Original Airdate: Sunday, June 29th, 2009
Starring: "America", "Burgundy", "Bryon"
Guest Starring: "Ginny", "Jenny"
Notes: Waiting around by the Spy High cast trailers leads to things such as swearing, loud noises, and cupcakes that don't actually exist.
EXT — "SPY HIGH" TRAILERS — NIGHT
It's a late shoot on the set of Spy High — that is, It's as much of a "night shoot" as it can be, given some of the involved stars can't work past a certain hour, which is to say it's only approaching an hour that could be considered "late". Damn kids. The filming of the series has been between takes for awhile, the production crew busy as bees on the lot. Away from the usual chaos, out by the rows of trailers — particularly, Unimportant Guest Star Trailer #5 — a certain high-powered blonde stands in her typical pencil skirt and blouse, satiny pink, this time, and altogether too hot to avoid sweltering in the current heat wave. "She's refusing to come out of her trailer," America is saying into her phone, voice raised just so in order to be heard through the walls of the trailer she loiters beside. Swiping her bangs away from her eyes, she strolls a few steps away to hiss into the phone, "I know she's supposed to be there already, I got her the fucking job to guest star on this ridiculous show. It's like a high school circus over here. I can't take a step without running into some kid doing a backflip."
Just a few trailers over, out here in the wastelands of unimportant people, Burgundy also makes her home away from home. She's been hanging out in there while waiting for this damn scene to rap so that she can actually get on with her night. And from the slightly glazed look in her eyes, she's probably been doing things in there that aren't exactly approved of on all-ages sets. Their fault for leaving her bored and without ample supervision! But the sound of a voice from outside is enough to get her to venture out, wondering if that's maybe some little PA come to tell them they can finally do this thing. Nope, it just seems to be someone on the phone. But since she's already gone to the trouble of stumbling outside, Burgundy stays put, leaning back against the trailer as she lights up a smoke, listening in without much subterfuge.
Bryon is walking around outside the trailers, bouncing a basketball. He's already done his one or two lines, but is hanging around just in case. He idly throws the ball against the wall of a trailer, making a loud clang. "Whoa… it's like a gong or something," he says. Ah, bored kids.
"I know the director. Don't worry," America goes on with a totally self-assured chuckle. "I can stall him." She glances along one poised shoulder, taking in the sight of Ms. Babineaux with a vaguely unimpressed up-and-down before turning her back to the actress to continue her conversation. "We've still got some play time before he realizes he has a bitchy little diva on his hands," she says, planting one hand firmly on her hip. Then— *CLANG*. She tenses up, whipping around to stalk past the trailer to find the source of the noise. "…These damn kids, I don't know how you put up with it," she mutters under her breath (perhaps not quietly enough). Back to the phone, as always. "Right now, do your job and just manage the hysterics in there. If that door doesn't open in five minutes, I'll take care of it, but you know, I'm being nice, I'd like to give yu the chance to do what I assume she pays your for. …Yes, that means hanging up with me." Holding the sleek phone out and giving it an incredulous look and a disgusted shake of her head, she disconnects the call herself. "Useless…"
Burgundy is really, really used to those sorts of unimpressed looks, so it goes pretty much unnoticed, the glance met only with an upward jerk of her chin. The clang makes her jump and swear somewhat loudly and colourfully. The blood in her alcohol-steam makes it hard to self-censor sometimes. She catches that mutter of America's though, and it gets a laugh. Maybe a bit too loud of one, really. It … wasn't that funny, was it. She flicks the filter of her cigarette with a painted nail, knocking some of the ash to the ground before she takes another drag, listening to America wrap up the call. "Some people," she begins, as if she were part of the conversation all along, "Have no sense of perf- professionalism." Hey, at least she's out of her trailer.
There seems to be some disagreement on the set about whether they are or are not ready for the next set-up and, when these kinds of things don't align, then pressure boils down the ranks until it all lands on the shoulders of unfortunate little PAs. Dressed with an unflattering fanny-pack like contraption on either hip, a headset half-tangled in her curly hair, and a tray full of tiny sandwiches meant as peace-offerings is one such unfortunate. Her name's Ginny and she's trying to make it in the business. If only she could just make it through this day - or this maze of trailers. Balancing her wits and her equipment, she rounds one corner all prepared to knock on a— *CLANG*, bitching, un-PG-rated-like-swearing! Needless to say, Ginny spins right back around on her heels until she's pressed up against the short side of the trailer. Deep breaths, deep breaths.
Bryon looks up as he spots America coming around the trailer. Whoops. "Uhh… sorry," he says. "I didn't break anything did I?" You know those movie scenes where the kids are playing baseball, one kid breaks a window, and they all go running away from the irate old man next door? Bryon's about ready to do that.
"Only someone's concentration," America says distractedly to Bryon. Kids: not her strong point. She has at least five minutes to kill standing outside this trailer, which might be the only thing that encourages her to turn to face the older of the Spy High … sort of … Star who seems to have spoken. She moves to stand, arms folded, in front of her client's trailer — without going quite so far as to actually lean on it. It might be dirty. She eyes the direction around of swearing comes from, but— well, that's not exactly uncommon on a set. Yet again, Burgundy gains an unimpressed look, this one ever-so-slightly more critical — you can tell, see, because one eyebrow arches. In (mocking?) contrast, a wide smile appears. "I bet you'd know, huh?"
Burgundy looks over as someone else seems to be swearing as well, but when she doesn't see anyone, she gets a little confused. God, is she getting those auditory hallucinations again? Just what she needs. But she shrugs this off, physically shrugging as she tugs her shirt back up over her shoulders again, and turns her attention to Bryon for a moment. "Don't worry about it, kid," she advises sagely, before looking to America. She might notice the irony to the woman's comment, but chooses not to. "Oh yeah. I've seen it all," she replies in earnest instead. She would know. She's been doing this longer than most of the set has been alive. God, that's depressing. She tosses her butt to the ground and stomps it out before lighting up another one.
Um, yes, hi, here's Ginny again. Frightened little Ginny comes side-stepping around the trailer back into view of those there. She takes visual inventory of each one — a small child who looks, hey!, almost as spooked as her. A chain-smoking somebody. A very pink suit. Naturally, she approaches America, bracing the tray of sandwiches out in front of her like a shield. "They're, um, they say it might be another ten minutes for Miss…" Her mind blanks. Carefully, she attempts to ease her gaze down to the script attached to her left-hand fanny-pack but she can't quite read the dangling letters. "Miss, uh…"
Bryon sighs with relief, tucking the basketball under his arm. "Thanks," he says. "Just waiting to see if I'm showing up anywhere else," he adds. "Maybe somewhere in the back somewhere, I don't know."
"Mm," America agrees, putting aside her apparent distaste over Burgundy in order to bitch for a moment while she waits. "Some managers," she clarifies with a minor roll of her eyes. Her gaze rolls straight on over to the PA. "…Get your words out, honey. Do you mean Jenny?" She glances, paired with a gesture of her head, to the trailer beside her. Behind muffled walls of metal, a Miley Cyrus ringtone sounds and some high-pitched hysterics ensue; not the best of signs. "… Great," she mumbles with no shortage of sarcasm. "If so," Ms. King waves a hand flippantly, as if warding off the actress within the trailer. "Thank God." Oh hey, that boy with the basketball is still here. "While you're here, why don't you find out where this kid's supposed to go?"
"Wouldn't know their ass from a hole in the ground," Burgundy finishes that thought about some managers. Oh yes, she's seen it all in that respect too. As Ginny reappears, her gaze follows the frightened little mouse, with that same idle interest that was used to listen in on America's phone call. "How much longer we here tonight?" she speaks up, ignoring the fact that Ginny is already kind of in the middle of a conversation - which she should know, since she's listening to it. Bryon gets another glance. "The waiting sucks, huh?" she sympathizes with a knowing nod.
"Uhh… uh…" The glancing from one request to the other isn't doing well for Ginny's nerves but she manages to maneuver the tray out of her way and unhook some kind of schedule from yet underneath the dangling script. She must weigh twice her tiny weight for all this she's carrying. "Um, yes, Miss Jennifer." She accomplishes, scanning the shot list and gnawing at the inside of her cheek. She jumps once at the sudden hysterics but continues, "She'll be.. fifteen unless I get a new word. We're a little over tonight, but it shouldn't be - really shouldn't be much later. Would you like a sandwich?" The tray is swung towards the other woman instead while Ginny tries to squint at Bryon. "Is he.. scheduled? Umm…" She one-handed flips a page, "What's your name?" To Bryon.
"Yup," Bryon says with a nod toward Burgundy. "Especially for things like this when I'm not doing much in the show anyway… I'm just this guy's annoying cousin," he adds, putting on an "annoying cousin" voice. "Oh yeah, I'm Bryon," he says to the girl. "I should be done, but… well, I'm not sure."
America is, perhaps surprisingly, patient with the frazzled Ginny, even flashing a smile. "I don't care if the set's on fire. However long it is, I'll take it," she says with a tone of, of all things, gratitude. To her, the delay is good news. After all, there's still some high-pitched wailing going on inside that trailer. "And— no, thanks."
"Tell me about it," Burgundy replies to Bryon, heaving a weary sigh. Not like she ever does much in the show - nothing like she could do if they'd only give her a chance. She takes another drag of her cigarette as her gaze comes back over, considering the tray of sandwiches. She finally deigns to straighten from the side of the trailer, moving forward enough to snag one. Free food is free food, and she's blown her pay already. Besides, maybe the food will help with those auditory hallucinations again. Swaying just slightly, she takes her spoils and goes to lean again on the side of the trailer.
"Bryon, Bryon, Bryon," is the mantra as Ginny attempts to keep up flipping those pages and holding the tray for Burgundy. At least someone's eating them; she doesn't want to have these all left at the end of the day. "I don't… I don't see anything for you, so I think you're in the clear, buddy. Are you from… nearby?" See, because, carpools are going to have to be detained, too, what with the day running long. But before she can even address that, Ginny's headsets buzzes - some tinny scrapping to the rest of them, but she can her the words and her nose scrunches up in confusion at them. When the buzzing's silenced, the poor PA glances between each of them a second time. Then she gives a what-the-hell shoulder shrug and points quizzically at America, "So, then… you're Shirley, the Vintage Cupcake?"
Bryon grins. "Studio City," he replies to Ginny. "Mom's probably waiting for me somewhere around though."
America crosses her arms slightly tighter, watching Burgundy with a keenly perceptive eye. Sway into her space bubble and die. She turns another smile on Ginny, this time brighter. (She wants something.) She's poised to ask something, but her smile fades and she fixes the PA with a perplexed and, quite frankly, offended look. "What? Nnnnno, I'm not Shirley. Do I look like a cupcake to you?"
Burgundy, thankfully, manages to sway herself back to her own trailer's side. Next time, America, next time. She takes a final drag on her cigarette before grinding it out so that she can work on this sandwich bit. Since nobody seems to be talking to her, she just listens for a moment, making rather short work of the food. "There are cupcakes?" she asks, sounding intrigued in this idea. Yes, yes, clearly she missed a whole part of that conversation and focussed only on the pertinent bit. Expectantly, she looks between Ginny and America. "Maybe you should bring some over. Bet the kid would like a cupcake; right kid?" Do it for Bryon, and then she'll just, uh, snag one while they're here and all.
Bryon thinks for a bit, then nods. "Okay! It'll just be my reward for a good day's work!" he says with a smile. "Do you have strawberry?"
Ginny checks her list. Checks America's face. Checks the list again. "No-no, ma'am. That is, it's not—" She spares a look for Burgundy, too, "It's a character listed here, see. Shirley, member of the Vintage Cupcakes. She's supposed to wear a lot of… pink." What Ginny is blissfully unaware of as she cites America's clothes as reference is that, a small joke on the part of the writer, 'vintage cupcake' can also refer to a particularly frilly line of babydoll lingerie. But nobody needs to know that. Especially not small children asking for a flavor. "No, no. There's no cupcakes. My mistake."
America eyes Ginny skeptically for awhile but, when it seems like her eye-narrowing is on the verge of exploding into a backlash of some kind, she just squints all the more and says, "….Riiight, well, good luck with that. Bring some bottles of water around if you have a chance."
"Oh…" Bryon says, understanding. "Well, there have got to be snacks around here somewhere," he says looking around. "I should grab some before I head home." He scratches his head and looks around a bit more.
"Oh. Well, darn," Burgundy replies, seeming really quite disappointed at the lack of cupcakes here. "Could really go for a cupcake now." No, she's not going to be getting over this soon. She frowns down at the remains of her sandwich, but it just isn't the same. Still, she'll finish it off, of course, before she moves to light up another cigarette. "So, we any closer to getting this thing done?" she inquires, having no sense of how much time has gone by since she last asked. To Bryon, she nods. "Take what you can kid. They'll take what they can from you."
Alas, Ginny is a PA, so when she hears requests she has to figure to take them. Everyone in the /world/ is above her, after all. "Water," she repeats, "Water, right." And she strolls off, forgetting about rides or divas in trailers, just muttering, "Water bottles. Water bottles. And see something about cupcakes…"
America, who seems to be the only one who doesn't care about cupcakes in some fashion, takes this moment of relative quiet in the absence of Ginny to ignore the others and listen carefully by the trailer. The crying and girlish snivelling seems to have died down, and so the agent turns to rap cautiously, but with sharp raps, on the door. "Jenny…?" Nada. "Jennifer," she calls a little louder before honeying up her tone. "Open the door for me, sweetie, what did that manager of yours say to you?" Insert incomprehensible wail. So much for that. "Christ," America mutters, but, for the actress, says, "Listen, I'll go talk to them for you, but first you have to come out so I can get you to the make-up trailer…"
Bryon looks towards the trailer uncertainly. "Uh… what's going on in there?" he asks America. "Having trouble?" He's a kid, he can't help being a little curious.
Burgundy frowns a bit as she gets absolutely no response to her question about ETA here. She has things to see! People to do! No, that's not right. Whatever. She idly blows a few smoke rings as she watches America try to cajole her drama queen. "Maybe if you offered her a cupcake," she advises, though it's said with a bit of a smirk, so she might not be serious. Maybe.
"Nothing we can't handle," America replies to Bryon with a touch of annoyance behind the smile she flashes him. No need to start any rumours about her client, after all. She gives Burgundy a skeptical look; serious or not, though… it's worth a shot. "There's cupcakes!" She shouts to Jenny, even though it may be a lie.
Wait for it… wait for it… the door starts to open a crack. Jenny, a petite brunette who looks to be about sixteen, face tear-streaked to high heaven, sulkily emerges.
Bryon watches as the girl comes out. "Oh, I saw her around," he says, recognizing her. "In fact… yeah, her leaving was my cue to come in," he adds after a bit of thought. He tries to come up with something to say to her to maybe cheer her up, but… nope, nothing.
Burgundy gives a little sound of triumph as the cupcake gambit pays off! She gives Jenny a thoughtful look, perhaps, as she so often does around here, recognizing a bit of herself in that. "Hey doll," she bids in a tone suddenly a great deal kinder, and actually sounding somewhat coherent. "Heard they've got 'em waiting for you by makeup." Worth a shot, even if this isn't really her business. She's got nothing better to do, and she's stuck here anyway.
Casper has disconnected.
The young actress cringes as she reluctantly steps out of the trailer. Something about the make-up trailer is the source of her angst.
America, eager to prevent more waterworks, thanks, jumps in to wrap an arm around Jenny. "You don't worry your pretty little head. I'm telling you, it's not that bad…" She says as she starts to lead the girl away from the trailers. "You're going to look fine." Over her shoulder, she says, "…make sure that crazy little PA finds some damn cupcakes."
Bryon's face brightens as he looks back after America. "So there are going to be cupcakes? Sweet!" he says, no pun intended. "Over at… makeup?" he asks. "Okay, I'll just go over there, get the cupcakes when they're ready, THEN go home."
Burgundy's eyebrows go up a little. Surely no one is expecting her to pass along a message. Bryon would be about twenty times the more responsible messenger than she would be. Case in point, instead of going anywhere to tell anyone anything, she just shrugs her shoulders and digs out another cigarette. "Save me one, all right?" she bids to Bryon, speaking around her cigarette as she clumsily tries to light it. Again, it's hard to tell if she's serious or not.
Bryon goes jogging off to the makeup trailer, hoping the cupcakes will be there by the time he arrives, dribbling his ball on the way.
