I suppose I knew this is what a studio lot looked like. But I can’t help feeling it’s a bit … meh. Where are the cameras? Where’s the guy shouting “Action”? And, more important, where’s the wardrobe department? I really wish I had a map, and I really wish Shaun would stop. As if reading my mind, he pulls to a halt and turns to face us, his face glowing with professional animation.
“Ever wondered, where was the famous grating that Anna lost her ring down in the movie Fox Tales? Right here, on the Sedgewood Studios lot! Come and take a closer look.”
Obediently, we all get off the cart and have a look. Sure enough, on a nearby fence, there’s a framed still from some black-and-white film of a girl in fox furs dropping a ring down a grating. To my eye, it’s just an old grating. But everyone else is taking pictures of it, jostling for a good view, so maybe I should too. I take a couple of snaps, then edge away from the group while they’re all engrossed. I walk to the corner and squint up the road, hoping to see a sign saying WARDROBE or COSTUME DESIGN, but it’s only more white buildings, lawns, and trees. Nor can I see a single film star. In fact, I’m starting to doubt whether they really come here at all.
“Ma’am?” Out of nowhere, Shaun has appeared, looking like a special agent in his dark jacket and headset. “Ma’am, I need you to stay with the group.”
“Oh, right. OK.” Reluctantly, I follow him back to the cart and get on. This is useless. I’m never going to meet Nenita Dietz stuck on a cart.
“To your right, you’ll see the buildings that house some of the most famous film-production companies in the world,” Shaun is booming down the earpiece. “They all produce films right here on the Sedgewood lot! Now we’re heading to the gift shop.…”
I’m peering out of the cart as we trundle along, reading every sign we pass. As we pause at an intersection, I lean out, squinting, to read the signs on the buildings. Scamper Productions … AJB Films … Too Rich Too Thin Design—oh my God, that’s her! That’s Nenita Dietz’s company! Right there in front of my eyes! OK. I’m off.
With a burst of excitement, I unbuckle my belt and start clambering off the cart, just as we start moving. The momentum sends me sprawling onto the grass, and everyone on the cart screams.
“Oh my God!” one woman exclaims. “Are these carts safe?”
“Is she injured?”
“I’m fine!” I call. “Don’t worry, I’m fine!” I hastily get to my feet, brush myself down, and pick up my portfolio. Right. New career, here I come.
“Ma’am?” Shaun has appeared by my side again. “Are you OK?”
“Oh, hi, Shaun.” I beam at him. “I’d like to get off here, actually. I’ll make my own way back, thanks. Brilliant tour,” I add. “I loved the grating. Have a good day!”
I start to walk away, but, to my annoyance, Shaun follows me.
“Ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to walk unsupervised through the lot. If you would like to leave the tour, one of our representatives will guide you back to the gate.”
“That’s not necessary!” I say brightly. “I know the way.”
“It is necessary, ma’am.”
“But honestly—”
“This is a working lot, and unauthorized visitors must be accompanied at all times. Ma’am.”
His tone is implacable. Honestly. They take it all so seriously. What is this, NASA?
“Could I go to the ladies?” I say in sudden inspiration. “I’ll just pop in to that building there. I’ll only be a sec.…”
“There’s a ladies’ room at the gift store, which is our next stop,” says Shaun. “Could you please rejoin the cart?”
His face hasn’t flickered once. He means business. If I make a run for it, he’ll probably rugby-tackle me to the ground. I want to scream with frustration. Nenita Dietz’s design company is right there. It’s yards away.
“Fine,” I say at last, and morosely follow him back to the cart. The other passengers are looking at me with wonder and incomprehension. I can almost see the thought bubbles above their heads: Why would you get off the cart?
We whiz off again, past more buildings and round corners, and Shaun starts talking about some famous director who used to sunbathe nude in the 1930s, but I don’t listen. This is a total failure. Maybe I need to come again tomorrow and try a different tack. Sneak away at the start before I’ve even got on a cart. Yes.
The only tiny positive is, there’s a shop. At least I can buy souvenirs for everyone. As I wander around the gift store, looking at tea towels and pencils with miniature clapper boards on them, I can’t help sighing morosely. The old lady who was sitting next to me comes over and picks up a novelty megaphone paperweight. She glances at Shaun, who is supervising us all with a close eye. Then she moves nearer to me and says in a lowered voice, “Don’t look at me. He’ll suspect something. Just listen.”
“OK,” I say in surprise. I pick up a Sedgewood Studios mug and pretend to be engrossed in it.
“Why did you get off the cart?”
“I want to break into movies,” I say, practically whispering. “I want to meet Nenita Dietz. Her office was right there.”
“Thought it was something like that.” She nods in satisfaction. “That’s the kind of thing I would have done.”
“Really?”
“Oh, I was stagestruck. But what was I going to do? I was a kid in Missouri. My parents wouldn’t let me sneeze without permission.” Her eyes dim a little. “I ran away when I was sixteen. Got as far as L.A. before they tracked me down. Never did it again. I should have.”