunset is a million colors on the horizon behind them.

One of the shooters, a cool chick named Katie, hasn’t moved from her spot. She was shooting the conversation, but now with the guys gone, I follow her camera lens, trying to figure out why she’s still filming.

She must sense me right behind her because without looking away, she whispers, “There’s something in the trees over there. I think it’s a coyote or a fox or something. In silhouette, it’ll look great for the opening credits.” I watch her work the camera, focusing, adjusting her angle slightly, panning from the creature to the sunset and then from the sunset back to the creature.

When she’s finished getting every possible variation of the shot, she brings the camera down to her side, looks at me, and states matter-of-factly, “A good omen.”

I’ll take it.

I miss Adam.
There, I said it—or at least allowed myself to think it. The three little words I’ve been trying to deny for three weeks now. I’ve Googled him a couple or twenty times to see if the paparazzi had any recent pictures of him, only to come up empty. But that didn’t stop me from torturing myself imagining Adam with a hot swimsuit model or Hollywood A-list starlet. However, finding out from Billy that he isn’t dating, or at least that he was going solo to
The Wrong Doctor
premiere party, is turning into a game-changer. Now that I have some downtime before heading back to LA tomorrow afternoon, sitting here on my parents’ sofa, I am lost in thought. Thoughts of Adam. Of seeing him next weekend.

Vaguely I hear my dad shout, “What is
The Big Chill
?” and then silence. I pull myself out of the
Deep Space Nine
headspace I’m in to discover that both my mom and dad are staring at me.

“Honey? Are you okay?”

“Um, yeah,” I fake. “Why?”

“You didn’t answer any of the movie trivia questions in
Jeopardy!
” I force a halfhearted laugh and realize I shouldn’t have bothered. They are on to me.

“I’m just, I don’t know… not feeling myself, I guess.”

“Isn’t the show going well? You said you were finishing up in the morning. Are you worried that it isn’t good?”

“No, Mom. I’m not worried at all.” I rush to defend it. “The
show is great. Actually, it’s surprisingly good. I’m really happy with everything. I think Hogan will be too. I can’t wait to show him the footage.”

“If it’s not work, then what is it?” My dad, sipping his Waxy Sour, doesn’t deviate from the thoughtful interrogation. I look at my feet.

“I broke up with someone, and I’m just not sure I made the right decision.”

“You mean Craig?” My mom and dad exchange glances. “Honey, honestly, he was never right for you. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I was so relieved when he didn’t come back this trip. You are so much better off without him.”

“No, not Craig. And I agree with you; I’m much better off without him.” I don’t bother giving them further anti-Craig ammunition by bringing up the stupid lawsuit. The last thing I need is for my dad to go ballistic over something that may well be resolved after the meeting with Craig’s lawyers tomorrow. I’ve been dreading it all week, but Hogan’s lawyers have made it clear that this is our best option.

“Not Craig? There’s someone else?” My mom is just trying to follow along, but still.

“Jeez, Mom, you don’t have to say it like it’s a crime. Yes, I dated someone else. Briefly. After Craig.”

“Of course it’s not a crime, Madelyn, and like I said, we’re glad you’re over Craig. I guess I’m just surprised to hear there was someone else so quickly.”

“I’ve known him at work for a while. And he let me know he was interested. I said no while I was with Craig, but afterward, he kind of just… I don’t know… swept me off my feet,” I say lamely. Even though it wasn’t lame. It was amazing. It was spectacular. Why did I blow it?

“Why did you end it, then?” she echoes my thoughts.

Finally, the dam breaks.

“Because I’m an idiot, Mom. Because I’m scared.” I start crying. I can see through my tears that my parents are frozen in place. I hardly ever cry, so they don’t know what to do.

“Oh, honey…” My mom finally snaps out of it to touch my shoulder.

“Mom, I picked the stuuuuupidest fight with him,” I wail. “I just couldn’t take it, knowing that he’s… he’s…”

“He’s what?”

“He’s an actor,” I blubber, as if that explains it all.

“I don’t understand, honey. What’s that got to do with anything?” my dad interjects and my mom shushes him.

“You don’t have to tell us. It’s your decision, your life. But if you’re this upset, maybe you need to talk it out.”

I sniffle and unattractively wipe my nose on my sleeve. “When I first went to LA, I just didn’t want to get sucked in to the way things are there. It’s all about appearances and looks and whatnot. I wanted to work hard and be real. And after Brian, yes, I’ve dated, but no one seems right for me. No one seems to get me. So I’ve just been working, and it’s great because I love my job… but I want something more. And then with Craig, I thought he was right for me because he’s like me. He’s from a small town, too, and I thought he saw Hollywood the way I did. Adam is the opposite of all that. He’s in the top fifty on IMDb, for God’s sake.” I am not even sure I am making sense, but now that the floodgates are open, I am letting everything spew. “And then after Craig turned out to be such an asshole—sorry, Dad—I guess it sort of showed me that maybe I could be wrong about Adam too. Even though he’s so sweet to me and we have so much fun, and I think you guys would really like him… I’m not enough for him, you know? Girls, fans, throw themselves at him all the time. I’m
not like that. And the paparazzi follow him around a lot. Can you imagine him in a picture with
me
in
US Weekly
?”

“Why not?” Leave it to my dad to get indignant.

“What do you mean, why not? Dad! It’s… well… it’s me!”

“I still don’t get it,” Dad says obstinately. I look to my mom for understanding.

“Don’t look at me, dear. I agree with your father. Why not you?”

“I’m a script supervisor, that’s why. I work behind the scenes. Even if this show takes off, I’m a producer; I’m not meant to be under the lights. The girls in
US Weekly
know the names of every (sob) new (sob) designer, and I can’t even wear… high heels…” This starts a fresh wave of tears.

My parents exchange a glance that I’ve recognized since childhood. It’s a signal I’m going to hear something I don’t want to hear.

“Madelyn. Look at me.” When your mother uses that tone, I don’t care how old you are, you do as you’re told. “Since you were little, you’ve been so determined to see things only one way. Your way. Your father and I wanted to pull our hair out for how stubbornly you stuck to your idea that everything is black and white. Right and wrong.

“Now, I don’t know this Adam person from… well… Adam, but I know you. And I know how set in your ways you can be. If you’re feeling this rotten about what you did, then I think it’s time you stop thinking only with your brain. And start following your heart. No matter how determined you are to be logical and practical—that’s just not the way it works with love, honey. That’s how I ended up marrying a guy five years younger than me. Back then, it was a big deal—we joke about it now, but you’ve heard the stories. I told him no I can’t tell you how many times.
But one thing you learned from your father—your stubbornness.” She looks at my dad and smiles.

“I knew I was out of your mom’s league,” Dad adds gruffly, his words echoing my sentiments about Adam exactly. “But I also knew I’d make her happier than anyone else ever could.” He puts his hand on her knee.

“Honey, you’ll find that in life, there rarely are things that are done that can’t be undone. You can fix this, but first you have to be willing to put yourself out there.” Mom puts her hand on top of Dad’s.

“Hogan has told us for years he wished you would push your way up the ladder. He said you sit there next to the director and producer and half the time he trusts your judgment, your opinion, more than theirs.” Dad lets that sink in for a second. “You’re the one holding yourself back. So, that’s it, Maddy,” he adds. “We can’t tell you what to do. But life is like football; if you don’t take a few hits along the way, you’re not trying hard enough.”

And sitting there on my parents’ couch, under one of my mom’s afghans, awash in my parents’ love, I have a terrifying thought: They’re right.