Page 30 of 7 Miles High
Bliss lights up. “Really? Are you a broker?”
“Yes. I have my own firm.”
“You and my wife will have lots to talk about.”
Then his eyes travel behind where we stand.
“Oh good. Here comes Finn.”
All conversation stops because I feel Jenna’s grasp on my pants leg. Except for the barely heard squeal that only dogs can hear, she’s squeezing her reaction. Or maybe she’s steeling herself in case she faints.
Jenna’s dreams have come to life, as a six foot vision saunters right up beside her and smiles. He’s everything the fans have hoped for. In reality he looks as good as in pictures. Better. I think I see sweat appearing on Jenna’s upper lip.
“Hi, I’m Finn,” he says, locking eyes with my friend.
Obviously he’s used to the ogling that comes with celebrity. Every day of this man’s life I bet he feels the stares of the masses. He’s identified the most flummoxed of the group. It’s kind of him to respond this way. But Jenna hasn’t responded other than the comatose stare. I give her a nudge.
“Oh! Hi. Hello.” And then she giggles and a snort gets thrown in.
I hear the chuckles of some at the table.
“I’m a huge fan!” She says it a little too loud and makes a move to get her cell from a back pocket. Then she thinks better of it.
But Finn reads the scene. “Would you like a selfie?”
I think there are actual tears in her eyes as she whips out her phone.
“Yes!”
He puts an arm around her waist and pulls her to his side. As she holds up the cell he poses and offers that megawatt smile he’s famous for. Jenna takes the picture.
“Let’s do another one, just in case,” Finn says.
This will be one for her baby book.Today little Jenna met her idol and almost peed her pants!
* * *
It takes so long to set up a scene, a stunt, the lighting, and cameras. It’s a whole lot of hurry up and wait, which lets me see this business in a new light. It drives home the idea the end product is a community effort. What looks like a simple scene on screen is anything but in practice. I feel a newfound respect for the art and its many contributors.
I just heard the cameraman say we’re losing light. It’s getting cloudy. Everyone is scrambling to do their jobs as they set up for Parker’s high fall. He comes in and out of view at the top of the building. Looking over the edge, he calculates where he will land, atop the huge airbag. A group of stunt people are assisting him, but I’m not sure how. He had his pads on when he got up there.
It’s a bit windy, but he told me not to worry about it. His calmness is impressive. It reminds me of our flight to Cancun and his ability to stay cool in the face of a perceived threat. One difference between that day and today, is the look on his face. He was completely focused when he went into the building. As if there was no other person around him. No cameras or cables. It was all him inside his mind.
Jenna and I are positioned where he put us, across from the four-story building, behind the director and cameraman, standing against the entry to an abandoned shop. Parker told us the location scout picked this spot because it had all the requirements for a successful shoot. A four-story empty building with a flat roof, little or no nearby businesses so there wouldn’t be lookie-loos, and an easy spot to get permits to shut down the street.
“Are you close, Parker?” Steven says, looking up.
“Ready,” is the answer over the walkie talkie.
Looking up, I see him step up on the edge. Everyone else backs away, and disappears from view. Shit. My stomach is twisting. Jenna takes my hand.
“Quiet!” Steven calls. “Rolling cameras!”
The assistant director steps in front of the camera with the clapboard and announces the take. “Mark’s Monday. Scene twelve. Take One. Mark camera.”
“And…ACTION!” Steven says.
There’s only a beat of a hesitation before I watch Parker fall over forty feet with absolutely no cables or ropes. I don’t have to hear the horror stories to know men have died doing this job. Airbags deflate sometimes. But it’s a thing of beauty as he turns himself over and lands on his back, disappearing into the folds of the bag.
“CUT!”
The stunt people appear again at the edges of the building and look at the landing zone. Cheers and whistles. One arm raises with a thumbs up. I exhale.
