The Pickle Chronicles (Celebrity One Shots)

The Ride (Michael Fassbender)

I stop for a moment outside Michael’s door, my hand hovering, about to knock.  I listen quietly for a minute, but I don’t hear anything coming from inside his trailer.  It’s been a strange six weeks.  This hasn’t been my first time as an assistant to a rather famous actor, but this is the first time we’ve worked together and barely exchanged a handful of sentences.  Don’t get me wrong.  Michael has been polite, professional, and even kind at times, but we haven’t exactly become best friend.  Or even friends.  Maybe not even acquaintances.  Just sort of barely colleagues.  Although this project is over, I have a feeling I may see him again, as I’m already know I’m working on his next set.  Not as his assistant, but as an assistant to one of his co workers.  I have to keep things cordial and easy going, since it really is a small business and I have no idea how many times I may bump into him again.

My heart picks up a bit faster, and I knock loudly on his trailer.  I have no reason to be nervous.  He’s always been kind to me, but he is a bit intimidating.  There’s something about the way he takes up space in a room.  He’s tall, and for this movie, he’s bulked up quite a bit.  He’s all big shoulders, and a long, lean torso that narrows down to tight hips and powerful legs.  Let’s be honest, I’ve been around good looking actors before, but never one quite like him.

I wait for half a minute, and then finally I hear footsteps and the trailer door swings open.  Michael hovers above me, his crystal blue eyes squinting in the mid day sun.  I’m standing on the steps to his trailer, and so I come up to about waist height on him.  He’s already quite a bit taller than me, but now, I’m positively dwarfed by him.  He looks down at me, and waits.

“Michael, I have some paperwork from the office, and I need your script rewrites.” I say, silently scolding myself for hesitating a moment too long.  I can’t help it.  He’s an imposing figure.  He nods, and then holds the door open for a split second before turning and walking back into the dark trailer.  I’ve worked with him long enough to recognize that that is him inviting me inside.  I press my lips together, and walk out of the hot July sun and into his dark, air conditioned trailer.

It’s cool and smells faintly of cigarette smoke inside.  Cigarette smoke and something else, something sweet and musky.  Cologne or aftershave.  It’s a surprisingly nice combination. I notice that he has the stub of a cigarette in his hand and he presses it into an ashtray sitting on the little table by the windows.

“Sorry. Trying to quit.” He says softly, glancing at me with a half smile.  I shrug.

“It’s fine. It’s your trailer.” I take a step forward, looking around.  I’ve been in here at least a dozen times and I never know what to do when I am there.  He keeps it clean.  A sweater sits on the back of one of the cushioned chairs.  The television is on, but on mute.  There’s a bottle of water and what looks like one of those green smoothies sitting on the table.  It is an odd juxtaposition next to the cigarette ashtray.

“That is true.” He turns and without saying anything, pulls his shirt up over his head.  I know my eyes nearly bug out of my head, but I simply take a half step back, and try not to squeal.  The man is all lean, toned muscle.  He’s tan from the excruciating Australian sun, and just a tiny bit dirty from the last scene they were shooting.  His character is supposed to be an ex-con, lean, hungry, road weary.  He fits the part quite well, especially standing in front of me in low slung, dark jeans, boots and no shirt.

“I, uh…” I stutter, thrusting the papers out in front of me.  Today was the last day of shooting.  I just need to get him this paperwork, return the company car to the office, and then I have two glorious weeks off til I’m on my next shoot.

“Thanks for all your help the past few weeks.” Michael says. He turns and I feel his eyes sweep up and down my body, taking me in.  I shift and blink, then pull the papers back to my chest, crossing my arms.  I’m surprised at his compliment, since I had started to take his somewhat cold nature to be because he was unhappy with how I was acting as his assistant.