Look, no one handed me a guide when I bonded with this kid as seventh-graders over fantasy books and became his only lifeline as he started landing increasingly major acting gigs shortly after. We kinda just clung onto each other for dear life and hoped for the best. And until this morning, I thought we’ve done pretty damn well together. Now I’m starting to wonder if these naysayers have been right all along.
Who am I kidding? Why do I think I still belong in his life? The more his life changes, the more I stay the same, the less I fit into it all.
After the first year as his assistant, I stopped placing orders in his name. The responses were either insultingly incredulous—which I can handle—or they thought it was a prank and wouldn’t deliver whatever product or service I’d ordered for him. His food, a house painter, furniture for the house, it didn’t matter the scale. When the catering for a holiday party never arrived because they thought it was a joke, well, that’s when he got me a credit card on his account in my name for buying him all his shit without the hassle.
I rarely have to drop his name anymore, but I’m honestly not sure why it’s so hard to believe when I do. We’re on a fucking production lot, for fuck’s sake. Even if we weren’t, the whole six degrees of separation thing is kinda crazy. Someone you know knows someone else who knows the singer of your favorite 80’s hair metal band, or your ex’s new Bulgarian wife, or the president of the country, or some crazy shit like that.
Not sure why it’s so hard to believe that I’m one of those links that knows AaronfuckingStone. It’s just a little thing, but it’ssomething that’s eaten at me every single time it’s come up since he’s gotten more and more famous, and it feels like it’s been slowly eroding the foundation of my self-confidence until I’m a hair’s breadth from caving in, with nothing left to support me in place. One or two more hits to my ego, my certainty of belonging in this man’s life, and I’ll crumble.
It’s—he’s—all I’ve built my world around. If I don’t belong in his life…if I’m not his best friend, his assistant, his everything, who even am I?
I let out a sigh and tap my foot, waiting for the teenager who’s currently texting to finish their very important conversation. Or maybe stop scrolling through TikTok? Hard to tell from this angle, but I’d really like them to finish up this smoothie right about now.
The teenager eventually remembers they have a job to do, and they turn the blender on, letting the green drink take shape.
A few more rudely impatient taps of my foot later, and I remind myself to calm down. It’s not like I’m in a hurry. I certainly don’t want to run into Aaron when I drop his afternoon shake off in his trailer. Checking the time on my phone, I realize he’s not due out of the shot they’re working on for another forty minutes.I’ve got time. Don’t be a fucking heifer to this worker. You can do it, Gemma.My bad mood isn’t this guy’s fault. But, on second thought, would it kill him to pay attention?
A new text comes in just as I’m slipping my phone into my back pocket, so I pull it back out to see a message from Alex, the sometimes assistant to the director, sometimes the right hand of the production manager, and absolute lifesaver of the line producer. Basically, a lot of the key crew would be fucked without her saving their asses.
Alexandra the Great
You around?
Me
Be back in less than twenty, what do you need?
The boss wants to swap around this afternoon’s sequence. Can you make sure he’s ready for 418-62 by 4? You’re a real gem ??
A snort comes out at her very unoriginal joke, but she makes herself laugh with it, and it’s hard not to love her. I triple check the time, and I’m confident that prepping him for that scene should be no problem.
On it
Wanna grab a coffee once they’re underway?
Grab a coffeeis her code forshoot the shit. She must have some tea for me.
After reacting to her message with a thumbs-up, I pocket my phone and, thank the good Lord above, his majesty’s green gooey protein smoothie is finally ready. A mental slap in the face reminds me to try to be kinder, not to take my newfound irritation out on people who don’t deserve it. I put a pin in my aggression, shelving it for the one person on this planet who does deserve it right now.
A review of how prepared he is versus how prepared he should be for scene sixty-two keeps me busy as I make my way back to the soundstage, and by the time I leave his smoothie on the small desk in his trailer, a flavored Pellegrino out and ready for him next to it, I know I need a better plan in place for being face to face with him andnotturning into a tomato. He’s going towant to run lines with me, because he didn’t think he was filming that scene until tomorrow, and he’s not ready yet.
Unfortunately for me, before I can come up with one, the trailer door blows open, and he steamrolls in like he owns the joint. Well, I guess he kinda does, but whatever. So much for avoiding the kid all day.
Doesevery actor on set have an assistant? Most of the bigger ones do, yeah. Does Alex like any of the others? Not so much.
I try to keep my grin to a minimum, but sometimes I feel a hint of self-satisfaction at how good I am at my job. The fact that she insists on working with me when she won’t deal with any of the other assistants drives that point home pretty damn clearly. On a day where my self-confidence has taken a big hit? I’m relishing in anything I can right now.
It’s now seven minutes past four, my actor was drilled within an iota of his lung capacity on his lines and was to the right soundstage two minutes early. Because Alex is amazing, so were the rest of the cast, despite the last-minute change of plans. Now the shot is underway, her presence (temporarily) no longer needed, and she and I are sneaking out the backlot to go to one of our favorite hangout spots for times like this. When everything on set is rolling smoothly, she and I can kill some time together. She’s probably the closest thing to a friend I’ve made in the three seasons Aaron’s been on the show, and I wish we spent more time together, because she isgoals. When I grow up, I wanna be Alex, that’s for sure.
“I heard your boy is getting serious with that Instagram model.” She starts off strong, going right for the jugular. Guessthe cat’s out of the bag. Alex doesn’t beat around the bush too often, either, and she’s not cutting me any slack today.
That bitter part of me—abnormally active today—wonders if I’m the only one in this town who was unaware that the love of my life has fallen for someone else.
My throat seems to have closed of its own volition, and I struggle to remind the muscles how to move and create sound. “Mmm,” is what comes out.Slack ass throat. That didn’t even involve you.
Her dark eyes have stayed trained on me as I’ve battled with my own vocal cords, and I’m pretty sure she’s seen everything she was looking for with that little ambush of hers.Clever bitch.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I manage to get out, a little quieter than I’d hoped to sound.
