He kissed me, and I wondered how I’d lived this long so close to a friend without knowing he was really my soulmate.
We jogged back over to the set, and Jay introduced me to Guillermo. He kept saying Guillermo wanted to meet the girl that had brought him to his knees.
When I shook the director’s hand, he said, “You don’t like my lighting, I hear?”
I glared daggers at Jay and stumbled over my words as I tried to right the wrong. “I love your work. The lighting is perfect. It’s absolutely—”
“—atrocious,” he finished for me. “We’re flying back to San Francisco to film the scene again. Next time, speak up. You’ll sit by me now.”
He motioned to a crew member, and suddenly a seat stood next to his.
Jay smiled from ear to ear as we talked, then he went off to do makeup.
He filmed every shot in one take.
Guillermo mumbled to himself about the flawless performance but never once complimented the actors, the crew, or anyone.
Just before the final shot, he motioned for them to wait. He turned to me. “Camera angle and lighting good?”
I scratched a temple and realized I’d never been one to accept just good. “The audience needs to see him from her point of view in this shot. The lighting works.”
He nodded, listening closely, and then he yelled for the cameramen to do as I said.
They got the shot first take again.
When Guillermo shouted, “that’s a wrap,” and stalked off, Jay whooped in the background and everyone cheered with him.
Then he yelled for the whole film crew and most of the town to hear, “Our bet’s still on, Wrecking Ball. You’re moving in with me.”