Page 12 of The Producer: Aaron

“We take a break, then repeat the scene. Dakota, go fix your makeup, then come back here. It was fine, but you must push yourself a little more with your legs to accentuate the jump and open your arms wider. You have to look like an angel flying into that building,” he continues as he approaches with a smile.

“Reset!” his assistant shouts, and everyone goes back into action to set up the scene for the next take.

I can barely nod to him, sweat runs from my forehead, and my breath chokes in my throat. I’ve always wanted to do my own stunts on set, at least those not dangerous enough to require professionals. Still, running with heels, squeezed inside a pair of leather pants, with a heavy tunic fastened at the waist by a leather belt, is not the easiest thing to do, especially inside a building that today has reached hellish temperatures.

“You were good.” Roland smiles. He is the assistant who helps me get in and out of the safety harnesses they put on me to jump from one fake building to another twenty feet high.

“Thank you. I must improve the jump, though, or I’ll have to repeat this scene endlessly, and I don’t know if I can do it. These boots are killing me.” I try to smile at him, but after eight hours inside this costume, trying to run, breathe, and act without looking like a cat hit by a car, I think it came out more like agrimace.

“You’ll see that the next one will be fine,” he reassures me as he accompanies me off the set and to the trailer where Sarah will have to do the miracle of making me presentable again. “Listen, I was wondering… would you like to get a drink with me tonight? There is a new place where you can build your own cocktail. They told me it’s fun,” he continues hesitantly.

Roland is a guy that the studio has assigned me for a few months to help me manage the equipment used during stunts. He’s about my age, cute, and has sweet green eyes, but, in all honesty, I see him more as a brother than a possible guy to date. We talk mainly about work, and we exchange a few jokes. He helps me stitch up the cuts I have on my feet after hours in these boots on the set. I could never date someone who saw and smelled my feet after twelve hours inside this leather trap.

“Thank you for asking, but tomorrow morning I must be here again at six, and I need to rest.” I decline the invitation with a bit of embarrassment since it is the umpteenth time that I’ve said no. I should be clear and tell him that I only see him as a friend, but I’m afraid the working relationship will become unbearable, and I don’t want to look like the diva who requires the change of the assistant on the set. Although the situation is getting harder and harder to ignore.

“Of course, of course, I understand. I don’t want to prevent you from sleeping,” he stammers hastily as, step by step, he walks away and disappears among the production trailers.

“Roland still hitting on you?” Serena’s mocking voice makes me turn around.

“What are you doing here?”

“I dropped your name at the entrance, and the doors opened magically.” Her mischievous smile annoys me.

I don’t like it when she uses my name to get into places she shouldn’t be. I work here while she spends her day eating for free from the trucks of the different studios and fucking extras in the hidden corners of the parking lots. I open the door of the makeup trailer, and when Sarah notices Serena climbing in behind me, her smile dies on her lips. She can’t stay in here. If she gets hurt or breaks something, the insurance doesn’t pay because she is not one of the employees, and we’ll all end up neck-deep in trouble. But the makeup artist will never make a scene by kicking her out because she fears I may complain to the studio and get her fired.

“You know you shouldn’t be in here, don’t you? If they catch you, you’ll get all of us in trouble.” I try to make Serena understand that she should leave the set, but the stern expression on her face kills the words in my throat.

“If you hadn’t stolen my starring role, I would have let you do whatever you want on this set. I probably would have found you a job as a co-star or something,” she reminds me harshly, awakening my guilt.

Serena and I met when we were both in the queue for the auditions forHunters of Shadowsfor Sabry’s role, the protagonist. We spent hours under the scorching Los Angeles sun waiting for our turn. She never had a callback, while I, audition after audition, got the part. She has never resented me. In fact, she has become my friend, but I can’t help but feel guilty that I am succeeding while she continues to audition but never gets a part.

I look at the mirror and see Sarah imperceptibly roll her eyes. “You know I tried to ask, but the casting was closed,” I admit as I open the zippers on my boots and pull out my swollen feet.

I notice right away the bloodstain on the heel and toe of oneof my socks. The patches I wore this morning didn’t stop the wounds from reopening after a week of stunts, almost making me cry. From the corner of my eye, I notice Sarah open a small fridge behind her and pull out an ice pack which she gives to me.

“Thank you.” I smile at her and place the cold wrap on my battered feet, breathing a sigh of relief when the pain begins to subside.

“Anyway…” The smile returns to Serena’s lips, and I am glad she has dropped a topic that always puts me in a bad mood. “I went to your house and found it empty. Where did you end up? You change houses, and you don’t tell me anything?” she asks with a bit of irritation in her voice.

The sense of guilt returns, overwhelming my chest. It’s been fifteen days since I moved in with Aaron, and although we chat daily, I never told her anything. I don’t know why I didn’t, maybe because I was afraid she would invite herself to his home and ask him for a job, embarrassing me in front of him.

It is strange the relationship I have with my boss. Although he intimidates me, most of the time, I tell him what I think without filters. After that first conversation, where nervousness led me to babble about what was going through my head without thinking, I noticed that he seemed almost relieved by my frankness. I don’t believe many people tell him to his face what they think, and the fact that he let me speak freely without scolding me or, worse, firing me led me to relax so much that sometimes I forget he is the big boss. Not that I’ve seen him much during these last few weeks, as we’re both busy with work.

“I had to change accommodation,” I vaguely reply although I know she will not give up until I confess the truth.

“Really? Where do you live?” The smile that appears on her face is halfway between curious and impatient.

“On the hills, but it’s something temporary. In six months, I’ll be back in my old apartment. There was a problem with the…pipes.” I’m an actress, I literally live repeating fake stories other people write, yet I can’t lie even if it was the only way to save my life. I’m hopeless.

I play with my belt buckle, wishing I could be swallowed up at this very moment. Sarah behind me is making a titanic effort not to interfere in the conversation. Usually, when it’s me and her alone, we spend time in a friendly conversation that we’ve had for over three years. The tension that you breathe when Serena is here with us is something that I have never been able to mitigate.

“Really? A problem with the pipes leads you to ask Aaron Steel for hospitality?” she asks with a smile on her face that I can’t read.

My heart hammers in my chest, and when I cross Sarah’s eyes through the mirror, I find them as big as saucers. Apart from Tracy and the PR office, no one knows about this accommodation, and I prefer it to remain so, to avoid uncomfortable rumors about why I ended up under the same roof as the big boss.

“How do you know?” I blurt out.

“Because I followed you off the set when I found your house empty. Imagine my surprise when my best friend didn’t tell me she lived in the boss’s house.” There’s a pain in her eyes, and I wonder if it was the right choice to keep it hidden from her.

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