Chapter 555: Acting Chops
It took a couple of runabouts around the block before eyes could finally whittle down the endless rows of bricks and concrete to find the one unassuming building I needed out of dozens.
A dingy little vintage tavern I had to clamber all the way up to the third floor for because much like me 24/7, the lift wasn’t functioning properly. I managed to find a parking space to stash my ride, and while doing that, I also spotted Amanda’s car right across me – and just adjacent to hers, some long-ass stretchy limousine took like three spots for itself.
I assumed that was Leon’s there.
Filming equipment poked out of every window of his limo, as well corner edges of costumes sticking out of the trunk, which leads me to assume that he was playing cabby for a bunch of other cast members too.
How nice of him.
Won’t lie, every step I took closer to the mahogany door, swelled a bigger balloon of unease in my gut. First-time actor, first-time shoot – why the hell wouldn’t I be, right? I don’t mind embarrassing myself. Hell, I do it every minute I’m living regardless. But in front of a camera, captured and recorded, and in full view of a thousand judgemental gazes to see – I’m just committing social suicide at this point.
No, though. Girlfriend’s happiness comes first, always must come first. Happy waifu happy laifu, as the cool kids say, I think, I dunno... maybe.
.....
Still, I am going at this completely blind. Not exactly the wisest idea. Included in the cast without so much as an audition, relegated a major role without so much as shaking hands with the director. How does that work? And how exactly is everyone okay with this too?
Should probably just stop overthinking this. Not like it’ll make a difference, I’m already here, aren’t I?
That’s right, in front of the door, a big brazen sign hanging proclaimed it ‘close’, and before I could capitalize on that as an excuse to just bail, it flung wide open, nearly sending me and my crooked hat a one-way ticket to slumberland.
“Well, I’ll be! Waddaya know? Bin’ thinkin’ you’s a right goner, I did!”
Some freaky bow-and-arrow lady answered my nonexistent greeting, welcoming me in with this foreign exotic language I’ve no idea what, with the thickest accent that seriously makes me want to... wait.
“Amanda?”
Bow-lady threw a pretty simper, batting a pair of familiar hazel eyes. “Sorry, Don’t know nuthin’ ’bout this girlie Amender of yours. But you’s can call me Tressa Yar if yer like! Right happy to be of sum servincin’!”
Aman... Tressa was tight-fitted in what looked to be a bundle of autumn leaves seamed and sewed into a garb, a very accentuating garb at that, clinging and emphasizing the slender yet ample frame of her body, revealing nothing, yet somehow also exposing everything simultaneously.
A crown woven in stems and adorned with flower petals sat wrapped around her head, and her long blonde hair was tied into a long single braid that also became a bountiful garden meadow for blossoming flowers to prosper and sprout.
I always did think that Amanda was like a sunflower personified – but this was really taking it to the next level.
“Maybe I should have done research beforehand on your character,” I remark, blinking back both my confusion and awe. “Are you supposed to be Mother Nature?”
“Aha, close! Yer reachin’ very close there sir!” She said, everything from her springy and carefree, and really, I wonder just how she could move so much despite being just standing in place. “This lovely maiden gracin’ yer presence here ain’t no other than de’ great-great-great-great-great-great many great-grand descendant of de’ great Divine ‘erself – Frederika!”
Surely, anybody who was in the know of the lore would probably be doing flips right about now. But since for some reason, I continue to remain ignorant of my own family history – all I could do was just nod away in acknowledgment and admire just how well Amanda could disappear only for this Tressa to emerge in her stead.
Hmm-ing and hah-ing, Tressa scoured me up and down, a twinkle in her deep brown eyes growing brighter and brighter with rousing interest.
“And you good sir, surefully ain’t nobody else but that esteemed Chester fella, ain’tcha?” She asked, then before I could do anything else, her hand found its way into mine, violently tried to shake it loose from its socket, before tugging me in deeper inside, all with the loudest, keenest proclamation, “Why, we’ve all been itchin’ to meet ya, haven’t we folks?!”
My hat fell over my eyes somewhere between the greeting and the assault, and when I unobscured my sights, I did a double-take – then a triple. Instead of being pulled indoors, it was as if I was whisked away into a completely different world.
Immersive was the word. Like I was just dropped into a page of a novel, a screenshot from a game, or speaking quite literally – a scene from a movie. I don’t have much knowledge about how a tavern should look given the setting – but I daresay the film crew hit the nail on the head here... so long as you overlook the cameras, the studio lights, boom mics, and whatnot.
I mean, the cutlery laid out, the beverages atop the shelves, the draperies hung, the furniture assembled, the lightning shining – everything, to perfection. I was pretty much staring at weeks worth of hard work. Fan film? I’m beginning to think that’s just a joke. Sure I didn’t just waltz into a big-budget Hollywood production?
People were everywhere, most of which I’d never met a day in my life – staring at me. All in costume, in makeup, classy, refined, dressed in similar clothing to mine... and for some reason, permeating this air of um... pretense? Acting? The way their eyes stared, their mannerisms precise and proper... were they all also in character? LIke Amanda?
There were more people too further beyond what I can see. This tavern comprised basically the entiriey of the third floor of this building, and yet they manage to fill up the space to the brim with just presence alone.
“Ah-ha! A mighty sight of sore eyes you are, aren’t you? I can’t express the joy it is to see you here with us again!”
Someone from the backdrop emerged, dressed obviously as a standout to the frills and laces of the crowd, with dashing looks, a twinkling smile, and a large red cape fluttering his magnificence.
Leon was here.
Or should I say Dad?
Okay, ew, no.
Strutting and stopping a fair distance away from me, Leonardo raised his hand to which I immediately took, confused.
“I see the fair Tressa has a way with words that of which I regrettably do not possess if she is able to persuade you to join us on this wondrous venture of ours,” He said, beaming a delighted smile.
“Aw, nah!” Tressa chimed, slapping me hard on the back with as much fervor as her tone. “Just gotta learn to say them magic words, silly Leo! That’s what I did, ya know?” Then after that, with a hop, skip and a jump, she began to move away, “Kay, it be preppin’ time already! Gotta get meself ready! You two be good friends, alright? See ya soon!”
And as I helplessly watched her disappear into the mess of cables and wires and cast and crew members, Leonardo must have noticed my utter cluelessness, leaning into me and whispering quietly, “We all stay in character at all times during shooting except for breaks. Method-acting, you know?”
“Why?” I whispered back.
“It’s the rule. The director’s rule,” He answered, nudging and directing my stare over to a man sitting huddled atop a folding chair, emanating intensity and sternness of every kind, a focused gaze looming and scouring over the script in his hand. “He’s a big fan of Asteria, big sucker for authenticity – and he can be quite uptight about it, let me tell you. You memorize your lines?”
I blinked, stunned. “W-What lines? I don’t have any lines. Did we get diffrent scripts? Was mine written in invisible ink?”
“Ah, that’s right! You were written at the last minute, weren’t you?” Leon suppressed a chuckle. “Right, I remember Amanda convincing the director to give you a bigger role. Said you have a specialty for improvisation or something?”
“I – what?”
“Her words, not mine,” He smiled. “Anyway, I believe it. And he buys it. Apparently being the guy who knocked me the hell out with one punch brings with it a certain kind of reputation.”
“Still sore about that, I see,” I muttered.
“Very...” Leon said back. “So anyway, I guess in today’s shooting, he’s testing you – you’re gonna have to come up with your lines on the spot.”
I gaped at him. “You’re shitting me.”
“That’s the spirit,” He said, patting me lightly on the back, before clearing his throat and pulling away. “Now, shall we, then, Chester? Are you ready to give a performance to inspire millions?”
Chester took a step back, the sole of his shoes clacking his utter disbelief profoundly... and with his pants wrinkled, a sleeve unbuttoned, and his hat feeling once more, he felt a lump, and a word lunged out his throat.
“No...”
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