Page 12 of Keep It

Chapter 6

ANYA

The next morning, I’m a wreck. Sleep the night before was evasive, even in Claudette’s luxurious bed with the sounds of the city seeping through the Juliet balcony. I have managed to look presentable; pulling on jeans and a t-shirt, swiping some mascara on my eyelashes and concealer on my dark circles.

Following the address on the call sheet, I catch the metro to the edge of the Bois de Boulogne. Production has commandeered an empty car park at the edge of the park, large white trailers propped haphazardly behind temporary gates.

Taking a deep breath, I head to what looks like the entrance. A beefy security guard steps into my path holding out a hand.

“Désolémademoisellevousnepouvezpasvenirici.”

“Oh,jetravailleici,” I pull out my phone, unlocking the screen with sweaty fingers and showing him the call sheet.

The guard nods and lets me pass.

Glancing around the base, I take a shaky breath. What now? I stand, biting my lip until a blonde woman jumps out of a truck, radio stuck to the belt loop of her jeans.

Gathering my courage, I head in her direction.

“Uhm hi?” I say, embarrassment rising. “I’m Anya, I’m a PA?”

The blonde woman blinks at me for a few seconds before saying “Production is that one.” She points to the truck she emerged from.

I mutter a thank you as the woman darts off. I can’t help but feel that I have already committed a grave faux pas but have no idea what it could have been. And it was probably not worse than the train journey from hell. Shaking off the memory, I head to the production truck.

After I lightly tap on the door, it swings open to reveal a brunette woman balancing on the top step, a pen resting behind her ear.

“Anya?” she asks.

“Yes, hi.” I offer my hand.

The woman shakes my hand with a bemused smile. “Devon, Production Coordinator. We spoke on the phone. Come on in and meet everyone.” She steps back to let me step into the trailer.

I have never been in an official film trailer before, this one is kitted out like a mini office on wheels. Wooden desks are stacked basically on top of each other and miles of papers are pinned to the walls.

Inside there are three desks littered with papers and empty coffee cups. An older man with blond thinning hair looks up from his laptop and gives me a half smile.

“This is Brian the Production Manager. This is Sarah our 2nd AD, and you’ve just missed Rachel our 1st.” A woman with short brown hair pulled back in a slick bun gives me a friendly wave. “You’ll meet our Line Producer David and Michael the Producer later, they’re in a meeting with the Exec’s at the minute.”

“Hi,” I say shyly.

“Well,” Devon says. “Let me give you a quick tour.” I spin around on my heels and jump back down the stairs. Devon follows and pulls the door behind her. “I don’t usually give tours but I didn’t want to say this in the truck. I’ll be honest, I’m not really sure what your job is.”

Thank god, I think. “Yeah, the job description I got was pretty vague.” I force out a fake chuckle.

“Basically, from what I can tell — Danny is a bit…well…he’s difficult apparently. And the producers figured having someone on his back 24/7 would be the best way to ensure he’s…handled.”

“Handled.” I echo.

Devon nods as if I’m picking up what she’s putting down. “Exactly.”

“So…like his assistant?”

“Exactly,” Devon repeats. “Well, I guess it could be described more as a babysitter.”

At my raised eyebrows Devon rushes to reassure me. “Not that that’s what you’ll be doing. Anyway, you know what these actors are like, more like toddlers than anything else. They just need a bit of attention and a lot of wrangling.”

I absorb this. A babysitter? For a grown man. “Isn’t this the 2nds job?” I ask. On a set this size, the second assistant director would be in charge of the cast; getting them on set on time and catering to their various needs.

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