Bootycall 2 - J. D. Hawkins Page 0,4
feeling like everything I do is being watched and reported on like I’m living in nineteen eighty-four.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You read a book?”
“Hey,” he laughs, “I’m not a total idiot.”
“Sorry.”
“I mean, I watched the movie. Isn’t that the same thing?”
I laugh and he smiles. Jesus, it feels good. I look up at his eyes, letting the gentle silence clear away all the frustration I had towards him.
“Look,” he says, “shooting starts today, so let’s make a fresh start of it. Here’s the deal. You give me a little more breathing room, trust me a little more, and I won’t play any more games, I’ll put a hundred percent into this project. What do you say?”
He offers his hand, and I look at it for a second before taking it. “Fine, then.”
“Thank you.” His hand is so warm wrapped around my own that I force myself to drop it before any inappropriate thoughts start flitting across my mind.
He takes another step towards the trailer.
“Wait, Dylan. I didn’t grab a call sheet yet,” I say. “What scenes are you shooting today?”
He turns to face me again, and there’s a little shakiness in him as he combs a hand through his hair.
“Nothing big. Just some exteriors, an outside conversation. We’re doing it straight away so we can use the natural light. And later there’s an interior, on the sound stage.”
“Good,” I say, until I notice the quick shifting of his eyes and the way his breath comes out in stunted waves. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” he says, a little too quickly. He smiles a half-cocked smile, unconvincing and tainted by the almost fear-like anxiety in his eyes.
“Dylan? Are you nervous?”
“No! No. Nervous? No. Ah…I’m a professional, right? Come on.”
He’s not looking at me, one hand continuously combing through his hair while the other clenches into a fist at his side.
Something’s seriously wrong here.
I look around, then grab his arm and pull him away from the door of the makeup trailer, around the corner of a sound stage to a secluded area of the back lot.
“Dylan? What’s wrong?” I say, placing a hand on his shoulder.
He shifts around nervously, breathing heavily and quickly, trying to catch his breath.
“Ah…it’s just that, uh…” He shakes his head. He can’t even get the words out.
“Dylan! Did you take something?” I hiss.
“No! I’m not on drugs! Why? Do you have any? Haha! No. No drugs. I’m just…acting in a film that’s going to be seen by billions of people…maybe make an utter fool of myself…in front of the entire movie-going world. Everyone’s counting on me to not fuck this up…and…um…I mean, I can do it…it’s just that…”
He crouches down and struggles to control his breathing.
“Dylan!” I say, kneeling in front of him, rubbing his back. “Dylan, look at me.”
He tries to raise his head to meet my eyes, his breathing near hyperventilation levels now. I place my hands on his cheeks and hold his face steady, so that he can see me.
“Breathe, Dylan,” I say, making a big show of breathing deeply myself. “In. Out. Ok? You’re going to be ok.”
After a few seconds of trying to follow my slow pattern of breathing, Dylan regains a little more control, his breath still stuttering, but regular enough that his face begins to settle.
“That’s it. Slowly. Don’t rush, ok? Slow everything down.”
“Thanks,” he gasps. “I just…I don’t know if I can actually do this anymore. I’m out of practice, and what if I was never that good to begin with? Though I guess either way this project will prove it, right? How can this not be a big deal? What am I going to do?”
“You’re an amazing actor, Dylan. A natural actor. At your worst you’re still better than ninety per cent of actors out there. This is the hard part. The part where you don’t know. Once you take that step out onto the set, and start doing it, your instincts will take over. Trust yourself, Dylan. Trust your instincts.”
Dylan smiles a little, his eyes starting to focus on mine. I keep going, not even sure where my words are coming from, but it’s a relief seeing Dylan start to regain control.
“The part was made for you, Dylan. It’s yours. You can do whatever you want with it. It’s not that everyone’s counting on you, it’s that everyone believes in you. Get out of your head, ok?”
Dylan nods, breathes a few more times, then stands up. I rise with him, and he puts his arms around me, pulling me