.'
'Oh yeah, I'm beating them off with a stick baby, beating them off with a stick,' she joked thinking of her daily ride home in Bob's estate car. The aphrodisiac of fame!
'TV is . . .' she began. TV was what? Not exactly as she'd expected? Much more extreme? Much more low budget? Much less glamorous?
'. . . not quite as easy as it looks,' she decided.
'Damn right!' Connor was delighted to agree. He'd lost count of the number of jumped-up actors who asked him why he did something as 'easy' as The Manor when he could be doing something much more 'serious' instead.
'I can't believe how long the details take. Doing every shot, every bit of voiceover from sixteen different angles. It makes me want to scream. But the hard stuff,' Annie added, 'the transforming shy wallflower into belle of the ball, they expect that in fifteen seconds!'
'Well, baby, you are at the very tough and gritty end of reality TV,' Connor sympathized, 'The cliff face, you could say. Who knows what's going to happen next? You could hang in there and be elevated to the TV hall of presenter/personality fame . . . or you could cut loose and fall away into the sea of failed wannabees, never to be heard of again. Still,' his tone perked up cheerily, 'you've gotta be in it to win it.'
'So it's not a career path, it's a lottery?'
'Exactly.'
'Why did I give up my nice, glamorous, staff-discounted day job?' Annie had to ask. 'Please remind me.'
'Because like the rest of us glory-hunters, you wanted your shot at the big one.'
Annie considered the day she'd had today and the day she faced tomorrow: six hours in a shopping mall trying to transform Cath with £250. And Cath wasn't even sure if she wanted to be transformed!
Even when filming was over, there was still so much work to be done: the debriefings with Finn, then all the additional little camera shots that Bob would insist on. Annie smiling, Annie nodding, Annie shaking her head and looking troubled. 'We might need these shots in the edit,' he'd explained. 'It's always good to have plenty of spare bits and pieces.'
'Connor, if this is what it's like making cheap TV, what the hell is it like to make films?' she wondered.
'Oh the agony,' Connor agreed, 'and yet the ecstasy!'
'Have you heard about that big thing you were up for?' Annie asked.
'Which one?' Connor said, but more anxiously than boastfully. 'I'm up for about eight, but I'll probably be lucky if even one of them is made. I think that's the strike rate for films in development right now. Only one in ten ever sees the light of day.'
'Are you worried?' she asked with some concern.
'Not yet,' he told her. 'I can always fall back on the other great LA industry.'
'Drugs?!'
'No, porn. No-one ever tells you this, but LA is only 15 per cent movies and then 85 per cent porn. That's why everyone's so buff. To make sure they can play the part of Miguel the devastatingly attractive pizza delivery boy, if the rent's overdue.'
'You worry me,' Annie told him. 'You can come back to London, you know. There's a new series of The Manor , isn't there? And what about the West End?'
'Yes . . . but coming back with my tail between my legs isn't really what I'd planned to do.'
Me neither. Annie couldn't help thinking; once again she was determined that she wouldn't be going back to The Store.
'However you come back, Connor, you'll be welcomed with open arms, by all of us,' she reassured him.
'You are a very lovely woman.'
'I know. How are your food intolerances?' She tried to sound as if she meant this, but it didn't come out right.
'Take that smirk off your face,' Connor commanded. 'Ever since I stopped eating grains, I am struggling to keep the weight on.'
'Maybe I should try it . . .'
'I don't know, are you an O type? Maybe you should call my dietician. I'm sure he could give you some guidelines over the phone.'
' Maybe you should call my dietician? ' she
'Oh yeah, I'm beating them off with a stick baby, beating them off with a stick,' she joked thinking of her daily ride home in Bob's estate car. The aphrodisiac of fame!
'TV is . . .' she began. TV was what? Not exactly as she'd expected? Much more extreme? Much more low budget? Much less glamorous?
'. . . not quite as easy as it looks,' she decided.
'Damn right!' Connor was delighted to agree. He'd lost count of the number of jumped-up actors who asked him why he did something as 'easy' as The Manor when he could be doing something much more 'serious' instead.
'I can't believe how long the details take. Doing every shot, every bit of voiceover from sixteen different angles. It makes me want to scream. But the hard stuff,' Annie added, 'the transforming shy wallflower into belle of the ball, they expect that in fifteen seconds!'
'Well, baby, you are at the very tough and gritty end of reality TV,' Connor sympathized, 'The cliff face, you could say. Who knows what's going to happen next? You could hang in there and be elevated to the TV hall of presenter/personality fame . . . or you could cut loose and fall away into the sea of failed wannabees, never to be heard of again. Still,' his tone perked up cheerily, 'you've gotta be in it to win it.'
'So it's not a career path, it's a lottery?'
'Exactly.'
'Why did I give up my nice, glamorous, staff-discounted day job?' Annie had to ask. 'Please remind me.'
'Because like the rest of us glory-hunters, you wanted your shot at the big one.'
Annie considered the day she'd had today and the day she faced tomorrow: six hours in a shopping mall trying to transform Cath with £250. And Cath wasn't even sure if she wanted to be transformed!
Even when filming was over, there was still so much work to be done: the debriefings with Finn, then all the additional little camera shots that Bob would insist on. Annie smiling, Annie nodding, Annie shaking her head and looking troubled. 'We might need these shots in the edit,' he'd explained. 'It's always good to have plenty of spare bits and pieces.'
'Connor, if this is what it's like making cheap TV, what the hell is it like to make films?' she wondered.
'Oh the agony,' Connor agreed, 'and yet the ecstasy!'
'Have you heard about that big thing you were up for?' Annie asked.
'Which one?' Connor said, but more anxiously than boastfully. 'I'm up for about eight, but I'll probably be lucky if even one of them is made. I think that's the strike rate for films in development right now. Only one in ten ever sees the light of day.'
'Are you worried?' she asked with some concern.
'Not yet,' he told her. 'I can always fall back on the other great LA industry.'
'Drugs?!'
'No, porn. No-one ever tells you this, but LA is only 15 per cent movies and then 85 per cent porn. That's why everyone's so buff. To make sure they can play the part of Miguel the devastatingly attractive pizza delivery boy, if the rent's overdue.'
'You worry me,' Annie told him. 'You can come back to London, you know. There's a new series of The Manor , isn't there? And what about the West End?'
'Yes . . . but coming back with my tail between my legs isn't really what I'd planned to do.'
Me neither. Annie couldn't help thinking; once again she was determined that she wouldn't be going back to The Store.
'However you come back, Connor, you'll be welcomed with open arms, by all of us,' she reassured him.
'You are a very lovely woman.'
'I know. How are your food intolerances?' She tried to sound as if she meant this, but it didn't come out right.
'Take that smirk off your face,' Connor commanded. 'Ever since I stopped eating grains, I am struggling to keep the weight on.'
'Maybe I should try it . . .'
'I don't know, are you an O type? Maybe you should call my dietician. I'm sure he could give you some guidelines over the phone.'
' Maybe you should call my dietician? ' she
Similar Books
