Broken Strings

Six

Jay

Quite frankly, I didn't become an actor to become a movie star. I have never dreamed about being the most famous person on the planet. I just want to do really good work – Anne Hathaway

It was not the first time one of Jay Dawson's film shoots had gone completely off the rails and it definitely wouldn't be the last. But as Jay watched one of his co-stars, Dawn Perelli, have a screaming match with the director of The Scapegoat, he knew that things were hitting an all-time low.

God, it was a miracle that the studio hadn't pulled the film yet. Or, at the very least, a shock that they hadn't fired Dawn and ordered reshoots with a new actress. To her credit, Dawn was an excellent performer when she was sober, which wouldn't have been an issue had her sobriety not been the leading source of problems during the entirety of the shoot.

The screaming match quickly became intolerable to listen to and after a moment, the assistant director quietly informed Jay that he could head to his trailer until they were ready to resume. Not one to waste such a golden ticket opportunity, Jay nearly sprinted for the soundstage exit and headed for his trailer.

As he entered his trailer, the screaming died entirely from Jay's ears, replaced by the quiet tapping of keys on a laptop.  The door shut behind Jay and his personal assistant, Wren Garcia, glanced up from where he was sitting on the couch with a laptop balanced on his legs.

"Everything okay?" Wren asked. His dark hair was dishevelled, and not the intentional kind of dishevelment that Jay's stylist often tried to replicate on Jay's head. It was the kind that came from irritation as if he'd been constantly raking his fingers through the black wavy strands while Jay had been working.

As his assistant, Wren balanced Jay's life. Juggling his schedule and monitoring the calls and messages that were important for Jay to take while discarding those that would only waste time in both of their very busy schedules.

For some celebrities, personal assistants were more like slaves who operated at their employer's every beck and call twenty-four-seven. Most of the time it wasn't pleasant work and Jay knew of several colleagues who used their assistants in more nefarious ways, like buying drugs or sexual companions. 

It wasn't how Jay operated. He liked to see Wren more as a friend. A friend that he paid a wage to but a friend nonetheless. Wren worked mostly specified hours unless there was an event or meeting to attend outside of Jay's usual workday that required his assistance.  They'd been working together long enough now that they'd developed an easy rapport.  It helped that Wren was naturally empathetic and had an uncanny talent of knowing when to speak up and when to shut up in front of his boss.

Most of the time, it was the former.

"No, things are most definitely not okay," Jay replied. He strode for the mini-fridge and pulled out a chilled bottle of water before he slumped into a chair across from Wren. He downed half the bottle and said, "The film is a disaster."

"Was that Dawn yelling again?"

"Who else would it be?"

"I don't know. Extra number seventeen, maybe. She looked like a yeller."

Jay tried not to smile. Really tried. But Wren always knew what to say to make Jay loosen up whenever the rest of the world was threatening to cave in on him. "You're hilarious, Garcia."

Wren grinned back, a crooked thing that exposed a row of pearly white teeth that were stark against the warm pallor of his skin. "Hey, I thought about doing stand-up for a while. Then I met you and realized that my talents truly lie in digging Hollywood A-listers out of their mental spirals."