Page 49 of The Fake Script
I shrug. “A little, I guess. But honestly, you kind of separate yourself from the character during those scenes.”
“Oh, that’s . . . interesting.” She swallows hard.
“Keep in mind, it’s not Auston kissing Madison. It’s very much Diego kissing Sarah.”
“Still, I don’t think I couldkiss someone I don’t love,” she says. “Not that I love anyone—or want to, for that matter. But I don’t know. It’d be weird.”
All the alarms in my head go off as I recall our first kiss. Does that mean that she loved me back then? Or maybe this is a new development? I want to ask, but I know she’s not ready for that conversation. So instead, I pretend that my insides aren’t twisted by her words as I breathe a lighthearted chuckle. “I get it. I’ve been doing this for so long, I don’t always register how weird it is.”
“Didn’t your previous girlfriends have a problem with you kissing other girls?” she asks.
“I’ve never been in a serious relationship, so I never had that issue,” I say, suddenly wondering whether Emma would be okay with my on-screen kisses if we were together. It’s my job, after all. But the thing is, if she asked me to, I’d give it up in a heartbeat.
She looks down at her coffee. “Oh, I see.”
“My work takes a lot of my time,” I add, feeling the urge to justify myself. “I think staying single is a smart move.”
“Gotcha.” She takes a sip of her coffee, and an awkward silence settles in.
“Right.” I clasp my hands. “Let’s get to work.”
She nods, ruffling her bangs. “Yep. That’s what we’re here for.”
As we stand there in my tent, I can’t help but feel how nice it is to have her here. And I wonder how I’ll ever shoot a single scene without Emma a few feet away from me.
20
The Closed-Door Advocate
Emma
The beach is packed, and everyone is ready to shoot. The crew members are at their posts, Clarence is perched on the director’s chair, and Auston and Madison are waiting on the opposite side of the beach, about to start walking down the street that leads to the sand.
“Camera rolling,” someone says, followed by the usual, “Sound is on.”
The female crew member I recall from before comes out with the slate. “Scene Seventeen. Take One.”
“Action,” Clarence calls out, at which time Madison and Auston start their stroll down to the beach, hand in hand. Auston is holding a bottle of champagne, and they take turns drinking from it. They’re speaking in low murmurs when their steps slow, then pause. Auston drops the bottle on the sand and frames Madison’s face between his large hands. I’m looking at it through the large camera screen. I’d never noticed Auston’s hands were so hot. Why does everything about him have to be sexy? I need to take a closer look later. He caresses her cheek, then brushes his thumb over her lips, making her giggle. They look into each other’s eyes, and—
“Cut!”
“Who the heck said that?” Clarence thunders, standing up.
Everyone is looking at me, and that’s when I realize that I did. I’m the one who spoke.
Madison and Auston are staring at me from afar, frowning. And judging from Clarence’s bulging neck vein and red-faced scowl, he’s pissed. Really pissed.
“Uh, sorry,” I say, raising a hand. “It’s just, in the book, they don’t kiss until they’re sitting on the sand.”
“We changed that,” Clarence says, a hand on his hip. “What difference does it make? Now, everyone, back in position.”
Auston and Madison start walking down the street again, and just when he’s about to kiss her, a surge of anger floods my body, and I once again yell, “Cut.”
“Emma!” Clarence shouts, this time not even bothering to ask who interrupted. “What is it now? You can’t just call ‘cut.’ Only the director can.”
“Sorry, but in the book, they still have their shoes on at that point. They only take them off once they reach the sand. Why would they be off already? It makes no sense. They’re coming from the asphalt.”
He lets out a long sigh. “Maybe they removed them in the car. Now, for the last time, stop interrupting the shoot, or I will ask you to leave.”