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Authors: Claire Adams
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comfortable kissing each
other.”
With that, Dutch spots someone else that
he needs to talk to more pressingly than me and he runs off after him.
All around, people are going.
Everywhere around me, people are walking
with purpose, performing their tasks, moving on to the next one: All of them
have something to do.
Me, on the other hand? I’m in between
takes and the only thing I have to do right now is figure out a way to make it
look like Damian and I have the kind of physical chemistry that will translate
onto film.
It’s not hard to fake arousal, but faking
intimacy—not just physical or sexual intimacy, but emotional, spiritual
closeness? That’s one of the more difficult things an actor can be asked to do,
though we’re asked to do it all the time.
Everyone I’ve talked to in the business
has their own way of dealing with it.
Some people pretend that whoever they’re
supposed to love on film is their spouse or their mistress or, in one rather
odd case, a 1994 Honda Accord—I have no idea how that one actually worked, and
I have no inclination to change that fact.
Me? I’ve never really been put in a
position where that kind of thing would really matter.
You do your best when you’re paying your
dues in the B-movies or theater or commercials or whatever you’re doing while
you’re waiting for your big break, but a director who’s making a film about a
giant shark and a giant leopard doing battle on the streets of Manhattan isn’t
going to bother telling you if your attraction for the man who just killed a
dozen cultists and decapitated a golden statue doesn’t come across as
believable.
Shit, if it were believable, it would probably ruin the movie.
So, here I am, just standing around,
waiting for something to happen.
Eventually, I’m going to figure out what
to do about Ben, but I have serious doubts that that’s going to happen before
my time’s up. I would just call him now and set up a time to see the pictures
he’s blackmailing me with, but it shouldn’t be much longer before I’m due on
camera and I really don’t want to have to call Ben twice.
For now, though, I’ve got nothing to do,
so I just wait for Damian to finish up his conversation with Trey the Security
Guy.
I’m not waiting long.
“Hey there,” I say, walking over to Damian
as Trey leaves.
“…hey…” Damian responds, staring after
Trey.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Oh, it’s just one of those—it’s this…it’s
nothing,” he says finally.
Damian’s pale and sweating. Whatever’s
bothering him, though, it doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about it.
“I think you and I should schedule some
time to meet up over the next week or so,” I tell him.
“ Why’s that?” he
asks. “Oh, right,” he says, “the whole blackmail thing.”
“Yeah, I’m probably going to want to talk
to you more about that,” I tell him. I shouldn’t be this nervous. “I talked to
Dutch, though,” I start again. “He said that he doesn’t want us to…I mean, he
thinks it would be best if we looked like we were…”
It’s really not that hard to put into
words, but I’m having one hell of a time trying to figure out how to do it.
“I don’t know what you’re asking me,”
Damian says absently.
“Dutch wants us to figure out a way to
make it look like we’ve got sexual chemistry,” I tell him. “Do you have any
ideas?”
“ That’s what you’re worried about?” Damian asks, finally smiling a bit. “We can knock
that out in a weekend. Just to let you know, though, this is one of those life
situations where transference is a very real possibility.”
“Transference?” I ask. “You mean like when
a patient falls in love with their therapist?”
“Same thing,” he answers. “Just try not to
fall too far in love with me, though. I have a lot on my plate right now.”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “I’ll try to keep a
handle on that.”
Chapter Six
The Limitations of
other.”
With that, Dutch spots someone else that
he needs to talk to more pressingly than me and he runs off after him.
All around, people are going.
Everywhere around me, people are walking
with purpose, performing their tasks, moving on to the next one: All of them
have something to do.
Me, on the other hand? I’m in between
takes and the only thing I have to do right now is figure out a way to make it
look like Damian and I have the kind of physical chemistry that will translate
onto film.
It’s not hard to fake arousal, but faking
intimacy—not just physical or sexual intimacy, but emotional, spiritual
closeness? That’s one of the more difficult things an actor can be asked to do,
though we’re asked to do it all the time.
Everyone I’ve talked to in the business
has their own way of dealing with it.
Some people pretend that whoever they’re
supposed to love on film is their spouse or their mistress or, in one rather
odd case, a 1994 Honda Accord—I have no idea how that one actually worked, and
I have no inclination to change that fact.
Me? I’ve never really been put in a
position where that kind of thing would really matter.
You do your best when you’re paying your
dues in the B-movies or theater or commercials or whatever you’re doing while
you’re waiting for your big break, but a director who’s making a film about a
giant shark and a giant leopard doing battle on the streets of Manhattan isn’t
going to bother telling you if your attraction for the man who just killed a
dozen cultists and decapitated a golden statue doesn’t come across as
believable.
Shit, if it were believable, it would probably ruin the movie.
So, here I am, just standing around,
waiting for something to happen.
Eventually, I’m going to figure out what
to do about Ben, but I have serious doubts that that’s going to happen before
my time’s up. I would just call him now and set up a time to see the pictures
he’s blackmailing me with, but it shouldn’t be much longer before I’m due on
camera and I really don’t want to have to call Ben twice.
For now, though, I’ve got nothing to do,
so I just wait for Damian to finish up his conversation with Trey the Security
Guy.
I’m not waiting long.
“Hey there,” I say, walking over to Damian
as Trey leaves.
“…hey…” Damian responds, staring after
Trey.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Oh, it’s just one of those—it’s this…it’s
nothing,” he says finally.
Damian’s pale and sweating. Whatever’s
bothering him, though, it doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about it.
“I think you and I should schedule some
time to meet up over the next week or so,” I tell him.
“ Why’s that?” he
asks. “Oh, right,” he says, “the whole blackmail thing.”
“Yeah, I’m probably going to want to talk
to you more about that,” I tell him. I shouldn’t be this nervous. “I talked to
Dutch, though,” I start again. “He said that he doesn’t want us to…I mean, he
thinks it would be best if we looked like we were…”
It’s really not that hard to put into
words, but I’m having one hell of a time trying to figure out how to do it.
“I don’t know what you’re asking me,”
Damian says absently.
“Dutch wants us to figure out a way to
make it look like we’ve got sexual chemistry,” I tell him. “Do you have any
ideas?”
“ That’s what you’re worried about?” Damian asks, finally smiling a bit. “We can knock
that out in a weekend. Just to let you know, though, this is one of those life
situations where transference is a very real possibility.”
“Transference?” I ask. “You mean like when
a patient falls in love with their therapist?”
“Same thing,” he answers. “Just try not to
fall too far in love with me, though. I have a lot on my plate right now.”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “I’ll try to keep a
handle on that.”
Chapter Six
The Limitations of
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