Agnes, Britta, and Charles stayed behind the camera. “I’d appreciate some help finding Dana. She is three years old, has shoulder-long . . .”
Roger threw some German efficiency into action. “We need no description, there is only one three-year-old on the whole studio campus. Where last seen?”
“I fell asleep with her in my arms in the lounge. I woke up, and she was gone,” Rick explained. Louise watched him, poor father. And poor baby. Little Dana had been the one watching everything from the secure place behind her father’s or her sister’s legs.
“Laurie, get security in here. Have them check stages 21, 22, and 28,” Roger directed. He turned to the crew, activated the public address system. “Listen up, a little kid is missing. Three years old. Split up and systematically search the soundstage and the admin rooms. Shooting is suspended, all teams back here in fifteen for report! Laurie, get us a floor plan of each level. Zack, zack, zack, eins, zwei, drei . . .” he quoted his idol, Billy Wilder, and clapped his hands.
“Thanks,” Rick said. Louise felt bad for him. First Dana missing and now stopping a multimillion-dollar film production.
Roger fumed at Josh. “I own you for this! Louise, Josh, use the fifteen minutes to improve the scene still ahead of us!”
The crew started searching the stage, looking behind every box, into every room and cupboard. Some security gorillas appeared and started searching the stages close by, also interrupting the shooting for two other productions.
Rick, the kids, and Hal helped as best as they could, shouting Dana’s name to come out, no fear. But Dana was nowhere to be found.
Louise and the other actors had gone back to their dressing rooms. Josh and Walter wanted to do some improvisation in their part of the scene, while Louise was craving to be alone for a few minutes. The schedule today had been tiring, and she wasn’t feeling her best anyway. A welcome break, if not for the wrong reason. She had Emile make her an herbal tea, went to her dressing room, and put on some light music. Paul Simon started crooning about whales and blue light.
What wrong with you, Lou-baby? Two weeks ago you would have taken your script and run through it, or organized the next day with Emile. Tired, tired, tired.
She lay down on the comfy couch that Emile had personalized for her with some cushions and decorations from home. She reached for an old, ragged Steiff bear that she had gotten at one of her first red-carpet events from a little girl in the crowd. It had light yellow fur, spotty in the typical cuddle places, like on the belly and the back. But her hands grabbed air; the bear was gone. Great, someone had stolen her bear. She hugged one of the cushions instead, closed her eyes, and tried to relax.
Relaxation wouldn’t come—too many people moving outside the door, fought off by Emile.
I am not alone. The realization swept over her. She couldn’t say what gave it away, but she felt sure. Or I am turning certified psycho. Then she remembered what the studio was in the middle of and got up carefully. She looked under the couch—only a number of shoeboxes. There was no wardrobe, the dressing table had no drawer, the costumes of the day hung on a rolling coat hanger. Of course she was alone.
Then, again, maybe not.
When in doubt, fake it.
“Dana, dear. I can see you,” she whispered. “You think I can’t see you, but I can.” She started moving around in her dressing room and played a game with herself. “I think I’m getting hot. Little Dana is somewhere close.” She went to the dressing table, watching the rest of the room through the mirror. “Is little Dana behind the wastebasket?” She grabbed the basket and playfully looked inside. “No, she is not. Is she . . . in the drawer?” Louise opened the middle drawer of the table. “Of course not, she is not that small. But I am getting hot, I know it.”
There was a rustling in the room,
Roger threw some German efficiency into action. “We need no description, there is only one three-year-old on the whole studio campus. Where last seen?”
“I fell asleep with her in my arms in the lounge. I woke up, and she was gone,” Rick explained. Louise watched him, poor father. And poor baby. Little Dana had been the one watching everything from the secure place behind her father’s or her sister’s legs.
“Laurie, get security in here. Have them check stages 21, 22, and 28,” Roger directed. He turned to the crew, activated the public address system. “Listen up, a little kid is missing. Three years old. Split up and systematically search the soundstage and the admin rooms. Shooting is suspended, all teams back here in fifteen for report! Laurie, get us a floor plan of each level. Zack, zack, zack, eins, zwei, drei . . .” he quoted his idol, Billy Wilder, and clapped his hands.
“Thanks,” Rick said. Louise felt bad for him. First Dana missing and now stopping a multimillion-dollar film production.
Roger fumed at Josh. “I own you for this! Louise, Josh, use the fifteen minutes to improve the scene still ahead of us!”
The crew started searching the stage, looking behind every box, into every room and cupboard. Some security gorillas appeared and started searching the stages close by, also interrupting the shooting for two other productions.
Rick, the kids, and Hal helped as best as they could, shouting Dana’s name to come out, no fear. But Dana was nowhere to be found.
Louise and the other actors had gone back to their dressing rooms. Josh and Walter wanted to do some improvisation in their part of the scene, while Louise was craving to be alone for a few minutes. The schedule today had been tiring, and she wasn’t feeling her best anyway. A welcome break, if not for the wrong reason. She had Emile make her an herbal tea, went to her dressing room, and put on some light music. Paul Simon started crooning about whales and blue light.
What wrong with you, Lou-baby? Two weeks ago you would have taken your script and run through it, or organized the next day with Emile. Tired, tired, tired.
She lay down on the comfy couch that Emile had personalized for her with some cushions and decorations from home. She reached for an old, ragged Steiff bear that she had gotten at one of her first red-carpet events from a little girl in the crowd. It had light yellow fur, spotty in the typical cuddle places, like on the belly and the back. But her hands grabbed air; the bear was gone. Great, someone had stolen her bear. She hugged one of the cushions instead, closed her eyes, and tried to relax.
Relaxation wouldn’t come—too many people moving outside the door, fought off by Emile.
I am not alone. The realization swept over her. She couldn’t say what gave it away, but she felt sure. Or I am turning certified psycho. Then she remembered what the studio was in the middle of and got up carefully. She looked under the couch—only a number of shoeboxes. There was no wardrobe, the dressing table had no drawer, the costumes of the day hung on a rolling coat hanger. Of course she was alone.
Then, again, maybe not.
When in doubt, fake it.
“Dana, dear. I can see you,” she whispered. “You think I can’t see you, but I can.” She started moving around in her dressing room and played a game with herself. “I think I’m getting hot. Little Dana is somewhere close.” She went to the dressing table, watching the rest of the room through the mirror. “Is little Dana behind the wastebasket?” She grabbed the basket and playfully looked inside. “No, she is not. Is she . . . in the drawer?” Louise opened the middle drawer of the table. “Of course not, she is not that small. But I am getting hot, I know it.”
There was a rustling in the room,
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