June thought that climbing the stairs to the old apartment was the easy part as she glanced at the cracked, plain cream walls covered in dirty marks. The black metal handrail was cold to the touch, and she looked at John and asked, "Are you sure that the director lives here?"
"This was the address that I found, but I made sure to bring pepper spray with me, just in case," John replied, and she could hear the slight tremble in his voice. She sighed, she carried one in her purse as well, but she had expected John to at least verify and have come here once before. "Also, don't take his appearance too seriously. He is going through a rough phase, divorce, and on top of that, he is finally getting out of his habit of making festival films and entering the commercial market. He may be a little too focused on his work, so he may come off as a bit rude."
'Great', she thought internally.
"Alright, but please tell me you have already met the man, at least once." She asked.
When she got no reply, she looked incredulously at her agent and sighed but continued walking up the stairs anyway.
Her steps came to a halt when she reached the door, labelled 301, and pressed the doorbell.
When nothing happened, she went to press the bell again, and then she realized that it made no noise. So, sighing to herself, she loudly knocked on the door.
She heard a faint yell of "It's open" coming from the inside, and she looked incredulously at her agent.
Shaking her head, she subtly rechecked her purse for the pepper spray and pushed the door open.
The creaking noise that it made was not a welcoming sound to June, and she clutched the Pepper spray tighter in her hands.
Once the door was open, June saw that the inside of the apartment was as dirty as the outside. There were sheets of paper strewn about everywhere, a half-eaten pizza on the stool near the couch, the cabinet by the couch was broken, and some books were hanging out, threatening to fall. It seemed that there was only a studio apartment, as the room didn't lead into any other rooms which could have been inside.
On the couch sat a haggard old man who looked like he hadn't slept for days. He was bald, and his white-grey hair gave away his age. He was wearing a simple grey t-shirt and pyjamas, and he was looking at June and her agent with a little bit of confusion before he clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"June Roberts? I totally forgot that you and your agent were going to be coming here today. I am sorry about the mess. I don't exactly have the money to hire cleaners anymore, and I was way too busy to do it myself. Please, just wait a minute, I will clear out some chairs, and we will get on with reading the script that I have prepared." He said, getting up and opening the lower drawers of the cabinet by the couch. He pulled out two foldable chairs, placed them in front of both June and John, and sat back down on the couch.
"Uhm, Are you James Cameron?" John asked finally, breaking out of his stupor and trying to make sense of the situation.
The old man confusedly looked back from the papers that he was searching through. "What? Of course, I am James Cameron; who else would I be?" he asked rhetorically.
June was already nursing a headache and said, "Sir, are you James Cameron, the man known worldwide for his film festival entries? That James Cameron?"
"How many James Camerons do you know? Look, I don't have time for this; I will give you the script, and you can go over it right now or take it with you home. I want to know what you think, max by three days." He said irritably, handing her a large stack of paper.
Looking at the script's title, she read 'The Terminator'.
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"Your role, if you accept it, would be of Sarah Connor." The old director explained.
***
"Cut, Leo, I need to be able to see the internal conflict in your character. You need to doubt yourself. I don't want you looking as if you are deciding whether you are rethinking about the type of Pizza you ordered." Will exclaimed when he had to stop the filming for yet another bad take by Leo.
Leo had been giving a lot of bad takes, as he couldn't correctly capture the emotion of insecurity and uncertainty that a person would feel when he is embroiled in the life of a gangster.
"Take a break for a moment, Leo. We will retake the scene again, let's say, in half an hour. Robert, why don't you help him a little while I go get some fresh air outside." Will said as he looked pleadingly at Robert.
Robert, still in his Gangster get up, looked at his pocket watch and chuckled. Then, he waved Will off and reassured, "Don't worry, I've got him."
Will walked off the set, and Robert looked at Leo, who seemed a bit down due to his recent streak of failure.
"Hey, none of that. I don't want to see you looking like Teen-angst over here. Every good actor has their moments, and trust me, when I was filming [Sherlock Holmes], I screwed the pooch many times. It happens; all you need is to rethink the character a little and get your head off the shooting for a while. Want to get coffee outside? We will be back in fifteen minutes." Robert offered.
Leo nodded slightly and sighed, "Yeah, I think coffee would be good." He said.
"All right, let's go, sour patch," Robert said as he led Leo to the room's exit and the coffee house that served in the building.
"Sourpatch?" Leo asked as he walked in step.
"What? Don't like it? You were being all mopey over here, really soured the mood a little, so you're sourpatch." Robert explained.
Leo cringed slightly and shook his head a little.
"I have better nicknames if you don't like that one. How's Meryl Streep? No? Ooh! I know one, from now on, you're "Sir Lawrence Olivier, the third"!" Robert exclaimed as he mock knighted Leo while walking backwards to the shop.
"Why the third?" Leo asked curiously.
"I really liked Richard III, and I thought it sounded nice," Robert explained, shrugging his shoulders.
Leo laughed a little, his previous gloomy attitude all but forgotten.
They reached the bartender inside the coffee shop, and Robert ordered two cups of coffee for them.
"That should help you get right back in the game, it's not too bitter, and neither is it too sweet. It will help you focus again." He said, handing Leo the cup of piping hot coffee.
They drank their coffee in companionable silence as Robert let Leo relax a little and get his mind back in the game. After about five minutes, he broke the silence. "Come on, let's go, Sir Lawrence Olivier The Third. We should head back; I will help you rehearse a little and let us see if we can't get the shot down."
Leo nodded and followed Robert back to the set after downing the last of his coffee.
As soon as he was back on the set, Leo and Robert motioned him to try again.
Leo took the prop pistol, and he kept it by his hip for the moment. He walked toward the car that they had set up and faced the extra actors that were helping him rehearse.
"Don't point that gun at me, man. Don't point that gun at me." Leo said as he assumed the character of Mario again. He could see the man on top of the car fiddling with the bolt action of the gun he had brought. "Come on, man. We've fought side by side, don't make me do this. I-I don't want to have to do this. Man!"
He could see that the man fumbled with the bullet that had fallen out of the chamber, and he tried pleading once again. "Please, don't do this!"
The man finally reloaded the bullet into the chamber. As he went to take aim, Mario unloaded his pistol into the man, followed by shooting the other two men in the car, hesitating only slightly.
He kept staring at the car for over five seconds and then threw the gun at the sidewalk as he screamed in rage, and he fell to his knees. He kept sobbing for what could have been an eternity.
"You see, that's what Will wants in the shot. I think that was perfect." Robert commented from the side.
"It was." Will's voice echoed in the room, and Leo turned to look at him. "That was perfect. Let's get the cameras rolling! Jeffery!"
Leo gave perfect shots for the rest of the day, and the filming picked up with extreme fervour.