The Craft Table

‘Aaaaand… action!’ the director called, and the entire crew’s attention flicked to the soundstage.

         ‘I can’t do this anymore, Marie,’ the actor sobbed, staring into the eyes of his beautiful co-star.

         ‘Doesn’t she look bored to you?’ I whispered to Alana as we jostled for snacks at the crafts table. She snorted, earning us a pointed glare from the assistant director. I made an apologetic gesture on her behalf and she, for her part, pointed at me as the culprit. He turned away, clearly lacking the energy to deal with us.

         ‘Dude, you almost got us killed!’ I elbowed her in the ribs.

         ‘You’re the one that made me laugh!’ she bumped me back.

         ‘She does look bored though, right?’

         ‘Oh yeah,’ Alana confirmed. ‘The camera’s not on her yet, so… nobody’s home.’

         ‘You think it’s like a method thing?’

         ‘On this show?’

         ‘Yeah, why not?’

         ‘Because,’ she frowned, grabbing a handful of chips, ‘that’d be like hiring a dialect coach for a marketing video production shoot.’ I looked at her blankly and she rolled her eyes. ‘Overkill.’

         ‘Ah, gotcha.’

         ‘Hey, what are you doing after this?’ she asked me, abruptly.

         ‘I was thinking of going back to my apartment and being poor,’ I answered, shoving a cupcake into my mouth. ‘Why?’

         ‘Wanna come with me to an interview?’ she asked, eyes sparkling mischievously.

         ‘Why would I come with you to your interview?’ I frowned. ‘I have better things to do.’

         ‘You really don’t.’

         ‘What even is it?’ I asked, ignoring her. ‘You better not have a job lined up with the best video production team in Melbourne, because you know that’s my very vague dream.’

         ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ she laughed. ‘But the second-best one? Maybe.’

         I stopped shuffling down the food table and looked at her. She realised I wasn’t behind her anymore and stopped too.

         ‘What?’

         ‘You,’ I smiled. ‘You really want this one, don’t you?’

         Alana nodded, slowly.

         ‘Fine,’ I sighed. ‘But you’re buying me dinner.’

         I ducked as she threw a bag of chips at me.