Page 70 of Until the Sea Runs Dry

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Everywhere she looked, people hurried around like bees.

Bright lights beamed down, artificially illuminating the New York city set that Jane stood in.

It was so surreal.

She had seen the wooden planks and fittings of the unfinished back side of the brownstone buildings yet, from the front, she could swear that the tree-lined street was real.

She touched a leaf from a branch that dangled overhead. Plastic. There was no life in the thing, no energy or that feeling of groundedness that came with a living tree.

It was all as fake as the tarmac beneath her feet. Only the cloudless blue sky was real, that and the endless bustling of the film crew.

Loki, her trusty companion, strained against his leash, stalking a fluttering piece of paper that danced in the breeze caused by a giant wind machine. She loosened her grip on him, letting the leash go slack. With a cute wiggle of his butt, Loki leaped forward and caught his victim between two fluffy paws. He whined excitedly, snapping his jaws at the piece of paper which Jane now saw was today’s call sheet.

She had seen them everywhere, but it was only when she had asked a production assistant that she was told what it was. Put together by the assistant director, it was the daily schedule detailing what scenes would be shot that day, where they would be shooting, and what cast or specialist personnel or equipment might be needed for it.

“Can I see that before you destroy it?”

Making a game of it, she stole the call sheet from right under Loki’s nose. He took it with good form, tail thumping on the ground as he waited for her to play some more.

“You can have it back in a minute.”

Her only answer was another whine of excitement, followed by the lowering of his two front paws while his butt pointed toward the sky as he found a leaf to chase after.

She scanned over the details, trying to make sense of them. There was a lot of information on the page: from the weather, expected time of sunrise and sunset, when they would be breaking for lunch, as well as the two scenes that would be shot. There wasn’t much cast listed today, only Logan and two others. She wondered what the scenes would entail.

A group of men walked past, all manner of tools clipped to the belts that were slung around their waists. The most commanding of them, a silver-haired man with a pencil tucked in his ear, held up what looked to be a drawing of the interior of the Statue of Liberty. Their passing conversation drifted over as they calculated the measurement and work involved with creating such a set.

Someone hurried past, speaking into a radio, guiding extras dressed in twenties style clothing. The movie was a period piece based on the true story of a crime lord who almost took down New York. She didn’t know much about it, just that it was supposed to have a great story.

The door to a large trailer, opened.

“Jane? Do we have a Jane here?” A production assistant called out in a voice loaded with impatience.

Jane had to fight the ridiculous urge to raise her hand. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Logan will see you now.”

She rushed off, radio chattering, leaving the door open for her.

Inside, the trailer was covered with lush cream carpet. So impractical. She’d hate to be the cleaner.

Long leather couches, mahogany surfaces, and discreet lighting gave the car a sophisticated yet comfortable feel. A 65-inch television overlooked the seating area where a glass coffee table was covered with a thick script printed on cream paper.

A rainbow of notes had been stuck to the script, the handwriting on them large and clear. Surprisingly, there were also tiny drawn pictures on the notes among the sentences. At a laugh from the end of the trailer, she glanced over.

A makeup area had been created in what might have been a bedroom prior. Logan sat in a swivel chair in front of a large mirror lit with bright bulbs. His hair was expertly styled by an ultra slim man with blue hair and a pencil mustache that made Jane think of the villain in old cartoons.

Seeing Logan, Loki barked and bolted for him, tugging the leash from her hand. He launched himself into his lap, but only made it half on. His back legs paddled the air comically, though the stylist didn’t seem too amused.

“I can’t work if you insist on bouncing around like that!”

But Loki didn’t care about him, lavishing love on Logan’s face until he had to force him down.

“I liked it more when you didn’t have the fleabag.”

“You and I both, Federic. You and I both,” Logan responded with a wry shake of his head. Though his words seemed harsh, he softened them with a stroke of Loki’s head. Loki sighed happily when his attention was caught by a pair of his shoes that sat on the floor. His ears pricked up, his mouth already opening in anticipation.

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