Page 4 of Jace 4Ever
“Ugh. God, no. Well, I mean, I liked learning how to set up a shot and all the technical stuff, but…working with all those future Spielbergs and Lucases and Coppolas? Not so much. They all thought their capstones were going to be a THX1138, and they’d have their choice of projects.”
“Did you have any THXes?”
“One.” Jace held up a single finger. “Just one. And it was the one where the senior asked all the right people to help him put it together. Dennis di Bartolo, and he’s working on his first film—”
“He’s done casting for it.” I nodded. “The locations were interesting, and I did read the script, but it was going to interfere with another film I’m committed to. Di Bartolo was so understanding when I had to turn down the audition. You worked onMillions of Seedswith him?”
Sitting up a little straighter, he nodded. “I did.”
“That was so good.”
“Went up for a short film Oscar. Lost to some piece of shit from someone emulating a certain tree-named director.”
“Yeah, I do remember that. That was a shame. The tree emulation was about as stimulating as a tree. Not that I have anything against trees, mind you…”
“They’re good for dogs to pee on,” Jace said.
“I wish someone would pee on that tree.”
“Might like it.” He was shocked by his own words and we started laughing, hard.
“So, I should consider di Bartolo when he approaches me again for something else?” I asked.
“Oh, God, yes. He’s humble and brilliant. I know he wants me back when he gets to a closer location.” Jace seemed to relax a bit.
“Why closer?”
“Travel is too much for me.” He shrugged, but I could tell by the tone of his voice it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about at that moment.
“If you ever need a ride, I’m happy to loan you the jet.”
His glass paused halfway to his mouth, and he blinked his whiskey eyes at me a few times. Finally, he took a sip of the drink. Putting it back down, he cocked his head. “Did you just offer me use of your private jet?”
“Um…yes?”
“You don’t know me.”
“I do, we’re sitting here having a drink and our friends are downstairs.” I laid my hand on his. “Seriously. I like to dote on friends. If my plane can get you to a set, please, just ask to borrow it.”
He looked at our stacked hands. “I’m just a key grip.”
I snorted. “You have a degree in film, and I know you’re not a dummy. Key grips are called key for a reason. If it weren’t for you, all of us actors would look like skeletons and zombies, without the help of makeup.”
The chuckle was adorable. “Some of them need more than just lights and makeup, too.”
Leaning in, I looked around as if checking to see if there were people listening in. “Ooh, do tell.”
“Oh, you have to know Gary Outwater’s coke habit.” He rolled his eyes. “It makes him look like the living dead. And he’s so pale I had to use the warmest bulbs on the market, special ordered. The producer was furious at the cost. Totally incensed and wouldn’t okay them. Then the director and I showed him a polished scene with regular lighting. He didn’t say a thing, just grabbed the requisition and signed it.”
“Is Gary that bad now?”
Nodding solemnly, he grimaced. “I kind of feel bad. The way that man does lines, you’d think he was from the seventies comedy circuit.”
“He was so good-looking and so talented when he started in this.” Gary had started his rise at the same time I did. His focus, unfortunately, was fame and not his art. “I worry about him all the time.”
The chuckle again. “It’s so strange to just talk about all these celebrities like I know them personally. And with you, who actually does.”
“Got any other gossip?” I cocked my head and leaned on my fist.
