Recklessly Bound

Prologue

"And... cut," the mad director yells. Everyone halts. The sound and system crew give themselves a few minute break. The people around us start moving again. Yet, we, the actors are the only ones who aren't moving anymore.

It's all about actions. It's about the movement and what better relief than to stop doing what you are being paid for. Being immobile.

"You are not showing your emotions correctly Alex. Listen, when you say 'I'm sorry' well you god damn better be." Our director, Sam, who's been working for my dad's production lot for over a decade yells. Sam Peterson is famous for his hard work and the way he cracks the whip on his actors.

How would I know that?

Well, I'm one of his actors as of the moment. And so, I would be, for the next two movies I have signed.

My father's business has been successful, in a way, in the past few years since he has opened this lot, a mere production studio made by my grandfather. He has produced many great movies. Nothing of Oscar winner or a great hit, as bigger productions, would call it, but he has what he calls 'a business of living and not dying,'

Being in production is our blood. Since the day my great-grandfather walked onto a lot and worked his way as a stage cleaner to being someone who was actually in the process of making movies, the generation after his, we have followed his legacy, well, of course, except my mother who was born in a family of doctors. In a way, my father's gene has defeated my mother's.

Four years ago, I was recognized to be talented by one of my father's producers. He insisted to cast me in one of their movies. By then I was halfway through college. My father was not happy with the decision. But one way or another my bachelor in the drama was going to make me end up where I am now, so be it.

"I'm sorry I keep messing. It's just... I don't feel like my character should be sad at this time. It's something that has happened. You know..." Alex, my co-worker and the main character in the movie we are currently shooting, says.

Although I'm considered boss' daughter, no one is considering me any different from others and that is the way it should be. If there is one thing that people on the lot really care about, it's proficiency.

"No, you were great. You're right. Sometimes, it just doesn't feel right. I would just deal with it, but if it really bothers you, maybe you should have a talk with the producers and the writers. He wouldn't be able to do anything," I point my head toward our director, Sam.

Sam is a good guy, but for the past three weeks, since we have started shooting, I have sensed a change of attitude, which not only me but also everyone else does not appreciate.

"Yep, wouldn't think so. Hey, Evelyn, what are you doing this weekend?" Alex asks.

"Dunno yet, but I'm sure Chris has some plans for us," I answer.

Alex has been desperately trying to get my attention. He's not the only one, though. Many of the men, actors, producers, writers and even custom designers have tried to grab my attention. But mine is already grasped, through the hand of my beloved Chris, my boyfriend of two years. And, if there's one thing you should about pictures, is that everyone would do anything to have that extra attention of the boss, and what a better way to get that through his daughter.

He's a pediatrician, working for a small yet accomplished clinic here in LA. Chris and I met in an English class in college. Coincidence had it to introduce us. By then, I had one more year to finish my degree and him one year to finish Medical School. Now two years later, he's working successfully and I'm picking up my career. Our relationship has gone smoothly. We understand each other very well. Moreover, well, we love each other.

During these two years, I found the courage to finally give my V card to the man I love. It was the most beautiful thing. Beautiful enough that we are still on it!

One would think a life such as mine is flawless. A beauty to live. But the ugly truth is, we all have our moments. Living under the spotlight, I couldn't have privacy. When I was in high school, where only 'famous kids' go, I would be cramped in a corner and watch those who were more famous have the light. Although days come and go, you would wish to have a normal life. One that you wouldn't have to live under the shadow of bigger fish and one that wouldn't make you run from the restaurant when the flashes of the camera get you.

Now years into my career, I hear about truth, lies, rumors and none existence stories. Surely, it has its benefits for those who are after it, but when the peak pokes you, there's little to keep of what you can keep. The truth.

The commotion in the studio picks up. My makeup artist starts refreshing my makeup, dripping false tears in my eyes. Everyone gets back to his or her position. My makeup artist touches my hair and my face to ensure quality before disappearing behind the scene. The Assistant Director shouts for a quiet command before asking to roll the camera and sound.

The camera gets close to my face, the spotlight over my head burns my eyes. Alex breathes in and breathes out to get ready.

"Sixty-eight, take three." The AD calls again as he snaps the clapperboard.

And like that, I'm no longer Evelyn. Instead, I'm Elizabeth. My character. I'm not happily in a relationship, but miserably trying to fall in love. I'm not rich, but I'm surviving.

"And action!" he shouts.