differences and were working smoothly as a unit, even the combative Geoff Gross.
“Probably he’s happy to have me out of the Slayer suit,” Chet said quietly.
“What about you?” Joe asked. “Still missing the hot lights?”
Chet shook his head. “Nah. Let Peck Wilson brawl with Gross next time. My bruises haven’t healed yet.”
During a break in shooting, Peck Wilson came over to congratulate Chet for his work in the show. “You really helped out,” Wilson said. “And you don’t look half-bad as the Slayer from Sirius. You might consider doing some stunt work when you get out of school.”
Chet grinned. “Maybe you’ll need an apprentice Slayer by then,” he said.
Wilson laughed. “Let’s hope the show lasts that long.”
“We’re just glad to have you back in action,” Frank said. “The fire could have killed you.”
“That’s what they tell me,” Wilson replied. “I don’t remember much of what happened, to tell you the truth. I went over the hill and then—whammo!—Next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital.”
“Did you slip and fall, or what?” Joe asked.
“I guess I must have,” Wilson said. “I still have a big bump on the back of my head. I must have cracked my skull against a rock.”
“Yeah, probably,” Joe said, but the look he gave Frank said that he didn’t believe it.
After Wilson went back to work, Frank said, “Are you thinking that he was probably hit from behind?”
“Yeah, just like Pekar—by the kung fu alien,” Joe said.
“Why, though?” Chet asked.
“If we knew that, we’d have this mystery solved,” Frank said.
The morning flew by with the crew shooting pages almost as quickly as the rewrites could be printed from Sandy’s computer. When Jerri Bell and Claudia Rajiv finished their morning scenes, they invited Chet, Frank, and Joe to join them for lunch while Iola continued working.
“I don’t see how we can make up for lost timewithout shooting this weekend,” Claudia said. “And even then, getting back to the park will be tricky.”
“Maybe Sandy will rewrite those scenes,” Iola suggested.
“Poor Sandy,” Claudia said. “She’s working herself to death.”
“And the rest of us, too,” Jerri said. She sighed and ran a hand through her blond hair. “I guess I’d better cancel my plans for Saturday and Sunday.”
“The price of fame,” Frank said.
Jerri smiled and laughed. “Listen to me!” she said. “The show’s in trouble and I’m worried about a weekend getaway.”
“I’d tell you to get a life, but I think that may be your problem,” Claudia said.
Lunch soon ended, and the women went back to work. Frank, Joe, and Chet lingered for a few moments, finishing their desserts.
“Did you notice that Geoff Gross and Matt Stiller had their eyes on us the whole time Jerri was here?” Frank said.
Joe nodded. “And they left just as soon as Jerri and Claudia did.”
“Well, it’ll be harder for Gross to take a poke at me now that I’m out of the Slayer outfit,” Chet said.
Shooting stretched late into the afternoon, with technicians and actors flying around in a state just short of chaos. Stiller kept busy running errands forthe cast, especially Jerri Bell, and stayed out of the way of the Hardys and Mortons except to toss them an occasional sneer.
“He’s an excellent gofer . . . for a creep,” Iola commented.
“I don’t think Gross is too pleased with him, though,” Joe said. “Look.”
As they watched, Geoff Gross drained the coffee cup in his hand and violently crushed it. He tossed it aside and called, “Stiller! Where’s my coffee?”
Stiller looked annoyed but said, “Coming, Mr. Gross.” He took his tray, piled high with coffee and soft drinks, and ducked behind a flat to cross to Gross’s chair. Webb was working nearby, setting up the next shot. Suddenly he turned and yelled, “Hey! Look out!”
He rushed behind the flat, and a moment later there was a loud popping noise,
“Probably he’s happy to have me out of the Slayer suit,” Chet said quietly.
“What about you?” Joe asked. “Still missing the hot lights?”
Chet shook his head. “Nah. Let Peck Wilson brawl with Gross next time. My bruises haven’t healed yet.”
During a break in shooting, Peck Wilson came over to congratulate Chet for his work in the show. “You really helped out,” Wilson said. “And you don’t look half-bad as the Slayer from Sirius. You might consider doing some stunt work when you get out of school.”
Chet grinned. “Maybe you’ll need an apprentice Slayer by then,” he said.
Wilson laughed. “Let’s hope the show lasts that long.”
“We’re just glad to have you back in action,” Frank said. “The fire could have killed you.”
“That’s what they tell me,” Wilson replied. “I don’t remember much of what happened, to tell you the truth. I went over the hill and then—whammo!—Next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital.”
“Did you slip and fall, or what?” Joe asked.
“I guess I must have,” Wilson said. “I still have a big bump on the back of my head. I must have cracked my skull against a rock.”
“Yeah, probably,” Joe said, but the look he gave Frank said that he didn’t believe it.
After Wilson went back to work, Frank said, “Are you thinking that he was probably hit from behind?”
“Yeah, just like Pekar—by the kung fu alien,” Joe said.
“Why, though?” Chet asked.
“If we knew that, we’d have this mystery solved,” Frank said.
The morning flew by with the crew shooting pages almost as quickly as the rewrites could be printed from Sandy’s computer. When Jerri Bell and Claudia Rajiv finished their morning scenes, they invited Chet, Frank, and Joe to join them for lunch while Iola continued working.
“I don’t see how we can make up for lost timewithout shooting this weekend,” Claudia said. “And even then, getting back to the park will be tricky.”
“Maybe Sandy will rewrite those scenes,” Iola suggested.
“Poor Sandy,” Claudia said. “She’s working herself to death.”
“And the rest of us, too,” Jerri said. She sighed and ran a hand through her blond hair. “I guess I’d better cancel my plans for Saturday and Sunday.”
“The price of fame,” Frank said.
Jerri smiled and laughed. “Listen to me!” she said. “The show’s in trouble and I’m worried about a weekend getaway.”
“I’d tell you to get a life, but I think that may be your problem,” Claudia said.
Lunch soon ended, and the women went back to work. Frank, Joe, and Chet lingered for a few moments, finishing their desserts.
“Did you notice that Geoff Gross and Matt Stiller had their eyes on us the whole time Jerri was here?” Frank said.
Joe nodded. “And they left just as soon as Jerri and Claudia did.”
“Well, it’ll be harder for Gross to take a poke at me now that I’m out of the Slayer outfit,” Chet said.
Shooting stretched late into the afternoon, with technicians and actors flying around in a state just short of chaos. Stiller kept busy running errands forthe cast, especially Jerri Bell, and stayed out of the way of the Hardys and Mortons except to toss them an occasional sneer.
“He’s an excellent gofer . . . for a creep,” Iola commented.
“I don’t think Gross is too pleased with him, though,” Joe said. “Look.”
As they watched, Geoff Gross drained the coffee cup in his hand and violently crushed it. He tossed it aside and called, “Stiller! Where’s my coffee?”
Stiller looked annoyed but said, “Coming, Mr. Gross.” He took his tray, piled high with coffee and soft drinks, and ducked behind a flat to cross to Gross’s chair. Webb was working nearby, setting up the next shot. Suddenly he turned and yelled, “Hey! Look out!”
He rushed behind the flat, and a moment later there was a loud popping noise,
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