Sedona Law 5 by Dave Daren (e book reader android .TXT) 📗

“You mean a garden party?” Vicki asked.

“No,” I replied with a shake of my head. “It looks like they want help harvesting their garden.”

“I can’t believe they’ve seen a turnaround that quick,” she mused.

My dad had started a garden not too long ago, because he said Jimi Hendrix told him to. So, now they have a garden.

I texted my mother back and told her we had rehearsal all day, so we wouldn’t be joining them for the gardening party.

We grabbed our scripts and coffee and headed out to my car. We spent the twenty minute drive out to Steele Productions running our shared scenes together.

“I oddly feel prepared for this,” I said as we exited the car.

Steele Productions was a converted warehouse, which seemed fitting. Some shots would be filmed on location, others would be shot at a sound stage. A film studio would need enough room to fit a full set of a living room, for example, plus have enough room for cameras. Right now, the warehouse area was mainly an open concrete space, with cameras liberally scattered and studio lighting in the ceiling.

We cut through the open set area, and into the office area where we were still doing preliminary rehearsals. Like us, everyone seemed a little more together now. It was still early enough in the day that the air conditioner sufficed, and there were even donuts and coffee on the cast table.

Vicki and I sat down in the quiet room, and most everyone was reading their scripts. I made a cup of coffee and followed suit.

Then Jerry entered the room, as well rested and fresh as I guessed he ever got. He rubbed his hands together.

“Alright people,” he announced, and his voice had that gravelly quality of a morning full of coffee. “We’re going to get in a solid read through. We shouldn’t have any more problems today.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed a folding chair and settled in.

“Will The Count be here?” Ken asked, as the statement begged the question.

Jerry sighed deeply, and his body went rigid.

“No,” he stated flatly. “‘The Count’ will not be joining us today.”

He let the statement hang in the air, and no one wanted to be the one who asked the obvious follow up questions, and Jerry didn’t offer the answers.

“Everyone get some coffee, donuts,” Jerry gestured toward the refreshments in the middle of the table,“and let’s take it from the top.”

Everyone quickly flipped to the first page of the script.

“Gretchen,” Jerry gestured toward Allison, “it’s your line.”

“Right,” Allison started. “‘Oh, John, I’m so glad you’re finally home. I miss you when you work those long hours at the factory.’”

I shook my head at the anachronism, and then remembered we were putting the film in the 1920’s.

“‘I know, baby,’” Ken rea., “‘Soon when I get my military appointment from the King, we’ll get out of this small town hell hole, and we’ll move to the big city’.”

“‘Tell me about New York again, John,’” Allison read. “‘What’s it like?’”

“‘It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen, Gretchen,’” Ken replied. “‘Buildings that reach the sky.’”

“‘Now you’re just lying,’” Allison laughed. “‘No building can reach the sky.’”

“‘I tell you, it’s true,’” Ken said. “‘You’ll see. We’re just waiting for the King to sign off on the appointment, and then we will move to the Royal Province of New York.’”

“‘I can’t wait,’” Allison sighed. “‘I hate that your military appointment has to be approved all the way in London, when all the officers here in Virginia and New York are dying for you to sign on.’”

“‘I know, baby,’” he said. “‘It’s the price of being a loyal patriot.’”

“‘You know they had an anti-monarchy rally today,’” Allison commented.

“‘I hate those--” Ken stopped and turned to the Jerry. “Isn’t this supposed to be a family event? Can we drop an ‘F’ bomb?”

“Please,” Jerry rolled his eyes “there’s nothing in this film these kids aren’t already seeing on TV.”

“Maybe,” Ken said, “but I don’t think John would use that kind of language in front of a woman, especially his … what … fiancee, I think?”

“He’s a soldier,” Jerry snarled. “Read it like it’s written.”

“But,” Ken protested with a frown, “he’s not a soldier yet, and the whole premise of the movie is he never really becomes a soldier, at least not a British one. He becomes a revolutionary soldier on the fly.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Jerry growled. “Can you just read the script as it’s written, or do I need to replace you with someone else? Because I can. There are a hundred pretty boys in this town I can replace you with.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult, here Jerry,” Ken said. “It’s just--”

“I think you are,” Jerry argued.

Suddenly, it became clear to everyone in the room that this had nothing to do with vulgarity in the script. These two guys had history.

“Look,” Ken sighed, “I’m not putting up with your bullshit all month.”

“Is that right?” Jerry stood at the challenge.

“You’re going to act like a professional on the set, or I walk,” Ken said and raised his chin.

“Ken,” Allison chided.

“Stay out of this,” Ken told her. “You want to take this outside, Jerry? Cause if you want to take this outside--”

“No,” Jerry spat. “We’re in the middle of a god damn rehearsal, Ken, if you haven’t noticed. You want to walk, walk. I don’t give a shit.”

Ken slammed the script down and walked out of the room.

“Ken,” Allison called out after him, but he ignored her.

Allison sat staring at the doorway, holding her script, her mediocre acting skills not able to save her from the awkwardness of being dumped by her co-star, mid-scene.

“Henry Irving,” Jerry barked at me, and I jolted to attention. “Would you read for Ken