Page 90 of Act Like You Don't Care
“No, just during filming.” He took my hand and pressed it against his belly, where the solid mass of his fifteen-week womb made an undeniable bump under his skin. “Liquid meals keep me looking a little slimmer, buys us a bit more time.”
This was the first time I’d touched more than a hand or a shoulder of his since the stalker was caught. I’d known the baby was real, but I’d never until today experienced the physical proof of it. I stared down at my hand and at the slight curve it made around the swell of the baby growing beneath it. “Wow, it’s really in there.”
“Yeah,” Tam said in a meditative tone. I glanced up at him, wondering if he was starting to regret this after all, but he shook his head at me. “I feel a little sad sometimes that I can’t afford to sit around and just enjoy this, you know? I thought I felt something this morning, but the internet says we’re a couple of weeks away yet. It was probably gas.” He wrinkled his nose at me and I laughed and let my hand fall reluctantly away from his body.
Someone shouted from the other side of the room. Tam jumped and looked over his shoulder, then sucked down the rest of his smoothie. “I’ve gotta go. Since the news is out anyway, wanna go shopping for baby furniture on Sunday?” He was already drifting in the direction of the cameras.
“I’d love to.”
He grinned and saluted me with the empty smoothie cup. Will came over, hand out to take the garbage. Tam leaned over to whisper in his ear. I saw Will stiffen and glance in my direction, then he nodded and scurried off while Tam jogged toward the waiting director and I was forgotten again in the crowd.
Tam
Four hours later, we started our last shot of the night. I couldn’t wait to be done—I was starving and Josephina had promised me black pepper steak and roasted beans once I made it home. This, I guessed, was the start of the whole ‘eating everything in sight’ part of the pregnancy. I’d hoped it would hold off longer, but it was the baby driving this bus. And, according to the doctor today, a good sign that he was growing well and making demands on me.
The second assistant cameraman stood on top of my first mark, clacked the sticks of the clapperboard together, and shouted, “Wirechild, Scene Seven, Take One.”
I took a breath and the minute the director shouted, “Action!” I was off, racing for my mark. I skidded to a stop on it, spun in place, then bolted off up a rickety-looking ramp-like structure to my left. Once the special effects guys were done with this scene, it would look like I was running through a world of virtual reality. Which I supposed I was.
“Cut!” the director yelled when I’d reached the end of the structure. “Great, let’s reset.” He crossed the set and met me at the bottom of the ramp as I came down off it. “That was good, but I’d like to try it with you looking a little more twitchy. Yes, you’re the best virtual thief in the world, but this is really fucked up. I want the audience to think that there could be a threat popping out at you from anywhere.”
“Got it,” I said and went back to my starting point.
Make-up hustled over to touch up my face and check my hair. As soon as she was done, I reset the bright blue-and-black leather jacket and readied myself for launch.
“Ready?” the second AC shouted, then marked the start of the scene with, “Wirechild, Scene Seven, Take Two.”
“Action!”
Run, stop, spin. Halfway through, I flinched and shot a hard look in the direction I’d picked to flinch from, then continued to spin, but a little slower this time, like I was trying to find a threat I could feel but couldn’t see. In the rehearsal, we’d done this spin for a count of ten before I would run up the ramp. I was a little off, pointing in not quite the right direction by the time I’d silently chantedteninside my head, but I made it work.
I hit the ramp at a dead run, storming up the incline, jumping from mark to mark until I was almost at the top.
Then, disaster happened.
I missed the top mark by about four inches. Not enough to matter for the film because this was going to be edited to flow into footage from the stunt double, but I put my foot on something. A bolt or a wingnut or something that wasn’t supposed to be messed with. And mess with it I did. The section of the ramp collapsed underneath me and the next thing I knew I was lying tangled in the fallen boards, half propped up against the pipes they’d used to build the framework for the structure.
“Tam!” someone yelled and then I was surrounded by people and someone was yelling for the set medic and I really didn’t have a clue what was going on.
“Call an ambulance,” a vaguely familiar voice said, then a face appeared in front of me, blocking my view of everything else. “Tam, can you understand me?”
I blinked at him, confused.
“Shit, he’s concussed,” the face muttered.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled. What was I supposed to be doing? I was here for something, wasn’t I? Oh, the movie. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that there’d been an accident of some sort. “I’m sorry, give me a minute and we can reshoot.”
“Jeez, Margaret wasn’t kidding when she said the kid was tough as nails. You stay down, you hear? You just took a fall and you’re pretty banged up. Shooting can wait.”
No, it couldn’t. Panic welled up in me. “No, seriously, I’m fine.” I started to push myself to my feet, but the director—that was who the face was!—put a hand on my chest and pushed me down.
“Stay there until the medic has seen you.” He shouted across the room. “Where’s that damn medic?”
“I’m fine. Give me a few minutes while we reset and we can run the scene again,” I practically begged. My coordination was coming back. If I could just have a glass of water and someplace to sit until my heart stopped pounding…
The medic crouched down beside me. “Hey, can you tell me your name?” His hands were warm as they began probing my skull, then moved down to my neck and my upper back.
I gave him a disdainful look. “You don’t recognize me?”
