Talented Maestro

Chapter 12 – An Unexpected Turn?

Wayne woke up the next morning not to an alarm, but to his own internal clock. Years of habit had conditioned him to rise at 6:30 a.m., no matter how late he went to bed.

He considered sleeping in for a bit longer—until he glanced at the beautiful blonde curled up against him. And just like that, all sleep vanished from his mind. What was this? The best hunters always show up disguised as prey? That woman last night clearly hadn't been as drunk as she let on.

He reached under the blanket and gave her a firm squeeze. Naomi opened her eyes in a daze, locking eyes with him for a moment before her brain seemed to fully boot up.

"Dear Director Garfield, it's barely past six," she murmured, resting her head against his chest and stroking his face. "We still have over an hour—won't you go back to sleep?"

"No," Wayne said flatly. "I feel like I was tricked last night. You weren't drunk at all, and now I just feel played. So, I think you deserve a little punishment."

"Mmm, what kind of punishment?" Naomi purred. "Are you holding an audition, Director Garfield? Tell me what role you need—I can't be Catwoman again though. We still have shooting today, and I'd rather not get injured."

She didn't reject him—in fact, she seemed to enjoy this side of Wayne. It made him feel less like a rigid workaholic and more like... well, a man.

Half an hour later, Wayne got up and dressed, looking refreshed. Naomi bolted to the bathroom, one hand covering her mouth. He didn't wait for her. He returned to his own room, washed up, and got ready. A new day of shooting was about to begin.

---

"Naomi!" Wayne called to her on set in the school dormitory, a temporary location. The last take had been decent, but he wanted to try one more to get it just right.

"You did well just now," he said. "But you haven't hit your emotional shift yet. This is your first time experiencing death—don't show weakness. Hide that physical fragility."

The makeup artist, Lily, was already chasing Naomi with her kit to touch her up.

Wayne turned to another actor. "Ethan, great job. Keep that energy going."

By the third day, the cast and crew were finally falling into sync. The exterior school scenes were mostly done, and everyone was adjusting smoothly to indoor shooting. Progress was finally catching up to the schedule.

Wayne breathed a sigh of relief. Indoor scenes meant fewer distractions—no noisy crowds, fewer extras messing up their marks. While the acting required more finesse, the number of NG (no good) takes had dropped significantly.

"Cut. That's a wrap for this scene. Let's move on."

At the doorway, Luke watched his junior with a complicated expression. Wayne was growing fast, and under his coordination, the production had finally found its rhythm. Watching him patiently explain a scene to both Naomi and Ethan, Luke was convinced they had finally caught up to schedule.

If all went well, they might even finish the school scenes ahead of time. This junior, who had graduated two years after him, was clearly on the right path—and gaining momentum with every step.

"Uma, no, that's not it. Your expression's off," Wayne called out. "Don't act like you want to kill the female lead. She doesn't know that damned cake is poisoned. Reset. Let's go again!"

The scene was simple: Uma gives Naomi a cake, Naomi throws it away. This was Uma's first significant appearance; up until now, her shots had been scattered. From this point on, her character would be appearing regularly.

Wayne wasn't worried—it was normal for an actor to need time to find their rhythm. He intended to shoot this scene with different emotional tones as well, including an alternate version where Naomi does eat the cake and is killed.

"Alright, we'll keep that take," he finally said. "Tomorrow's a break day—rest up, everyone. We'll resume school scenes in two days. Not much left, let's finish up and move locations."

He didn't push too hard. Everyone needed the break. Wayne had finally come to understand just how different a full-length film was from the short experimental pieces he used to shoot.

A project like this couldn't be done by one or two people. It took an entire crew—actors, technicians, everyone pulling their weight. Personal skill mattered, but without teamwork, it was meaningless.

Wayne considered himself lucky. While most of the main crew hadn't worked on any major productions, they were all experienced and highly capable. More importantly, they were young and focused—unlike jaded veterans just trying to coast through the day.

After the crew had all left, Wayne prepared to drive off. Just as he was about to start the car, someone knocked on the window. It was Luke, who opened the passenger door and climbed in.

"You didn't leave?" Wayne asked. "Go back and enjoy the two days off. Don't worry—we're back on schedule."

Wayne started the engine and headed toward the hotel with Luke in tow.

"I just wanted to let you know," Luke said, "the hospital set is almost ready. Try to find time to check it out in the next few days. If there's anything that needs changing, we'll still have time before the school scenes wrap. That way I can coordinate props and set dressing for adjustments."

Luke glanced at Wayne. This young director, not even 21 yet, was already doing an exceptional job. If things continued according to plan, the film would absolutely be completed.

"Alright," Wayne said. "I'll make time to check it out after the break. Where are you headed? Want me to drop you off at the hotel?"

"Yeah, just the hotel," Luke replied. "I'm not heading back to L.A.—I plan to get some real sleep over the next two days. What about you? Not going back to the hotel? It's almost dark."

As the car pulled up in front of the hotel, Luke opened the door and stepped out. Leaning down at the window, he asked, "Where are you off to, then?"

"My mom called this afternoon. I figured I'd head back to the farm for a bit. I haven't been home at all since work ramped up," Wayne replied, flipping on the radio and accelerating toward Ventura. With filming going smoothly, he finally felt relaxed and ready to spend some quiet time with his mom.

By the time he parked in front of the house, the sky had gone completely dark. Two golden retrievers wagged their tails from the porch, circling around him excitedly as he stepped out and followed him into the dining room.

"Mom, what's for dinner tonight? Learned any new recipes lately?" Wayne asked, hugging his mother as she arranged plates on the table.

"Sweetheart, take a seat—your father will be down in a minute," she said warmly. "I made tuna salad, green beans, and roast beef. How's the shoot going? Everything on track?"

Wayne watched as she brought the food to the table. His father soon came downstairs and sat beside them. Once his mother served him some roast beef and salad, he took a bite and nodded.

"Mmm, this is great. The shoot's been going well. Everyone's been working hard, so I gave them the next two days off."

"You look thinner," his dad commented, dabbing salad dressing from his mustache. "So, directing isn't all that easy, huh?"

"Of course not," Wayne chuckled. "Sometimes I feel like I'm splitting myself into pieces. There's always another decision to make, another fire to put out—it never ends."

His mother looked at him, heart aching, and said gently, "Wayne, don't push yourself too hard. You're doing amazing. You're only twenty, and I truly believe you'll succeed."

"I'm okay, Mom. Honestly, I'm loving the process."

That evening, wrapped in the warmth of home, Wayne shared dinner with his mother and watched a game with his father before finally heading to his room.

After being consumed by work for so long, the slower pace of life at the farm felt strangely out of place. He kept fidgeting, itching to do something.

It wasn't until he returned to Orange County and filming resumed that he finally felt at ease again—like a fish back in water. As much as he hated to admit it, Wayne knew he was addicted to this life. Being away from set made him restless.

Filming resumed, and the crew quickly fell back into rhythm. Wayne knew there were tensions within the team. Some of the senior crew members clearly didn't respect him—just another rookie director in their eyes. But at least on the surface, everyone maintained professionalism.

And it wasn't just the actresses—set designers and prop masters bickered too. Still, Wayne managed to smooth things over, keeping tempers from boiling over.

He glanced at his watch—3 p.m. Looked like they'd finish early today. The final scene at the school was about to be shot: Uma handing Naomi a piece of cake. This time, Naomi would actually eat it—and die. Simple enough.

Everyone was in high spirits, knowing they were about to wrap this leg of the shoot. After twenty-plus days of intense work, more than half of the film was in the can. Smiles were everywhere.

"Alright, last scene here—let's wrap it up!" Wayne called out. "Naomi, stay in character. Eat that damn cake. Ross, that's a real cake, right? Don't hand her a prop—Naomi can't swallow that plastic crap."

"Relax," Ross grinned. "I know the difference between real and fake. Naomi, if I were you, I'd take a bite first—just in case I slipped you a prop cake for fun."

The mood was light; people were cracking jokes.

"Okay, set up! Let's begin!"

Wayne steadied the camera, watching through the lens as Uma handed Naomi the cake. Suddenly, Uma stumbled—her foot must've caught on something—and she fell, elbow slamming into Naomi's stomach as they both collapsed in a tangle of limbs.

Wayne immediately dropped the camera.

The set erupted into chaos as everyone rushed to help. Wayne saw it clearly—Naomi curled up on the floor, clutching her stomach in pain.

Now he was pissed. Really pissed. But first things first—she might be seriously hurt.

"Shit. F**k. Naomi, how bad is it? Do we need to get you to a hospital?"

He gently lifted her and helped her onto a chair. Her face had gone pale.

Naomi winced, holding her abdomen. "I think it's okay. Just give me half an hour—I'll be fine to keep going."

"Alright. Everyone take five!" Wayne shouted.

He stormed over to Uma, who sat massaging her arm, and leaned in close. In a low, warning voice, he said:

"Listen. I'm only going to tolerate this kind of incident once. Just once. If anything else happens to disrupt the shoot, you're gone. I don't care what it costs—I will remove anyone who's a risk to this production. Got it? Look at me. Say it. Say you understand."

Uma met his icy gaze and nodded quickly. "I understand."

Wayne turned away, his face still dark, and slumped down behind the monitor, rubbing his forehead. Sometimes he truly didn't understand actresses. And if this was just a small-time performer... he could only imagine the headaches a major star would bring.