Lib Novel Page 13
“Who is this?” I managed to get out, lifting the first card I smelled, unwilling to believe what I already knew.
“C’mon Daph, you haven’t figured it out already?” He points at the letter ‘C’ embossed in the bottom right corner.
“I’m gonna need you to spell it out for me, Vin.” I snip a shortened version of his own name back at him, my patience thinning.
“That Folio is from the Panopticon Pictures pack, that just so happens to belong to Cosmo Lamont,” Vinny says, if my imagination doesn’t deceive me, a little reluctantly.
They say that you can take the boy out of Wyoming, but you can’t take Wyoming out of the boy… Though I have to admit, I’ve gotten a little soft these past few years in Hollywood.
Today’s the first day of the damn week that I’m not on the soundstage, and of course it had to be on location where I could freeze my ass off.
As a stunt guy, especially as one who specializes in equine work and motorsport, I have plenty of mornings on location that are less than comfortable. Today was a fairly last minute call to head up north to Vancouver. I needed to do some test shots for a western that I once would have dreamed of being cast in as an actor, rather than simply as some A-lister’s body double for the riding and action scenes.
Beggars can’t be choosers, though. I’ve gotten more than my fair share of good work in the industry due to pack connections. This gig on the new Amos/Bennet nouveau-western in pre-production in the moody, pacific northwest, is no exception.
I’m here because Magnus’ old buddy Amos called in a few favors.
Apparently, the Amos Bennet–Mr. Dubois himself had once promised he’d make a western with Wagner.
Stranger things have happened, but such a collaboration between those two chest puffing cock-o-the-walk types would have been quite the sight to see.
No slight to either of the gents. Can’t hold it against Amos that he’s handsome as the devil and just as charming, and Pack Dubois has been close with Pack Silver since before I joined. As for Magnus? Hell, everyone knows I love Magnus. He’s earned a good portion of his damnable arrogance with being an actual bonafide genius. Not just film either, all the art the motherfucker touches, honestly. Painting, piano, sculpture, he can cook like some swishy gourmet chef. Not to mention, he’s pack. Even If the lovable asshole wasn’t naturally a genius at anything, he’d still be part of my chosen family.
It’s because of all of my love for Gus Wagner, pack politics between Pack Silver and Pack Dubois, combined with my potentially delusional desire to possibly make something more of myself in this business, that I am here freezing my ass off, getting ready to help the screen-testing actors.
Bundled in long johns beneath my jeans and my flannel button down and shearling jacket, for a moment I regret not opting for a warmer choice of headgear. That only lasts as long as it takes for me to meet Jasper, the brilliant chestnut Morgan I’ll be riding today. My vanity swells, too pleased that I chose to wear my white felt pinchfront–despite the cold.
Maybe the boy’s been taken off the farm and Wyoming’s a distant memory, but the dream of playing cowboy remains.
Amelia, the animal talent director, greets me with the reins to a downright gorgeous gray appaloosa held loosely in her hands.
“This is Dutchess,” Amelia, a lifelong horse girl even at the age of 65, nods to the silvery dappled mare, gently patting Dutchess’ neck.
“The actress screen testing for the female lead is going to be riding her today,” she explains before hitching Dutchess to the nearby post between us.
“Well ain’t she a beauty! I’ve been getting to know Jasper over here, myself.” I run my hand down Jasper’s flank, and he nickers appreciatively.
“You’re going to have fun out there today, I’m sure.” Amelia smiles warmly, stopping to stroke the flat plane of Jasper’s forehead before reviewing our agenda for the day.
“Benton wants to get some shots of you and Jasper to get a sense of how he wants to approach some of the more action oriented scenes; figure out how much footage of Amos we’re going to have to edit in for post production purposes,” she explains.
Benton Dubois. Director, cinematographer, and head of the titular pack Dubois, has certainly chosen a great morning for it. The mist still gathers in the valley at the base of the blue, shadowy mountains, but once the sun starts to come up—the mist will begin to burn off and everything’s going to look rosy and golden—beautiful.
“Sure, makes sense.” I shrug, pulling a few baby carrots from the pocket of my jacket and offering them to Jasper from the center of my open palm.
“And when the girl gets here, Benton wants you to do some screen tests with her on the horse—see if she’s even viable.” Amelia rolls her eyes.
“What’s that all about?” I ask with a chuckle, always happy to get a bit of the gossip on set from one of the ladies.
“Oh you know, Director suddenly has it in his mind he’s gotta hire some new omega ingenue who hasn’t even ridden a pony at a birthday party before, to play a role that would require daily shoots on horseback.” Amelia laughs unkindly.
I know all too well what she’s getting at, but I can’t afford to let slip any complaints of my own. I like my job, even if I would like having Amos’s job more in this situation. So, I laugh and nod—a noncommittal validation of Amelia’s grievance.
“Amos may not be able to do what you do, but he’s at least passable at being believable when you have to get shots of his face with him doing basic stuff,” Amelia continues without my prompting.
“If this girl can’t even sit up in a saddle, it’s going to be a waste of everyone’s time,” she concludes, giving my shoulder a pat as if I were just another one of the horses.
“Well, isn’t she lucky she’s got one of the best gals in the business to help show her the ropes?” I lay it on thick and sweet, even though I know Amelia has been with her wife for longer than I’ve been alive, and she’s immune to a great deal of my usual charms.