"Cut!" the director's voice boomed through the megaphone, "Berkley, that was horrible! I pay you good money to get in front of this goddamn camera and show some emotion! Where the hell is it?!"
"I'm sorry, Sam. I'm trying as hard as I can. I just broke up with my girlfriend last night and-" Berkley began.
"Okay, B. I'm gonna stop you right there. I don't give a damn about you or your little girlfriend. I pay you to act, not to sulk. So get up there and show me some fucking emotion!" Sam was obviously not in a good mood that day. And as Sam's personal secretary, Delilah Rosenthal, stated "When Sam isn't happy, nobody is happy".
I suppose he had a right to be pissed though. He had been told by the head of Hollywood Stars that he had thirteen months to make a cinematic masterpiece. So far it had been seven and a half months and they weren't even done with filming. The movie was a multi-million dollar production called Stealth; It was about two completely opposite secret agents who are put on a mission together, and how they fall in love along the way. I know what you're thinking. "Wow, that's NEVER been done before!". That was my initial response to it at first. Hell, it still is. That plot has been done so many times that it's impossible to count. But I needed a job and when I heard that the famous director Sam Styles was hiring people to work on the set of his new movie, I jumped at the opportunity. My name is Michael, by the way. Michael Braeburne: Struggling actor from New York City. I thought getting a job with a famous director might give a jump-start to my career... Boy, was I wrong. That week that I had been working with Sam had made my life a living hell. Metaphorically speaking, of course... I guess I probably should have looked into the job more, though. I found out after I showed up to work on the first day that I only got the job because the old "coffee boy" suffered some mental break down during one of Sam's rants. I was his mid-movie replacement.
"Now, I want you all to get your lazy asses in front of this camera and, for God's sake, give me something to work with!" Sam yelled from his director's chair.
The cast and crew who had stayed on set let out a collective groan that came along with the knowledge that they would be staying on set for at least another two hours.
I looked over to see Delilah sauntering over to me, wearing a pair of bright red skinny jeans, a shirt that was promoting some indie rock band that I had never heard of before, and a small Bluetooth headset.
"You'll get used to working these weird hours eventually," she said as I slid down the wall to sit on the ground. "You should try to learn how to sleep with your eyes open. It makes all of this much more bearable. Looks like you could use some sleep."
"I didn't even know that was possible-sleeping with your eyes open, that is," I replied, using all of the strength I had to summon up a smile "And here I am, thinking that I'm hiding the fact that I only got 4 hours of sleep last night."
"Ha, you're cute. That's more sleep than I get in a week." She said with a chuckle "I haven't seen you around here, you new? I'm Delilah, by the way. What's your name?" She slid down the wall to sit and extend her hand to me.
It took me by surprise when she had said that. I assumed that since I knew her name, that she would know my name. But, I supposed it made sense, seeing as she was so much higher up on the ladder than I was; after all, I was just a "coffee boy", as Sam referred to me.
"Michael Braeburne," I said, taking her hand and shaking it "This is my first week here. Nice to meet you."
"Braeburne?" she said as her brow furrowed "That name sounds really familiar... Oh! Isn't there some billionaire record producer named Chad Braeburne?" She asked, her face lighting up as she came to this realization.
"Hm, I think so..." I said.
"Well, it's a small world, isn't it?" she said as she grinned and tilted her head back to rest on the wall "I didn't know that Braeburne was such a common last name."
Truth was, it really wasn't. Chad Braeburne was my father. Now, you may be wondering why I am stuck at a job with low-income and crappy working hours if my dad is some big-shot in the music industry. Fact is, plain and simple, my dad cut me off from the family's supply of money after I dropped out of the law school that he had paid big bucks to get me into. He then proceeded to kick me out of the house when he found out that I had quit to become an actor. I had decided not to let Delilah in on my little secret because, usually, when people find out who I am, they start treating me entirely different...
"Yeah," I repeated "small world."
