Liz C. (stageglitter) wrote in lion_lamb,
Liz C.
stageglitter
lion_lamb

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New Fic - EXPOSURE

Title: Exposure

Author: stageglitter

Rating: T for now, M later

Characters: All of our favorites that we know and love. Centered on Edward/Bella, but includes Alice and Mike, Emmett, Jasper, Rosalie, even Renee.

Category: Totally OOC, AH

Summary: Bella Swan is a production assistant on the set of her Mom’s new Hollywood blockbuster, where Edward Cullen – the newest tinsel town hottie – stars in the leading role. Edward’s too busy playing the Hollywood boy toy while he enjoys his newfound fame, and Bella can only describe him as cocky and self-absorbed. Everyone else can tell the one thing they have in common – each other. Will these two eventually give in? Inspired by the one –shot “Mr. Mason’s Assistant” by niceiceedward.

 

Prologue

Starbucks run at exactly 6:00, on-set by 6:15. Check that light and camera crews are on schedule. Script deliveries to talent trailers and production tents. Two calls to confirm craft service, one to make sure they include vegetarian options. Prep first hour director/photography meeting in the lot 2 conference trailer. Divert paparazzi. Several of them. Run reels to the production office; run reels back from the production office. Confirm location shoots in San Diego and fax the permits.  Confirm the cast has flights for promotional photo calls in New York and Boston.

And that’s all before the director arrives on location at 7:00 am.

Her first words of the day should generally involve random questions about scheduled light hang delays and reel cues; instead, she asks me whether or not I had breakfast and if I called my father for his birthday last week.

That’s because, although my job is completely ordinary for a recent film school graduate trying to make her way into the industry, every other detail of my job is out of the ordinary. I work as the production assistant for Renee Dwyer, one of the top directors and producers in Hollywood. And she also happens to be my Mom.

“Did you or did you not?” she asked curiously as we walked from her car to the studio lot. When I didn’t respond, right away, she lowered her sun glasses to catch my attention.

Honestly, I wasn’t even sure what she had asked. “What?“

“Call your father? For his birthday?”

“Mom, are you serious?” I was perplexed. This wouldn’t be happening to any other PA. Of course, the average PA would never have their mom for a boss.

“You know how he gets when you don’t call him. I’m the one who has to hear it. Apparently I deserve as much of a guilt trip for not reminding you,” Renee continued. My dad, Charlie, did become something along the lines of unbearable when a good guilt trip opportunity reared its ugly head.

“I did call,” I quickly cleared up, making a mental note about calling him later on that day.

I was still bitter that she was talking to me personally rather than about work. “And in case you were curious about a certain production you may be directing today, your photo meet is in 6 minutes, your actors have scripts, reels are cued and ready to go, craft service is including a garden burger with no mustard just for you, and your Venti Extra Hot Double Soy Chai Latte has been waiting for you on the warmer in the conference trailer for exactly an hour and four minutes.”

My mom slash boss flashed a smile and shook her head incredulously.

“I knew I hired you for a reason,“ she said. Her answer made me smile along with her.

“I’m glad to know you’re happy with me,”

“And I’m glad to know I paid for your degree so that you could fetch my coffee and fax location permit paperwork.”  

I hated when she brought that up. I’ve lost count as to how many times Renee has made reference  to the fact that my hard-earned and much boasted four-year degree, along with countless undergraduate hours of film work to prove it, is casually hanging on a wall in my apartment while I “settle” (her words, not mine) for running production errands instead of being behind a camera.

Renee developed a name for herself when I was just a kid in the early 90’s with a couple of low-budget Indies that created an unseemingly faithful phenomenon. She had recently left Charlie, a romantic stint of her early 20’s that resulted in my birth, a fairly painless divorce, and apparently a whole lot of creativity. After her passionate film-making projects got off the ground, Renee began to pick up speed – she was called on by producers from both independent and major studios with mountains of cash to produce and pocket. They showered her with countless offers for productions she just couldn’t resist, each offer bigger than the next. And Renee delivered. Soon enough, she started producing her own movies with her paycheck profits, and those undoubtedly became hits as well. My mom became the one to beat when it came to Hollywood film – and that gave her as many open doors as she wanted. Renee said “jump”; TinselTown said “how high?”

When they heard that little Isabella was following in her mother’s footsteps by accepting an offer to attend UCLAFilmSchool, they tagged me as the next big thing. Fact of the matter is my passion, although genuine, was never in directing; so I majored in cinematography – I got all of the work and none of the glory. That and I knew I was no where near as good as my mom.

Naturally enough, my sanity is being questioned by everyone I meet. Anyone with a mother like Renee Dwyer would be taking advantage of the strings that she could pull with almost everyone in the business. I could most probably be one of the privileged few to jump right onto my first set as a camera operator, and possibly work my very first Director of Photography gig by my second or third film. All I had to do was ask, except I refused to.

My mom never got a break – she had to fight dirty and make the name match the work all on her own. Renee was respected for her efforts – it was the reason why she got to go kick ass and take names with no complaints. In a sense, I was vying for the same respect.  I didn’t just want to be Bella Swan, Renee Dwyer’s overindulged, over privileged brat who had nothing but her mom’s God-like influence to thank for her success. So, against even my mom’s strongest will, I insisted on starting at the bottom. Renee obliged, of course; but only if I was under her watch – she wouldn’t let her stubborn daughter be pushed around by anyone but her.  

True, my particular PA job is less manual and more administrative than most, so I was deemed with certain benefits – benefits that, in this case, I was glad to be granted. I was never cut out for the things that your average first-time production assistant was delegated to – things that required coordination. Like power tools. I couldn’t be sure if I or anyone around me would really walk out unscathed.  

While trying to avoid another one of her attempts to convince me to let her pull strings for me, I brought her right back to the matter at hand and aimed at her interests as a director.

“And if by ‘fax location permit paperwork’, you’re asking if the San Diego permits went through, then yes,” I answered casually. I had become an expert at diverting her constant puns because I was not going to change my mind. When I gained a particular producer’s interest and peaked enough creativity in a director for them to hire me onto my first professional gig, I’ll be redeemed.

I’m okay with this – for now. Definitely not for forever. Everyone starts somewhere, even the hard-headed child of a Hollywood hot shot.

 


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