His Majesty, the King of Baritaria (tzarohell) wrote in hollywood_13,
His Majesty, the King of Baritaria
tzarohell
hollywood_13

Davenport

Mr. Davenport tallied the cast and crew as the arrived for shooting. This was a day for the cast to become familiar with the story, eachother, and their roles. The film stock would be used to see how the actors should be lit and made up for maximum attractiveness. They were waiting on the second female lead, Mille Baxter. Again. Without so much as cursing under his breath, Davenport left his seat by the camera and ducked behind the set to fetch her. She'd been busy "fixing" what the hair and makeup artists had done to her.
It was pitch black behind the monster house sets, but Davenport had worked in this studio long enough to know hi way around it in the dark.
A shoe knocked against his shoulder.

-----

"Everyone can go home, the shooting is being cancelled. Don't wander around, just go home. Have a good weekend, we'll continue as planned on Monday." Davenport gathered up his things, and looked about for a messenger. The post boy, he'd do. The boy had come by to make his morning rounds. Davenport grabbed him as he was leaving, and said in a low but authoritative voice,
"Wait 15 minutes, then call the police. Tell them there's been an accident."
He adjusted his sunglasses and turned to the bewildered cast and crew. He had to get them out so none of them would get tangled up in it. It could slow down progress if any of them were needlessly upset. They'd read about it in tomorrow's paper, and if Davenport had any luck at all, they'd have a replacement by Monday.

"Did you hear me? Go home, I'm closing down the set."
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"What?" This was certainly unexpected, not to mention annoying, a whole day she thought would be spent doing film and now, suddenly nothing. Now she'd have to find something to occupy herself with the whole day or surely she'd go mad. Housework was out, it was only decorating she did really, and the two weeks since the house was finished had been plenty of time to get everything exactly the way she wanted, and she had a maid for everything else. Finding the perfect place for Madeleine was essential of course, but certainly wouldn't take more than half an hour. Suddenly she knew, she had yet to get to show off her perfect house to anyone, and now she had plenty of time to throw a party!

"Hey everybody! Party at my place at 9 tonight for anyone who wants! Now that we wont be worked half to death." And with that she left the studio to make perparations, fully expecting anybody who was anybody to know where her house was, as both the architechture and the cost of building it had been the talk of the community for months.
"Hello Police?

....

Hi theres been an accident here at studio 13.

....

No I'm not sure what the nature of the accident was but Mr Davenport told me to call and is shutting down the studio so it must be pretty serious for him to waste a day sho...

No I swear I'm not wasting your time! Please just send someone, anyone! I sound calm because I don't know whats happened I was just told to report an accident!

....

Okay, 20 minutes? I'll let Mr Davenport know. Thanks"

Stephen went back to Davenport and asked, "I've called the police, they'll be 20 minutes... whats happened? Is it something serious? Are you okay?"
"Twenty minutes?" Davenport considered the situation breifly. "Yeah, she can wait." He plucked his cigarette case out of his jacket and lip up, hoping it would somehow clear his nausia. He'd spend the rest of the week trying to clear the feeling of being kicked by a tempermental post-mortem actress from his memory. "Don't worry yourself about it.. just don't go behind the set any." He pressed a dime into Stephen's hand.
"No!" Murdock's voice cut right into the generally confused situation. "You can't just cancel everything right now! There's so much to do and we haven't even started yet."
He crossed his arms, shook his head and looked at Davenport in a not very friendly manner.
"No, I don't see why we should possibly break things off here just now."
Davenport became increasingly distressed, and rubbed his forehead. First, in reaction to Lara deciding to throw a *party*.. secondly to Mr. Murdock's understandable objection to the cancellation.
"Listen.. Mr. Murdock," Davenport called all of his diplomatic powers to him, even the ones he used to talk to the tempermental studio heads. "Usually I wouln't dream of stepping on your toes, but.." he lowered his voice to the same stern and conspiratorial tone he'd used on the post boy. "Apparently your second female lead has decided life's not worth living.. and she did it behind this backdrop," he explained, pointing.
Murdock shot a quick look at the backdrop and then looked at Davenport again.
"That is... That is inconvenient." He didn't seem to be particularly shocked, more contemplative, as if he was thinking about what consequences this would have in the long run.
He then hung his head, right hand covering one eye and cheek, sighed and added in a slightly resentful tone: "That means we will need a new actress.... And that will cause just more delay."
"I'm sorry." It really hit him, then, how committed Murdock was, and how important this picture was to him, at the exclusion of all else. "Don't worry about it. I'll find a girl by Monday. If I have to go to a diner I'll find a girl." That was his job, after all. Sure, all of the girls in his files were busy, much too busy to fill in at the last moment.. but he would find a girl.
Davenport felt suddenly very ill. Due to the kicking corpse, the sudden responsibility, and now the pressure of finding a new actress in a manner of hours felt him feeling like he had two distinct choiced: to faint, or to be sick.
"I'll see you on Monday," he added hastilly to Murdock, before turning and rushing to the nearest foor for some fresh air.
The twins looked at the general confusion going on and the imminent fight between Daven and Murdock.

"Wonder what happened?"

"Who knows. Day off though."
she had found the studio at last but thought it rude to enter and disturb whatever important business she was sure they were doing- however, never being inside such a place she could not imagine the main business that went on in there was purely quarrelling between the actors or crew, which was in no means to say that they were neglegent in their duties- whatever they may be, but purely that this was a world of tension. As she waited outside the studio she saw numerous people- Beautiful people, starting to ajourn for the day, Including a young post boy, who she thought may actually BE a postboy and not an actor as no one else loooked ro be in costume. Ribbon, having seen only one film, and nevefr being near a place like this was of course uncertain still about things such as these.

"Excuse me? do you REALLY deliver the post? I am trying to find a Mr. davenport as this letter, which is to him is of the greatest importance to me--- the bearer and see? it says no one else can deliver it!"

Feeling quite shy now as she has seen this young fellow up close--- she adds...

"but- were someone else to deliver it, i am sure that you would be the most capable authority in such a matter... Mr ummm?" She questioned blushhing wildly.
"Oh uh... Hi miss, yeah thats what us postboys do. I'm done for the day though. You definitely won't be able to give it to him yourself, actually how did you even get up this close to the studio? Only really staff and actors are really allowed.... anyway if you want to give it to me I could give it to him tomorrow or knock on that door and leave it with the guys who sort through the post. Either way theres no way it'll get to Davenport today, theres not really many people still about and I think he has gone home."

Stephen looked impatiently at the girl opposite him, annoyed about earlier events and eager to get home.
"I'm really sorry if I bothered you. I was just trying to..... well- can i at least have your name so I can say that you told me who to give it to? Please?"she pleaded, looking very discouraged with large tearing eyes.
her charming features seemed to work a lot less on this postboy than it did on the people she was used to. However it was certain that he was more enamoured with the beautiful world he was used to.
All she could hope for was pity.
"Just say Stevo sent you, they probably wont mind. Cheer up, the actors open all their fan mail!", he said turning and leaving before the young girl could reply. He really just wanted to get away from the studio and not think about everything that had happened.
Deftly maneuvering around a rather aimless group of people, Esther curled her hands a bit tighter around the multitude of packages she had yet to deliver. Spotting the man in dark glasses, she made her way past the thinning crowd of workers.
"Where do you want these?" Her tone was filled with a familiar and condescending annoyance - a tone that would have gotten her slapped by anyone that paid attention. Luckily, most didn't.
Davenport, in particular desperation to get outside and find a quiet corner to be sick in, was suddenly confronted with the furious little dark girl who'd nearly spilled coffee on him the other day.
"Oh, yes, aahh.."
His stomach lurched, imperceptively.
"You can put those backstage."

Esther

Anonymous

January 25 2006, 00:13:31 UTC 11 years ago

Smiling a bit too genuinely at the man's rather disgusted appearance, Esther made her way backstage - pausing for a moment to view the wood and rope that coiled around her. Her eyes went wide.
Setting her bags on the stage floor, Esther tried to keep her stomach down as, steadily, she lowered the rather disheveled looking white lady to the ground. Making sure not to touch the body, with shaking hands she checked to see if the girl was still breathing, her hands floated above her in a useless effort to smooth her dress. She ran out to catch the man by the arm but, on a panicked second thought merely raised her fingers into the air. "You know there's a dead woman back there? Sir?"
Davenport had gotten his hat and jacket on when Esther returned. Damn. He'd been hoping to be three to five miles down the road. He winced when he heard her speak the situation aloud.
"I've calle dthe police.. keep in under here," he said, touching his hat. He then made his way as swiftly out the studio door as he possibly could without tripping over anyone or anything.
Running one hand over her apron, the other through her hair, Esther stood bewildered for a moment. Then, with a thoroughly tired look on her face, she headed backstage to place the packages she had left on the floor. Death was no excuse to get fired for a bad job.