By the time seven o’clock rolled around, the party was well underway. We had been shooting for eight hours straight, and I now knew the grounds intimately. It was kind of like Sex Disneyland: grape-eating monkeys in cages, a very rare white peacock with endless white plumes folded into a tight fan, a cabin house with a pool table, arcade games played by dozens of naked bodies, and last, but not least, a floor bed—a room where the entire floor is a bed.
“It’s Brock!” Sally wailed. “Brock is here!”
Brock puckered up for what looked like a slobbery grandpa kiss on Sally’s lips. The cameras took it all in. How quickly she had grown accustomed to this lifestyle.
“Jane, Jane!” Sally yelled toward me. “Did you get that? Did you get that on tape, like for the show? I want that in my piece. I want my friends to see me kissing the man!” She turned back toward Brock to lick his ear.
“I hope you got that,” Danny said, pulling at my sleeve. “That’s television gold.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Danny, we got it.”
My cameraman was rolling, hence the red light flashing, and the lens was pointed in Sally’s direction, hence filming her. It was that simple.
“Jane, come on!” Danny grabbed my shoulder. “Brock is giving Sally a personal tour of the mansion. And then we’re going to surprise Sally when Matt arrives for the big celebration. We can’t miss it!”
Danny, along with Celebrity TV and various news crews, scrambled across my path, practically crushing my toes in the process. “Look out, Blondie!” a cameraman shouted.
Sally turned and scowled at me for not being thick on her heels with my camera crew. “Jane, are you coming? This is my moment! Jane!”
Then Danny again shouted. “Jane, Jane! Get your crew. Get on this now!”
Clearly, Danny hadn’t noticed my crew already positioned in front of Sally, per my direction, filming the whole thing. After all, it was I who had set up the tour, Matt’s surprise arrival, and the whole damn night in the first place, days ago.
“Jane!” Danny yelped, unrelenting. “We need this now!”
I screamed internally, tucking my phone into my pocket. How had I strayed so far? I had come to LA to make it as a credible TV producer! And so far, my only credits were documenting a sleazy date show with a completely neurotic Purr model; chasing a spoiled celebrity heiress as she snubbed her way through France; and following an uninspired former assistant turned overnight reality TV celebrity/nudie model/bridezilla around Sex Disneyland. What the. . .?
It was punishment—karmic discrimination, even. Why me? At this juncture, any show of substance seemed miles beyond my reach. My great big ridiculous you’re-so-special grin was cracking.
“Jane, I can’t believe you’re just standing there!” Danny clomped back toward me. “Where’s your crew? Why aren’t we filming this?”
“If you look straight ahead, Danny, you’ll see,” I said with my jaw clenched, “that they are filming the entire scene. That’s my crew—sorry, our crew—in the middle of the scrum, taking it all in. The red light is on. That is the record light. You’ve heard of a record light, right? Never mind. And what good would I be doing up there if I were in the shot, as you’ve been all night. That is why I’m ‘just standing here,’ as you so aptly phrased it—to stay out of the way. . . out of the shot. That is what a professional does. You know, someone with experience. Get it? Copy that? Understand?”
“Well. . . I. . . uh. . . just. . .” Danny stuttered, for the first time without something clever to say. “I. . . just. . . thought. . . um. . . Don’t you need to direct this scene? You’re not directing.”
“That’s what the walkie-talkie is for!”
“But. . . you. . . should. . . You. . . need—”
“Danny, what I need is to leave,” I said. My face was completely emotionless. “I’m finished.”
“That’s not funny, Jane,” he said, a terrified smile on his face.
“Not joking, Danny. I quit.”
“You can’t! I’m your supervisor. I say you can’t!”
“Danny, if you’re so damn hot, you direct.”
“Come on! Really, Jane, you’re amazing. Please, just stay,” he said, nicer than nice.
“I’m out.” I grabbed my bag, thanked the cameraman and soundman over the walkie-talkie, and told them to “follow the puck” for the rest of the evening.