Chapter 12Janie
Chapter 12 Janie
I couldn’t remember feeling that good in months. Maybe years. He held me so tight my lungs flattened, but I no longer wanted to breathe. I only wanted to bathe in Emir’s words and exist against his chest, breathing in the smell of his aftershave. Cinnamon, coffee, and earth.
Through the waves of endorphins coursing through me, I became aware of how I’d ended up there, like a distant, nagging sound that gradually grew louder. I’d thrown myself at him, again. I’d brought him all this hurt he hadn’t caused and made it his problem.
You must be better than this, Janie.
With my every cell wailing in protest, I tore myself away and wiped my eyes. “Thank you, Emir. I needed that. I shouldn’t have… but thank you.”
“Anything you need, Janie.” His voice was a rough whisper. “That’s what I’m here for.”
I didn’t have time to contemplate his words because the doorbell rang, shrill like a fire alarm.
Not yet. Not yet.
I winced, drawing deep breaths to regain some control. “It’s the film crew,” I told Emir, and almost apologized.
He got up, stepping aside so that I could get to the door. “I’ll get out of your way.”
I cleared the used tissues into the trash can, straightened my blazer and approached the door.
I’m a professional. I can do this.
Gru followed me to the door, greeting everyone with far more enthusiasm than I could muster.
The two gentlemen on my doorstep smiled back, channeling a mix of nerves and cockiness. The younger and shorter one was dressed in head-to-toe army green, his vest adorned with so many pockets it must have taken him hours to find his keys. He had three giant black bags on his shoulder and huge smile on his face.
“Janie Andrews? I mean, I know it’s you. I’ve seen you on TV. My name is Caleb Barnes, I’m the camera assistant. We’re so excited to work with you!”
I shook his hand, quickly warming to his enthusiasm.
“Gus Allan. DOP.” The taller and older one stuck out his hand. He had a slouchy posture, long beard and shoulder-length hair that was combed back with great care. “You’re very lucky. I’ve just updated the gear. I told Tabitha I wasn’t taking on anything new, but when she said it’s for Janie Andrews, I was swayed.”
“Welcome! I’m so glad you could make it.”
Gru ran circles around everyone’s legs. I noticed Gus’s eyes flash with annoyance before he covered it with a smile, offering me a lingering handshake. “You should know that I’m bringing you the absolute best. Superior image quality. This baby can shoot 12k, raw—”
“I don’t need 12k.” I waved my hand, flashing him a brisk smile.
“Well, it’s there if you need it. Why go for smaller if you can go big?” He widened his stance, as if to highlight his height next to his shorter assistant.
I was used to guys trying to impress me, and used to ignoring a lot of innuendo, but the way his eyes roamed my body made me nervous. If it hadn’t been for Caleb, and the knowledge that Emir was around, I would have hesitated to let him in the house.
“Great! If we need to shoot a shorter piece to pull high-res screenshots, that’ll come in very handy. Looks like an expensive camera.” I pointed at the piece of equipment he cradled in his arms.
“You know a lot about filmmaking, don’t you?” Caleb stared at me, his eyes shining.
“Very little, all in all,” I assured him.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Gus’s spine straighten.
“I used to be a runner, but I’ve been picking up some skills on the way,” Caleb explained.
Gus fiddled with his camera, his jaw twitching. “You can edit 12k with proxies. And if you’re worried about long takes, I have some extra memory cards that—
“Please, come in.” I exchanged a quick smile with Caleb, guiding them both into the living room, quickly steering Gru out of the way. Maybe Emir could keep him company at his end of the house.
Evidently, these were the best and brightest filmmakers I could scrape together on short notice. I could only hope Gus had some skills, not just a major gear acquisition syndrome, or ‘GAS’ as it was more commonly called.
“You can set up here,” I told them, gesturing at the cleared-up end of the living room. “I’ve prepared my intro which I can read to the camera once you’re set up. We can use this as a test shoot. This will be part of the teaser I’m using to pitch the idea to a couple of channels.”
“Setting up here?” Gus inspected the room, his eyebrows drawn.
“We’ll have to work with natural light, sorry. I don’t have a lot of time. I have an… appointment in town I need to get ready for.”
Gus raised his hand. “No. Absolutely not. Natural light is far too unpredictable. If we need to cut it together, nothing will match. I have lights in my car. Caleb will bring them in shortly. You just go powder your nose or whatever you need to do while we set up.”
Caleb heaved his bags on the floor and ran off with a giddy smile.
“Okay, fine.” I grabbed my laptop and left them to it, settling into a chair in my bedroom.
So, this is what I had to work with. I could already tell Gus’s interest in filmmaking was largely technical and Caleb seemed too inexperienced to be of much help. I’d have to present, direct, and figure it all out by myself.
I checked myself in the bathroom mirror and fixed my makeup. My eyes still looked slightly red, but maybe that worked for the subject matter. Over my long career, I’d heard some scathing feedback, and I knew my ‘peppiness’ annoyed some viewers. Well, problem solved. I didn’t look peppy now. I looked like I’d been hung to dry, which seemed appropriate for a documentary on flooding.
I went over the pitch I’d written on my laptop, memorizing the lines again. If my ragtag crew managed to record both image and sound, I could make this work.
When I returned to the living room, I found the curtains drawn and a makeshift studio with a white backdrop surrounded by incredibly bright spotlights. In the middle, someone had placed one of my bar stools. The setup looked so stark and lifeless I struggled to keep the smile on my face. “Thank you, guys! This is very… professional.”
Gus puffed his chest, his fingers resting on the camera he’d set up on a tripod. “We’re ready for you. I have a teleprompter if you need one.”
“That’s okay. It’s a short piece and I’ve memorized it. I’ll do it in two parts. We’ll have to get some extra footage from Esk Valley and around to use as inserts anyway.”
“I have a steady cam setup that’s perfect for those moving shots,” Gus announced. “And a small crane and a drone in case you need them.”
“No helicopter?”
“No…” He looked baffled. “But a drone is as good as—”
“Just kidding.” I smiled, enjoying the way his face twitched.
Caleb laughed and Gus gave me a half-hearted chuckle in response, but his hand tightened around the grip. I shouldn’t have poked back, but I couldn’t help myself.
I sat on the stool, blinking at the bright spotlight. I couldn’t remember the lights ever being this blinding in the TV studio. I braced myself for purple floaters and faced the camera. “Can we turn down the lighting just a bit?” I asked. “Maybe move the one that’s closest to me? It’s a bit distracting.”
“This is classic three-point lighting.” Gus grumbled, staring at his camera. “The picture looks great.” He beckoned Caleb to step closer. “Once the subject is in first position, you’ll want to go in manually, focus and lock it in. This way, if she moves her hand over her face to gesture or anything like that, the focus won’t suddenly shift to her hand.” He looked up. “Could you move your hand over your face? I’m just showing him something.”
I lifted my hand, resisting the urge to flip him off as I did so. Once they finished the camera focus lecture, Gus attached a wireless microphone to the collar of my top, hovering over my neckline for needlessly long, his fingers brushing over my skin several times. I held my breath, trying not to breathe in his aftershave, which had momentarily replaced oxygen around me.
Finally, he backed away and raised his hand. “Aaand… action!”
The film set lingo felt exaggerated, given the context, but I ignored his theatrics and delivered my lines to the camera, inserting as much passion for the subject as I possibly could. I spoke about the devastation of the floods and detailed the financial losses and emotional trauma that the locals would be dealing with for a long time.
I held a subtle smile until Gus called ‘cut’, then got up. “Can I watch it?”
Gus pulled out a long cable and connected the camera to a large field monitor he’d set up on a side table. “Here you go.”
Nothing could have prepared me for the sight. The extremely sharp footage highlighted every pore and fine line on my face. I looked old, haggard, and somehow menacing, even when I smiled. My voice sounded harsh. How long had it been since my last TV broadcast? What the hell had happened to my face?
I turned away from the screen, trying to curb my reaction. I couldn’t go on camera like this. What did I need? Botox? Plastic surgery? Where could I get it on short notice, with no money?
“Is there anything we could do to make me look a bit… um… better?” I asked. “There’s something wrong with this picture. It’s too sharp or something. Maybe if we tried a shallower depth of field and natural light…”
“Maybe you’ve been looking at yourself through those TikTok filters?” Gus flashed me a condescending smile. “This is the real world. You look fine, though. Nobody’s perfect.” He stared at the image on the screen, his gaze pointed so low I could have sworn he was staring at my cleavage. “You can apply some filters. I have some very advanced, AI-powered ones. I’m happy to come over and help you edit.”
He turned to Caleb, assuming the earlier lecturing voice. “This is what the camera does. All the insecurities come out and you’ll have to soothe the star, make them feel better about themselves. Let’s both tell Janie that a few wrinkles don’t make her unattractive.”
“You look amazing for your age, Ms. Andrews,” Caleb said obligingly, smiling at me.
I could tell he was genuine, but Gus’s patronizing tone had already gotten under my skin. “Okay. You can stop that. I know exactly how old I am. I don’t have a problem with aging. It’s society that has a problem.”
Caleb nodded vigorously, his blond fringe shaking. “Exactly.”
“I’ll just redo my makeup and we can go again.” I held my chin high, even if my voice quivered ever-so-slightly.
Maybe I was losing my looks. Maybe it was all over now. Living in the countryside, tending to plants and animals, I hadn’t focused on my face. The couple of mirrors I had in the house had strategically soft lighting. I’d enjoyed the break. Between working in the garden and running the film office, I didn’t have too much time for navel-gazing, the professional disease that had infected a hundred percent of my peers on TV. If that meant I now had to face the inevitable changes my face and body had undergone in the last couple of years, so be it. I’d face it. In high definition. Thousands of women would feel better about themselves when they saw me like that.
But no matter what I told myself, I couldn’t shake the desperation. Being on TV messed with your head. It made you feel like your appearance was everything. Your net worth, earning potential and job opportunities all depended on it.
I thought I could leave it behind and rid myself of those values, but it wasn’t just TV. It was the world. It was my reality, even here in Napier. I’d thrown myself at Emir, a gorgeous younger man, and he’d turned me down. He’d seen what I’d seen on that screen. I was far too old for him.
Tears burning behind my eyes again, I removed the wireless mic and left the room, forcing myself to walk slowly when I felt like running for the hills.