Box Office Poison (Linnet Ellery) by Phillipa Bornikova Page A

will.”
    Boucher waved a hand off to the side. “The craft table’s over on the left. Help yourself to anything.”
    The girl friday was suddenly back at Boucher’s elbow. “Would you like something, Tom?”
    “Yeah, an apple juice.”
    Debbie gestured. “Follow me, I’ll take you over.”
    Jeff held back. “I’ll catch up with you. Got something to discuss with Tom.”
    I nearly tripped again because in addition to the tangle of big cables there was a metal track, and a tall metal column topped by a camera and mounted on wheels resting on the track. The contraption looked like an anorexic, cyclopian robot.
    Then we were off the set, behind the flats, and up against the wall of the soundstage. There was a long table loaded down with bowls of apples, bananas, and oranges. Giant jars of peanut butter and jelly, loaves of bread. A bowl of M&M’s. Some bags of chips. There was a coffee maker and powdered creamer and artificial sweeteners.
    My cell phone chirped. Debbie whirled at the sound emerging from my purse. “You need to turn that off. The mikes are incredibly sensitive, and I don’t want you forgetting before we start shooting.”
    “Sorry, sorry,” I mumbled. I pulled out my phone and turned it off.
    We reached the food-laden table just as a young man in a policeman’s uniform furtively grabbed an apple. “Hey!” Debbie said. “Extras aren’t allowed. Stay in your own area.” She did schoolmarm really well. I had probably looked as guilty as the young extra.
    “All we’ve got is bottled water,” he said. “And you won’t let us go over to the commissary.”
    “We’re about to start shooting.”
    “You said that three hours ago.” The young man’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, propelled by both nerves and outrage.
    “Yeah, well, you’re a fucking extra and I can replace you in three minutes flat, so if you want to keep your job, scat!”
    He scooted away, but I noticed he kept the apple.
    “Locusts,” Debbie muttered.
    “Don’t you feed them?”
    “Only when we have to,” she said. “If we hit Golden Time.”
    “Which is?” I asked.
    “Over sixteen hours.” She glanced at her watch. “And the way we’re going, that may happen. Jondin needs to get her skinny Álfar ass over here. Look, I need to head over to her trailer and see what’s up. You can look after yourself?”
    I nodded. “Sure. Of course. Don’t worry about me. I don’t want to be a bother.” I had been talking to air after the third word.
    A young woman knelt on the floor in a corner and snapped open a case. As she lifted the lid I spotted the red cross indicating it was a first-aid kit. I walked over, and she looked up at me with a smile and blew a fringe of curly black bangs out of her eyes. “Hi. Need something?”
    “Just curious. I’ve never been on a movie set before. I didn’t know they had medics.”
    “Yep. Required by law.” She gave me that bright grin again. “Good for EMTs like me, and we’re kept busy, too.”
    “That’s sort of scary.”
    “It’s mostly just small stuff. Some grip takes a header off a scaffold. Somebody sprains an ankle tripping on a cable. Today, because they’re messing around with explosives, I double-check my supplies. Everything usually works great, but once in a while somebody gets burned. And sometimes you can get a bad one. I was on a the set for a TV show once, and the guest star had a heart attack.” She patted the case. “But I’m ready for almost anything. I even have a separate case for Jondin.”
    “Why’s that?” I asked.
    “Álfar physiology is really different from ours. A human-to-Álfar blood transfusion would kill the Álfar—as we discovered the hard way back in the day. That’s why all the Álfar actors donate blood. When you’ve got an Álfar in the cast we send down to Cedars, and they send over a few pints. I’ve got a little fridge where I keep it.” She pointed and I saw the small mini-fridge humming away in a