Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
We went over the scenes and my plans for them while we feasted on seafood platters, plenty of beer, and salad the way you could only get it around the Mediterranean. By halfway through dinner, Brad had visibly relaxed, and he was looking forward to shooting. He said he loved acting but was also interested in directing, so when he asked if he could come with us when we returned to wrap up the last scenes in Paris, I agreed right away.
"You can shadow my PA," I said, licking butter off my thumb. "Julian is always nearby."
"PA in this case is short for man of Noah's dreams." Sophie smiled widely. She was a bit lit. It was cute.
"No argument from me, but I'm trying to keep it professional here," I laughed. "Julian almost had my head when I referred to him as my boyfriend on set the other week."
Brad chuckled and Sophie aww'd for some reason.
"He wants to impress you and show his worth," she said with a firm nod. "Speaking of. If I want to show my worth tomorrow, I should get some sleep. Someone has to be up at four to sit through a hard-core makeup session."
True, Brooklyn was gonna add ten years to Sophie. And both Tennyson and I were demanding fuckers. We wanted it subtle and real for when I shot close-ups.
*
Sophie wasn’t the only one who was up early the next morning, though. So was I. I showed up at the hospital around five, and the parking lot looked like a war zone. The only reason we'd been allowed to shoot here was because the east wing was under construction.
I passed our trailers and the trailers that belonged to the construction site and followed Lucia inside. We'd only flown down with the first unit, so we didn’t have too much crew milling about.
She brought me up to speed, and time flew between having the lighting adjusted, covering anything that looked too out of place for an American hospital room, and going over continuity issues with the script supervisor.
"I want a complete run-through of everything before lunch," I said. "See it as a rehearsal." We'd spend the rest of the day as well as tomorrow reshooting and getting more angles, but I wanted to run it all through once before. It would also help my script supervisor keep track of everything on screen.
Another perk of shooting digitally was you could include rehearsals without worrying about wasting expensive film. So regardless of the first results today, there was no waste.
"Understood." She nodded.
Julian showed up little past seven with coffee, breakfast, and a hard kiss.
"We're at work, baby." I smirked and took a sip of my coffee. "I thought kissing was a no-no."
He shrugged and started walking backward toward Lucia and Shawn. "Sometimes I can't help myself." He winked and then turned around.
I chuckled to myself, feeling ridiculous for how happy that guy made me.
Soon, everything was set up, and I slipped into director-mode. Sophie was beautiful, which might've been an odd way to describe her. Beautiful for her role. She looked thin, her hair lacked luster, and her aging had been created realistically.
Brad came down the hall as well, dressed like a shy high school kid with glasses, a flannel over a T-shirt, a backpack, and khakis.
Lucia and I worked together like a well-oiled machine, and as soon as Shawn declared he was ready, Lucia called for cameras to roll.
I didn’t use my monitor this time. Brad stood outside the observation window of Sophie's room, and she was inside. The pale walls were empty, and she paced aimlessly, sometimes pausing to draw invisible patterns with her finger.
I called for action, and Shawn filmed Sophie from the outside of the room—Brad's point of view. Then slowly, Shawn included Brad in the frame, revealing that years had passed. We saw Brad hesitating and, in the end, not entering the room.
"Cut!"
We did the scene once more, and then Lucia announced the second set was finished in the art studio.
In there, April's paintings were stacked, canvas by canvas, and some hung on the walls. With the cameras rolling, Sophie mixed some paint and straightened in front of a blank canvas. Head tilted, Shawn catching her expression from the side.
She hummed. Brad watched in the background while she remained oblivious to his presence.
The humming morphed into the lullaby April used to sing to her son.
I made a motion to keep filming. It wasn’t the main angle I wanted, but Sophie was acing it, so I needed to see what she'd bring. It wouldn’t be the first time something from a rehearsal shot made the final cut.
"Don't worry, dear boy," she sang softly, "Mommy can shelter you well. Don't worry, dear boy, Mommy can catch you stars." The canvas wasn’t in the shot when she started painting. And even though it would be replaced with another canvas to show April's art, Sophie drew the brush gracefully and with purpose. "Don't worry, dear boy, Mommy can keep you safe. Don't worry, dear boy, Mommy can catch you stars."