my diamonds?”
“Excuse me,” Kevin said. He pointed at the director. “I’ll talk to Betsy. We’ll take care of this right now.”
“Yes. I will talk to her, too,” Antonio said.
“There’s no need, Tonio.”
“I will like to talk to her.”
Akmanian waved his hand, taking in all those standing around the room. “Take as many people as you want. They can all talk to her. Whatever. I got paid in advance. My time is yours.” He looked at the floor around his chair. “Where is my latte?”
A production assistant leaned forward and put the cup into his hand.
Cookie said, “Well, if you’re all goin’ off, Ah’m gonna get me a doughnut.”
Five minutes passed and then ten, but none of the combatants returned. The crew was standing around waiting.
“Is the number two set ready to go?” the director asked.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Mrs. Fletcher?” Dave Fitzpatrick said. “Would you like to see your set now?”
“Ooh, can I see it, too?” Frank said.
“Of course,” I replied.
Grady, Frank, and I followed Dave back the way we’d come and down a different corridor with offices on both sides. We could hear a loud argument going on in one of them. As we approached, I recognized the voices of Howerstein and Betsy.
“Where’s the money, Betsy? I had to lay out a fortune for Akmanian. And I got a crew to pay.”
“Stuff it, Daniel. You get paid when the client pays us. Not before.”
“If I find out you’re cheating me . . .”
“What’ll you do? Leave? You’re easily replaced. There are dozens of production companies that would jump at the chance to work with Mindbenders, even if they never got paid.”
“Not this one!”
“I don’t have time for this.” Betsy stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind her. An ironic expression bloomed on her face when she saw us. “There’s always oodles of drama on a production,” she said, forcing a smile. She strode down the hall in the direction we’d come from.
Frank hugged Grady’s side as we continued down the hall to a book-lined library at the end. “She sure yells a lot,” I heard him whisper to his father as we entered the room.
“Grown-ups don’t always behave like grown-ups should,” Grady replied. “Let’s forget about her and see what Aunt Jessica’s set is like.”
A large walnut table that I assumed usually occupied the center of the room had been pushed to one end, and its chairs wheeled in a bunch next to it. In their place, a desk, surrounded by light stands, had been set up in front of a bookcase. I noticed a row of my books on one of the shelves. On the desk, a laptop computer sat on a blotter framed in brown leather. Lined up neatly at its side were a brass pen and pencil set and a stack of lined paper pads. Three books—a dictionary, a thesaurus, and a book of quotations—stood between a set of marble bookends in the shape of lions’ heads. Warm light from a desk lamp shone down on a small bowl of flowers. It looked like a very pleasant place in which to write.
“This looks cool, Aunt Jessica,” Frank said. “When did you get a new desk?”
“It’s not mine, Frank. It’s just the suggestion of my working space,” I explained. “It doesn’t have to look exactly like my desk at home, but we’ll pretend that it does for the commercial.”
“Is that allowed?” he asked.
“I think for this purpose, it’s allowed. But you should keep in mind that a lot of things you see in commercials on television may not be portrayed the way they actually are in real life.”
“Oh.”
“Do you like it, Mrs. Fletcher?” Dave asked.
“It’s lovely,” I said.
He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his watch. “Your spot has been moved back to this afternoon. We’re planning to shoot you at the desk, and then do some of your lines in front of a green screen we have set up in another room,” Dave said. He looked at Frank. “Do you know what a green screen is?”
Frank shook his
“Excuse me,” Kevin said. He pointed at the director. “I’ll talk to Betsy. We’ll take care of this right now.”
“Yes. I will talk to her, too,” Antonio said.
“There’s no need, Tonio.”
“I will like to talk to her.”
Akmanian waved his hand, taking in all those standing around the room. “Take as many people as you want. They can all talk to her. Whatever. I got paid in advance. My time is yours.” He looked at the floor around his chair. “Where is my latte?”
A production assistant leaned forward and put the cup into his hand.
Cookie said, “Well, if you’re all goin’ off, Ah’m gonna get me a doughnut.”
Five minutes passed and then ten, but none of the combatants returned. The crew was standing around waiting.
“Is the number two set ready to go?” the director asked.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Mrs. Fletcher?” Dave Fitzpatrick said. “Would you like to see your set now?”
“Ooh, can I see it, too?” Frank said.
“Of course,” I replied.
Grady, Frank, and I followed Dave back the way we’d come and down a different corridor with offices on both sides. We could hear a loud argument going on in one of them. As we approached, I recognized the voices of Howerstein and Betsy.
“Where’s the money, Betsy? I had to lay out a fortune for Akmanian. And I got a crew to pay.”
“Stuff it, Daniel. You get paid when the client pays us. Not before.”
“If I find out you’re cheating me . . .”
“What’ll you do? Leave? You’re easily replaced. There are dozens of production companies that would jump at the chance to work with Mindbenders, even if they never got paid.”
“Not this one!”
“I don’t have time for this.” Betsy stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind her. An ironic expression bloomed on her face when she saw us. “There’s always oodles of drama on a production,” she said, forcing a smile. She strode down the hall in the direction we’d come from.
Frank hugged Grady’s side as we continued down the hall to a book-lined library at the end. “She sure yells a lot,” I heard him whisper to his father as we entered the room.
“Grown-ups don’t always behave like grown-ups should,” Grady replied. “Let’s forget about her and see what Aunt Jessica’s set is like.”
A large walnut table that I assumed usually occupied the center of the room had been pushed to one end, and its chairs wheeled in a bunch next to it. In their place, a desk, surrounded by light stands, had been set up in front of a bookcase. I noticed a row of my books on one of the shelves. On the desk, a laptop computer sat on a blotter framed in brown leather. Lined up neatly at its side were a brass pen and pencil set and a stack of lined paper pads. Three books—a dictionary, a thesaurus, and a book of quotations—stood between a set of marble bookends in the shape of lions’ heads. Warm light from a desk lamp shone down on a small bowl of flowers. It looked like a very pleasant place in which to write.
“This looks cool, Aunt Jessica,” Frank said. “When did you get a new desk?”
“It’s not mine, Frank. It’s just the suggestion of my working space,” I explained. “It doesn’t have to look exactly like my desk at home, but we’ll pretend that it does for the commercial.”
“Is that allowed?” he asked.
“I think for this purpose, it’s allowed. But you should keep in mind that a lot of things you see in commercials on television may not be portrayed the way they actually are in real life.”
“Oh.”
“Do you like it, Mrs. Fletcher?” Dave asked.
“It’s lovely,” I said.
He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his watch. “Your spot has been moved back to this afternoon. We’re planning to shoot you at the desk, and then do some of your lines in front of a green screen we have set up in another room,” Dave said. He looked at Frank. “Do you know what a green screen is?”
Frank shook his
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