Months after I finished my first gig, I received a second gig. “Seriously?” I shrieked happily when I received a phone call from an artist’s agent. The agent paused as I recovered my professionalism. “Yes, I am interested in the job. Is there a date you have in mind?” The agent read off a date. I spent a moment calculating the schedule in my mind. “Yes, that is possible.”
A week later, with a vision in mind, I, along with a group of makeup artists, costume designers, camera men, and assistants, stood on the streets of downtown, ready to shoot a music video. “Okay,” I said to Mustache Earl, the main camera man. “Place a green screen against that wall. We will do a snapshot right now and another shot as she walks by.” He nodded and quickly directed his interns to perform those tasks. I didn’t tell him I’m planning on plastering the wall with the word “love” in post-production. No need. They will see it when the video comes out on YouTube.
After about two hours, the first shots were done. “Go get the warehouse set up for the next few shots,” I informed the team. “I’ll meet you there in about two hours.” I have some errands to run.
While everybody packed up, I got in my car and began driving around town, a Polaroid and a regular camera rested on the passenger seat. I drove fast into the suburbs, searching for the perfect locations but not before making a pit stop at the gas station and bought a dream-catcher. It’ll be pivotal for the video. As I drove through the suburbs, I began to feel disappointed because none of the houses had what I need, a wooden fence. The fences were either plastic or wrought iron. I parked the car at the corner of some street and squeezed my eyes tightly shut. “What am I going to do?” I said.
The answer came to me naturally. Of course, my parents’ house. They live about fifteen minutes away and have a wooden fence. Perfect! And didn’t I put that emerald heart-shaped gem in the fence? Even more perfect.
“Where is the director?!” I heard the singer scream as I entered the warehouse, out of breath. She was already in costume, black shorts and navy-blue t-shirt.
“I’m here.” I clapped my hands. “Are we ready to shoot this thing?” Everyone grumbled an answer. “All right. This is the beginning scene. It’s summer and you’re lying on the floor there, daydream, looking bored. Your best friend has gone away for the summer.” From my bag, I pulled out the Polaroid pictures I took and scattered onto the floor. “When I say action, heave a long sigh, full of boredom, and the music will begin. Pick up a few pictures around you and look at it but please, keep lying down.” I ran back to my chair and shouted, “Action!”
She heaved a sigh as instructed and as the music began, she stared up at the camera and mouthed the first phrase, “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” The second she finished the first verse, I yelled “Cut!” and instantaneously, the music stopped and the singer let her legs down. “That was great.” I praised the singer as Earl adjusted the camera. “For the next few shots, you’ll stand up, happily and joyfully sing the chorus and keep in mind that this is a dream.”
We wrapped the second verse and two choruses with her moving about her room, stuffing random things into her bag, and leaving. “All right,” I told the Stacy, the set designer. “Modify this for the best friend’s bedroom.” I handed her the dream-catcher. “Hang this over the bed.” She nodded and thirty minutes of moving and rearranging later, the set was done. “Okay, this is the last scene. In this scene, you’re climbing into your best friend’s bedroom through the window.” I pointed to the window. “Glance at the dream-catcher and then sit down next to the bed. Beneath the bed is a box of vinyl record. Take the records out one by one and scatter them on the floor while singing the bridge. Get emotional as you hit that last note.”
An hour and five takes later, we were at last complete. “That’s a wrap, people.” I shouted as everyone cheered. This is going to be a wonderful video.
A response for MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Writing Prompt #159