I bet Mary Harron didn't have these problems on-set.

Then again, I doubt she ever worked with a group of cheap amateurs.

I'd called just about everyone I could think of from Hollywood Arts to help me crew this short. I advertised on a few reputable crew job websites. I had pieced together what seemed like a pretty solid group, on paper.

Until none of them showed up.

I tried to call them. Most of them didn't answer. No one replied to my voicemails. I was irate. Who the hell commits to doing something and then just decides, y'know what, I don't need to bother showing up for that. And not just one. No, all six.

All. Six.

I vowed that if I ever happened to cross paths with any of these flakes on the street, they would not forget the encounter. And they'd think twice about standing up anyone else.

But vows of future violence, relaxing though they were, would not help me get my film off the ground. There was no one else to call, unfortunately. Anyone respectable would want money (as they should), but I had nothing left in my bank account. When my mom kicked me out, she also stopped with the monthly allowances. So all that money I had to burn at the end of my senior year—buying Cat her dress, flying us all to New York—was long gone. My dad was no help either. And I had pulled out everything I'd saved up from work to be able to at least provide food and snacks for my cast and crew for the next two weeks.

In short: I had no money, no time, and no crew. So I did something I never, ever wanted to do. I used someone's crush on me to get them to come help me out.

Sinjin Van Cleef was a weirdo. He made regular weirdos seem almost normal. Dude was tall, skinny, almost bird-like. He was also kind of a creeper, one of those guys who'd get real close to you just to sniff your hair. I had the displeasure of experiencing that a lot back in school. I hated it, and really didn't like Sinjin much, but I was that desperate. I called him and he was at our shooting location within an hour. He had his own gear and knew it inside and out, so if nothing else I had someone at least a little reliable on my camera.

He brought his oddball friend Burf to help out.

If Sinjin made regular weirdos seem normal, Burf made Sinjin seem normal. I really can't say anything else about the guy. Sinjin had him running sound. And by "running sound" I mean dropping the boom into every. Single. Shot.

"Cut! Again! Burf, I swear to chrysler, if you drop the mic into the shot one more time I'm going to replace you with a tripod and a boom arm!"

"We can do that?" he asked with far more enthusiasm than he'd shown in the past six hours. "Why didn't we just do that in the first place?"

I felt my cheeks start to burn, again.

"Why didn't…are you…because a tripod can't press record you… Y'know what, screw it, that's lunch. Be back in an hour!"

Burf dropped the boom pole and tried to run off, forgetting that he was wearing the audio recorder harness. The boom pole lurched along behind him, dragged by the $80 XLR cable. I had never actually been so close to beating someone within an inch of their life as I was at that moment. And that includes the skank who tried hitting on Beck at Karaoke Dokie.

"Sinjin!"

He had already seen Burf's mistake and was on his way to get the boom. "On it, boss!"

I balled my firsts up for the hundredth time and dung my nails into the palms of my hand. It took everything I had not to explode and start smashing the equipment. Then I'd have been famous for very different reasons.

It was six hours into the shoot day, and we'd been shooting for maybe three of those hours, thanks to the crew canceling on me. I was scrambling to make shot lists on the fly based on the notes I'd sent to my 1st AD, one of the losers who didn't show up. The 1st AD is supposed to keep the crew on track throughout the day using a shot list and schedule. But they didn't send me any of that before they bailed, so it was up to me to cobble it together.

At least we were in a decent neighborhood. My old teacher, Erwin Sikowitz, had recommended his friend's house for the exterior of Sara's house. Since it was a beautiful day, that was the first scene on the schedule. Well, one of the schedules. Since you can never be sure what the weather's going to do, you always try to get the outside stuff done first, but you have to be ready with a backup interior location in case of bad weather or smog or whatever. For the most part, it wasn't an issue in LA; I mean, that's why Hollywood is where it is. Bad weather is pretty rare. But I was running as close to a professional production as I could. I had to. I needed to prove to Liz I could do it.

In case you've been napping so far, the day wasn't off to a good start.

Tori was still on her mark in the middle of the driveway. She offered me an encouraging smile. There was something very sweet and genuine about it, and I felt some of the tension start to loosen. It was weird. Usually, Beck was the only one who could do that.

I almost smiled back, but when I made the connection between her smile and Beck, a fresh wave of frustration washed over me. Instead, I stormed off, away from the set. I needed to walk.

I regretted how I handled things the previous night with Tori. I'd been needlessly mean. Some people would say that's normal for me, perfectly in character. They'd be right. But that wasn't something I could be if I wanted this film to be successful. I knew that going in, which is why I didn't want to involve Tori in the first place. She always complicated things.

I'd gone home so worked up, I could barely think straight. I stood in the shower under cold water for fifteen minutes. My lips were almost blue by the time I was done. Do you think it helped? Would I even ask you that if it did?

I tried to call Beck, but he was already asleep. Stupid time difference.

So I crawled into bed and tried to doze. My brain refused to settle down. So, much as I didn't want to, I tried to work out my frustrations single-handedly. Well…not literally. Both hands were involved. And every time I finally got into a groove, every time I felt like I was moving toward some relief, something would draw my attention and I'd completely lose it. My dad came home. Then his wife came home. Then they were watching some stupid comedy and she had the most obnoxious laugh. Nothing kills an orgasmic buildup faster than suddenly hearing Fran Drescher's spirit animal cackling like a hyena down the hall.

Even after they quieted down, I just couldn't make it happen. My brain kept flashing back to Tori; seeing her for the first time at the airport, dragging me up on stage with her, pressing up against her. I tried to purge those images from my mind. I needed some release, but I didn't want it to be Tori's face in my mind when it happened.

Or maybe it was worse than that. Maybe I did want it to be Tori's face in my mind when it happened.

Either way, after an hour of effort, I was more frustrated than ever. I gave up and tried to sleep again. It worked about as well as it did the first time.

I ended up watching The Scissoring on my phone. That, finally, was the thing that calmed me down enough to sleep.

I woke up to a text from Tori at 6:00 AM asking me for the address. She apologized for bothering me so early and mentioned that she tried to ask me about it as I drove off the previous night. So my first conscious thought of the day was about how terribly last night had ended. That set the tone.

Aside from an awkward "good morning," Tori and I didn't speak much on the way to the set. Once we got there, and I ranted and raged over all the worthless no-shows, I explained to everyone the modified game plan for the day. Tori tried to ask a few questions about the character, but I didn't respond with much. I told her I trusted her to know the character well enough to make the decision she thought was right.

Then, I cut after the first take (which, you'll recall, was three hours behind schedule) and told her she did it all wrong and it should have been handled differently. She responded that she tried to discuss it with me first but I refused to talk to her.

It got worse from there, but I'll spare you those details. Let's just say that after all that effort, we'd gotten through maybe three setups. The schedule called for seven total, so we had a lot of ground to cover after lunch. It was November, after all, and even though the weather was still beautiful in California, the sunset was still coming hours sooner than it would have over the summer.

My ringtone went off. Liz was calling.

Shit. Why now?

I put on my best bullshit face. Even though she wouldn't be able to see me, she struck me as the kind of woman who could still tell from the tone of your voice what your face was doing.

"Hey, Liz!"

"Jade! How's your first day going? Hope I didn't interrupt a take."

I forced a laugh. It felt weird and gross. "No, I just called lunch a few minutes ago. As for how it's going…" I tried my best to put a spit shine on what was a pretty terrible day so far. "It's coming together. The crew's starting to gel. Still on schedule."

"Good, good," she said. "Any big scenes today?"

"On day one? No. We're knocking out some of the exteriors at Sara's house. Didn't want to put too much weight up front while everyone's still learning how to work with each other."

Liz was silent. I swallowed hard and hoped the bile I felt churning down below stayed where it was.

"That's smart scheduling," Liz said at last. "Sounds like you know what you're doing. Listen I hope you don't mind but I'd love to stop over and see you in action today. Would that be all right?"

No. No, no, no, no, no, no no! For the love of Jerry Chrysler, no! "That sounds awesome, I'd love for you to come by."

"Great. Keep at it! You're my gal. Er…woman. Or whatever you prefer. You're her! Text me the address and I'll be there in a few hours."

"You got it. See you soon!"

The call ended. I took a deep breath to try and calm down. It didn't work.

"Fuck," I muttered. "Fuck. Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!"

"Are you okay?"

"Fuck!" I spun around. Tori stood behind me. She kept a safe distance, as if she were scared I might have swung at her. Honestly, at that moment, it was probably a good call. But behind a very superficial look of fear, I saw genuine concern in those dark brown eyes.

"That's seven. Wanna go for eight and make it even?" I could tell from her tone and her smile she was trying to be funny. But she was concerned, and she had risked injury to come talk to me. It was at once comforting and infuriating. Comforting because…well I guess because it let me know she gave a damn about the production, at least. But that she knew me so well to come try to talk when I was upset left me feeling naked and vulnerable, and I hated feeling naked and vulnerable in front of her. I had let it happen too many times over the years.

"What do you want?"

"To check on you. You seem really stressed."

"I'm fine," I snapped. "It's not your job to check up on me."

"I know," she said. "I'm not here because it's my job. I'm here because…"

Her voice trailed off. I glared at her, waiting for her to finish her sentence. She seemed to withdraw into herself a little under my scrutiny.

"I'm here because I want to help. I want this movie to be a success."

"And you think I need you for that?"

She sighed. "No, Jade. That's not what I mean. I mean yes, you need me to be in it, or else you wouldn't have asked me. But I want it to succeed for your sake. I love acting but music is really my passion so if this didn't work out, it's okay for me. But this is a big chance for you and I want to help make it happen for you ."

"Why?"

She faltered. "Why does it matter? Look we both know you don't need me. But you have me. I'm here, and I want to help. Whatever that looks like. Whatever form it takes."

A thick fog seemed to settle over my head. You don't need me, she had said. And I hated myself for wondering how untrue that statement was.

"Liz is coming," I said. "She'll be here this afternoon. And she's going to see that no one showed up. She's going to see that I can't do this, and she's going to send me packing."

"No, she won't."

"You don't know that."

"No, but I know you can do this. Jade, you're the toughest, most talented woman I know. Your vision for this movie is so strong. Liz isn't coming to judge you for having the right size crew or running a flawless shoot, she's coming because you blew her away with your other work and she wants to see you in action. This is your set. You run the show. And I know you're not going to let a bunch of losers who didn't show up shake you. And you're not going to let some producer throw you off either. You're Jade fucking West and this is your movie."

I struggled to process everything Tori said. It was the first time I'd ever heard her drop an f-bomb, and she did it with such passion and conviction and determination, I was stunned into silence. I wanted to hug her for sure. I'm pretty sure there was a whole list of other things I wanted to do to her after that, though it may have just been the whole "innocent girl drops an f-bomb" trope getting me excited.

The longer the silent glare went on, the more Tori seemed to shrink back into herself.

"So…am I fired? Jade? Say something."

I let the silence hang there as I drew in a slow breath. "I don't think there will ever come a day where I can say this without a stomach ache. But you're right. And I needed to hear it."

"Don't worry," Tori said, her effortless smile returning. "I won't tell anyone you admitted that."

"Good, because if you did, you really would be fired. I'm going to take a walk and try to figure this out. You should head back."

"Okay. Enjoy your walk."

Tori turned, and so help me, I didn't want her to go. The idea of her not standing there felt…wrong. Before I could stop myself, I called, "Hey, Vega." She turned back. I stumbled over words that wouldn't come out. "You…you've done good today," I said at last. "I mean it's been mostly easy scenes, but your performances…you're kicking ass."

She smiled silently, then turned and walked back to the set.