Page 14 of Declan
I walked toward the counter, not looking at any of the cameras and seeming as natural as possible. Freckles stood several feet down from me, waiting on his coffee order. I gave him a disinterested glance, forcing myself not to linger too long on his big, gray eyes.
At that point, it was second-nature for me to be in front of the camera. It was when I was most comfortable. I loved being in character, loved being someone else for a while—even if said someone was a shallow, cardboard cutout of a man like this Scott guy. Not sure what that said about me.
“What can I get for you?” the barista asked.
“Coffee to go,” I answered, tapping a finger on the countertop to emphasize my character’s hurry.
“Two caramel lattes?” the other barista called out.
That was Freckles’ cue. He was supposed to take the coffees and walk to his designated booth. No spoken lines.
So, how in the hell did he manage to screw it up?
“Thank you,” Freckles said as he grabbed the coffees.
“Cut,” Tim, the director, said.
Freckles blinked and looked around. “Did I do something wrong?” Then, he gaped. “Ah, crap. I wasn’t supposed to talk, was I?”
“It’s okay,” Cathy said. “We never get it right on the first try. Let’s go again.”
One more take turned into another. On the second try, Freckles stumbled when he turned to walk to the booth. On the third, he sneezed.
Poor guy.
I just knew he was about to get fired. Extras weren’t paid much, usually only sixty-five bucks a day, if that. And they were easily replaced. The last thing a director needed while filming was an extra that couldn’t get their shit together.
On the fourth take, the scene began as usual. My order was taken, and I moved down the counter so the person behind me could step up.
Freckles grabbed the two lattes and right when he turned, he slammed into me, spilling the coffees all over the front of my suit.
“Oh my god!” He looked absolutely terrified. “I’m so sorry, sir!”
Sir?
Freckles sat the messy cups down and grabbed some napkins from the dispenser before wiping the front of my suit jacket and shirt.
It occurred to me that Tim hadn’t called “cut” yet. So, I went with it. Adlibbing wasn’t uncommon.
“It’s fine,” I said with an exasperated sigh. Thank god the coffee wasn’t actually hot. It was more for show than anything. “Just watch where you’re going next time. This suit wasn’t cheap, kid.”
I grumbled to myself as the barista handed over my coffee.
“Cut,” Tim called.
“I’m so sorry,” Freckles said as his chin trembled. He looked from me and to the members of the crew. “I’m—”
“That was brilliant!” Tim exclaimed before jumping from his chair and approaching us. He was kind of the eccentric sort, which was funny considering he was directing a sappy romantic comedy. He had frizzy black hair and thick-framed glasses. “I’ve been thinking that this scene needed a little…something extra, ya know? Scott gets his coffee and is about to leave when he sees Kelly sitting by the window. But it just felt…off.”
Tim scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “If Scott was in such a hurry, trying to get to his meeting that morning, why would he stop to look at the other customers, especially when the exit is on the other side of them? Butthisis perfect! He gets coffee spilled on him, which makes him turn.” Tim grabbed my shoulders and did said turning. “And it puts our beautiful Kelly right into his line of sight.”
Well, I’ll be damned.
It certainly added a little flare to the scene.
“You, what’s your name?” Tim asked Freckles.
“K-Kyler,” he answered, looking between me and Tim. I’d be confused, too, if I was him. A mistake like that would’ve normally had him tossed off the set. I called him akidin my head, but he was far from it. Not with those toned muscles, tall frame, and a neck that made me want to nibble it. “I can pay for any damages.”
