Chapter 10: Stumbles and Strides
Wayne sat beside Naomi beneath the umbrella, sipping his coffee while watching the hurried crowd on the sidewalk. In efficiency-driven Hollywood, the ones rushing were usually industry professionals; the ones who wandered slowly were mostly tourists.
"Let's head back, Wayne. I believe one day, my name will be etched here too. And I'll be living up in Beverly Hills."
Naomi gazed off toward the hills, then gently pulled Wayne up and started walking home. He drove them back, occasionally glancing at the woman who had suddenly gone quiet.
Maybe it was dreams like these that kept her going. There was no denying that everyone in this city was chasing fame and fortune—but anyone who could endure the grind deserved respect. After all, he was one of them.
The short break came to an end. Wayne declined Naomi's invitation to visit her apartment and returned to his own. Bathed in the soft October sunlight of California, he picked up his pencil.
Two days passed in the blink of an eye. He stayed home, quietly sketching out storyboards and refining the shoot schedule. The plan was more of a guideline—no one could guarantee they'd finish everything in a day, or that some scenes wouldn't wrap ahead of time. He just needed a working framework.
November 1st, 8 a.m.
Wayne drove his pickup truck, followed by the film crew, packed vans of equipment, and prop trucks, all headed toward the on-location set: Vincent High School in Orange County, Los Angeles.
Luke had already driven ahead to finalize contracts at the hotel and handle preliminary coordination at the school. By the time Wayne led the convoy through the gates, it was nearly 10 a.m.
Thankfully, the necessary filming areas had been cleared out in advance. A few curious students lingered in the distance, watching the crew set up lights, props, and scenery.
Wayne stepped out and walked the stretch of road from the dorms to the school gate—this would be the first scene they filmed. It was a simple one, chosen intentionally to help the crew warm up.
He watched Naomi get a light touch of makeup, then received OK signals from the lighting team, set crew, and Luke. Satisfied, he adjusted the monitor and stepped up to the camera himself.
Wayne was the film's director and lead cinematographer—he hadn't hired a separate cameraman. He was more than capable.
After a few tweaks, he walked over to a slightly nervous Naomi and gave her a few pointers.
"Naomi, we'll do a test run first. No pressure. This scene's simple—just walk out of the dorm, observe your classmates, and react naturally. Don't overdo it, especially when you notice the classmate fainting. Keep it subtle, believable, okay?"
Naomi ran a hand through her hair and nodded confidently.
"Got it. I can handle this."
Satisfied, Wayne returned behind the camera, ready to follow her movements.
"Scene One, Take One, rehearsal—action!"
Naomi emerged from the dorm, glancing around with subtle confusion. But she'd only taken a few steps before Wayne called out sharply:
"Cut!"
He strode over to the puzzled Naomi and gave detailed feedback:
"Naomi, your facial expressions—be mindful. You're not a background extra. You're the lead! The camera will be zoomed in on your face the entire time. Don't overact—make it natural."
Naomi, slightly flustered, asked, "Sorry… what should I do instead? If I don't show it on my face, how do I express that lost feeling?"
Wayne gently tapped her forehead with his index finger.
"You're a film actress. Use your eyes. Use your gaze. Don't tell me you don't understand that."
Turning back to the crew, he shouted:
"Reset! Everyone back to starting positions. Luke, guide the extras back to their marks. Let's try again."
Take two began—better than the first. Naomi had improved. Still not perfect, but clearly progressing. They reset and went into take three.
This time, it flowed beautifully. From Naomi to the extras, everything clicked. Wayne decided to move straight into the actual filming.
"Everyone reset. Let's go for the real take. Lily, touch up Naomi's makeup. This is the official shot!"
Wayne adjusted the camera. When Naomi gave the signal she was ready, he glanced at the lighting tech—got a nod—and gave the command.
"Scene One, Shot One—action!"
Naomi had barely taken two steps when Wayne called:
"Cut!"
This time, he didn't go to the actress. He marched directly to Steve, the lighting tech.
"Steve, brighten the lights slightly. The background's too dark. I need it sunny and cheerful when the heroine steps out, so we can contrast that with the gloom that follows."
"Got it," Steve nodded.
Filming resumed. The students who had initially gathered to watch started drifting away, realizing how tedious and repetitive movie-making could be.
"Scene One, Shot One, Take Two—action!"
With the clack of the slate, the entire team moved into motion for another pass. Everything was going smoothly—until just before the scene wrapped, Wayne shouted again:
"Luke! Luke, go tell the fainting kid what 'fainting' means! And tell him not to look at the camera. Fainting means closing his damn eyes, not staring around like a curious puppy!"
The interruption was frustrating. They'd been so close. But the background actor had ruined the take.
Wayne's irritation was mounting. He barely contained his temper.
Another reset. Another makeup touch-up. Another take.
This time, the lighting was off—clear fluctuations on camera. A careless error, and Wayne was furious.
Reset again. And again. Now the extras were messing up—stepping into the shot, staring at the camera, missing marks.
Again.
By now, Naomi's focus was beginning to fray, her confidence shaken by all the interruptions. Just as Wayne felt his anger surge to the boiling point, he finally barked:
"Take a break!"
Seated in the director's chair behind the monitor, Wayne lit a cigarette, doing his best to rein in the growing fire inside him. He knew deep down—these kinds of chaotic mistakes were inevitable with a brand-new crew. They hadn't worked together before; there was bound to be miscommunication and errors that bordered on brain-dead.
Everyone in the crew needed time to get into rhythm, to develop chemistry. But still, he couldn't completely smother his frustration. At that moment, he finally understood why so many directors were infamous for their tempers.
Calling for a break wasn't just for the crew—it was for himself too. Everyone needed a moment to breathe, to shake off the stress. He knew losing his temper wouldn't fix anything. It would only sour the atmosphere further.
By the time he stubbed out his cigarette and checked his watch, it was already past noon. He stood, walked over to the camera, and scanned the crew. When he saw everyone give the ready signal, he turned to Naomi and gave her a small nod.
"Scene One, Shot One—Take 19—action!"
Naomi walked out of the dorm building again, and everyone moved in sync behind her for this simple tracking shot. Maybe it was the break, maybe hunger had sharpened their focus—but to Wayne's surprise, it all went smoothly. Ironically, he'd prepared to spend the entire day on just this one shot.
"Okay. That's a wrap for this one. Everyone take five—lunch break!"
All eyes turned to Wayne behind the monitor. Only when he finally gave the nod of approval did everyone let out a collective sigh of relief.
Wayne accepted a burger from Luke and began reviewing the latest footage while munching. He shook his head—what a rough start. A ten-second shot had taken half a day. Clearly, the schedule needed reworking.
He flipped open his director's notebook, ready to make adjustments, when someone sat down beside him and handed him a cup of coffee.
It was only after taking the paper cup that he realized—it was Uma Thurman. She didn't have any scenes today, but she'd been sitting nearby the entire morning, quietly observing without leaving.
"Wayne," Uma said, once he took a sip, "you know, earlier you looked like you were about to explode. Everyone thought you'd go full blow-dryer rage mode. But you held it together and stayed focused. I've worked with a lot of directors—very few can do that. You handled it like a pro."
She smiled and settled into the seat beside him.
Wayne glanced at her and replied calmly, "Losing my temper wouldn't fix anything. It'd just make everyone more anxious. I'm the producer and director here—everyone's watching me. If I fall apart, I'll just make their jobs harder."
Uma raised an eyebrow. She'd seen directors force themselves to bottle up emotion before—but usually, they were big-name veterans. Wayne's ability to rein himself in caught her attention. But of course, coffee wasn't the only reason she was here.
"Wayne, I get how much pressure you're under. How about a drink tonight? Just to unwind a little."
As she spoke, Uma casually set her own coffee down and playfully traced her fingernail across the back of his hand.
Before Wayne could even respond, someone else sat down beside him.
"Sorry, Miss Thurman," Naomi said coldly, "but Wayne's already having dinner with me tonight. If it's something important, maybe try another day."
Uma turned her head. The two women locked eyes.
Wayne didn't even need to guess—he could feel the tension. The unspoken "bitch" in their glares might as well have been shouted.
He gave Uma a polite but final response: "Uma, I've got to revise the shoot plan tonight and prep for tomorrow. There's a lot of work left. Rain check."
Before she could reply, Wayne got up and walked over to Steve to go over lighting adjustments.
Steve had quickly become one of Wayne's most trusted crew members. He was probably the least approachable person on set, but his skills were top-tier. He could nail exactly the vibe Wayne wanted without needing much direction.
Just then, Luke came rushing over, speaking in a low voice:
"You might want to check things out over there. Ross, your props guy, just got into it with Mia from the set design team."
Wayne groaned internally. His head was already starting to throb.
"Do you know what happened?" he asked under his breath. "They wouldn't just blow up for no reason."
"Well… their roles kinda overlap. But it started when Ross sat in Mia's chair. Then… things escalated."
It sounded ridiculous—but Wayne had a feeling it was entirely possible. As he walked toward the two of them, he braced himself for the next fire to put out.