Chapter 14
Dante
My baby brother died today.
Technically speaking, he’d died four times and they hadn't even called the lunch break yet.
Bulky, soot-stained copy machines and boiling water coolers broke up the grid of cubical blocks that littered the retro mid-nineties office film set. Fat beige computer monitors sat atop nearly every document-cluttered work desk, most of which were pre-exploded with the glass already smashed out. Long, florescent light fixtures were rigged to dangle precariously off the ceiling, patiently waiting to swing or come crashing down when necessary.
The scorched pillars, peeling walls, blackened carpet and fallen drop-ceiling tiles gave the room a ravaged quality long before we ever turned on the fire. The scenic painters and prop masters had truly outdone themselves this time.
The director gave the order to the special FX guys and the beautifully ruined room became a controlled, yet raging, fiery inferno. Pillars of flame erupted in key locations around the set to give the background a “living, breathing” quality. The abrupt wave of intense heat was enough to make our eyes water even from this distance.
My knuckles tightened around the fire blanket as I glanced once more at my brother's safety team. They were alert and ready as always. We squatted as close to the scene as possible without being in the camera frame. Several fire fighters stood a dozen or so feet behind us in their full kit, like armored knights ready to charge into battle. Of course, if things went sideways they wouldn't be charging toward us. We had an understanding with those guys, they were here to get the cast and crew to safety first.
Us stunt guys always took care of our own.
“Cameras speeding, roll sound. Action! Stunts go!” The director's voice squawked like a scratchy chorus over our safety team’s walkies.
Seconds later my brother, Frost, crashed through the wall and into the scene. A massive ball of fire chased him.
The force of the explosion behind him staggered Frost into a flaming desk, which in turn ignited all the accelerant on his clothes, lighting him up like a funeral pyre. Fully engulfed from head to toe, Frost took his time, flailing and staggering through the set. He chewed up the scene, knocking things off desks and setting office supplies on fire as he passed.
Few things in life were as spectacular as watching a skilled professional do an extended full-body burn for film.
People think it's the actual fire that's the dangerous part of a stunt burn. That's not it all. With all the nomex layers and fire retardant gel we wear we make the fire department behind us look like a bunch of pussies. It's the smoke inhalation that’ll really fuck you up.
A stuntman can only be on fire for as long as he can hold his breath, especially with a full body burn. The second you have to breathe in again you’d better extinguished on the ground otherwise you're going to have some real problems.
That was no problem for Frost.
The youngest of three brothers, Frost was the only competitive athlete among us. Dad set him up to train with a former Olympic swimmer early on. Frost had an incredibly promising qualifying run. He easily could’ve stolen silver, or maybe even gold, but something happened and he walked away from it all. No idea what happened, but he’s never been back in a pool since.
Ironically, because of all his specific type of training his skill set was perfectly honed to make him one of the best in the world for fire work. Now he gets flown all over the world for projects because of it.
Next time you watch your favorite movie keep an eye out. Every poor innocent bastard whose dramatic immolation sets the hero on the path to revenge, every bad guy that gets his fiery comeuppance at the end of the movie, and every impressive burn in between; of the dozens of top tier stunt guys that specialize specifically in fire, there's a one-in-three chance you're watching my baby brother.
He's that damn good.
“Cut! Cut! Cut! Put him out!” The director cried out. Instantly the extinguishers were going and I was on top of Frost with the heavy fire-retardant blanket. Frost's team was as fast, thorough and precise as the best NASCAR pit crew. They had to be, because Frost always pushed things to their limit. When he collapsed, it was because he was out of air. Every take was life or death.
I wanted to scold him for always taking it to the brink, but who was I to talk? You couldn’t find a more reckless, adrenaline-junkie family in all of show business.
“He's good!” I called out when Frost gasped in air.
Frost rolled on to his back, sucking in great lung fulls of oxygen, a wide, smug smile on his lips. He burst out in a great fit of laughter. “Fuck yes I am!”
I helped the smug bastard up so he could bow to the round of applause after they told him that was a wrap for him. Frost missed his calling, he should’ve been an actor. I’d never met someone who loved the roar of a crowd as much as him.
“Well done, little brother.” I clasped a hand on his back. The non-synthetic wardrobe they'd given him disintegrated at my touch and fell off him in sheets like an outfit made entirely of blackened, crushed eggshells. The long underwear-style heat shield and Hydro Gel layer beneath were virtually untouched.
“Say that again?” Frost put his hand to his ear and in a raised voice, he said, “Ears are full of gel.”
“Gel and bullshit.” I shoved him forward knowing full well that he could hear me. I stepped aside for the EMTs to do their mandatory post fire health check.
Frost pulled off his hood, raising it high. “I am Stormborn of the House Targaryen,” Then he stripped off the rest of his fire gear. Every time he took off another piece for them to spray he’d call out another of Daenerys titles. The whole set came to a full stop and all the Game of Throne fans in the crew looked on with rapt attention. “First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and—”
“Mother of Dragons!” He peeled off his last sock and triumphantly threw it down with a wet slap. Completely immune to the spectacle, the fireman sprayed the sock with a sad little burst from his extinguisher. Frost nodded to the man feigning the same serious tone, then put on his robe and flip flops.
I crossed my arms and waited for him do be done, a wide smile across my face.
The director and producer clapped as they came over to shake Frost's hand and thank him for a great job today. Like the attention whore he was, Frost had this way of humbly basking in praise. It was annoying as hell, but that was only because I knew he was doing it. Everyone else just called it magnetic charm.
Frost was always the little rock star who got off on impressing people. Keats and I were more private, not that that made us any closer. If anything it’s what drove us further apart.
“How'd it look?” Frost asked, throwing an arm over my shoulder as we walked of set. He smelled like an overdone brisket with a bad spice rub. Lunch had just been called so people fell in all around us on their way to catering.
“A little hammy, but nothing too noticeable.”
“Yeah? Shit. I felt that toward the end. I gotta reign in my reactions more.” He cocked his head to the side and fingered gobs of gel out of each ear. “Thanks for running safety.”
“No worries.” It was the first time I’d seen him work in person. Now that the studio knew we were related there was no harm in filling in on his safety team.
“It’s good to see you, big bro.” He smiled with that infectious toothy grin. “You sticking around?”
“Might as well.” I shrugged. I couldn’t train Autumn today. Production picked her up for fittings and a full cast table reading to check everyone’s progress. “You want me to grab you some lunch?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind. But eat without me. After I clean this crap off, someone’s swinging by my trailer for a quick meeting. I shouldn’t be more than an hour.”
“Sure.” I peeled off with everyone else when we hit the bottom of the stairs.
After stopping by catering and chatting with some people I recognized for a about an hour or so, I walked along the long line of closely packed trailers in base camp with our food. The whole area was a hub of activity in the way a beehive was when someone kicked it. Frost might be wrapped, but the rest of production had a full day left to film.
Assistant Directors, Director’s Assistants and Production Assistants busily scurried between a never ending stream of arriving and departing vehicles to deliver paperwork and five minute warnings to the cast. The transportation guys ferried actors, crew and equipment back and forth to dozens of locations while grumbling that the useless security officers weren't keeping the travel lanes open enough.
As a stunt coordinator, there was a lot to keep track of. You needed all your guys, pads and rigging in the right place, then there were all the safety reviews, wardrobe checks and last minute filming order changes to deal with. It was nice being on set for a change and not having to worry about any of that.
I knocked on Frost's trailer door loudly. Normally I'd have just walked in after that, but I needed a moment to adjust the food containers to better grab the door handle. It was a good thing I did, because when the door opened it wasn't my brother.
“I'm sorry. I thought I had my brother's trailer,” I said, stepping down the two-step metal stair. I'd never personally met the actress that answered the door, but it was impossible not to recognize Claudia Miller after her sexy Rolling Stone cover. Her signature curly, golden hair was wet from a shower. I didn’t know she was in this movie.
Did I come to the wrong trailer? I'd never done that before.
Claudia straightened her blouse and stepped down the short flight, letting the door carelessly swing closed behind her. She walked past me without turning back and wore a smug, satisfied smile. “You do.”
Leaning to the side, I checked the outside of the door. The white tape strip, they used to mark all the trailers, was sharpied with the words Stunts Frost. I shook my head and pulled open the door. Of course I had the right trailer.
“What took you so long? I'm starved, man!” Frost was shirtless and half laying on the couch. He was still wet from the shower too.
“I got caught up.” I slid both food containers across the small counter by entrance and closed the door behind me. Where I prided myself on my on-set professionalism, Frost was the complete opposite. “I see you did too.”
I had no idea how he got away with half the shit he did.
Frost offered up a casual, guilty-as-charged shrug, then reached for his food. With his longer, layered hair and trim, tattoo-less swimmer's body Frost looked more like a surfer than anything. The thing that always got me when I saw him shirtless was his lack of scars. For a man who set himself on fire at least once a week professionally, it blew my mind that his body was utterly unmarked.
I was both impressed and a little irritated by that, if I was being honest.
“I have no idea how you can do that,” I leaned against the counter and worked the plastic knife and fork through my now lukewarm bacon-wrapped filet mignon. “Did Dad not teach you anything?”
“What are you talking about?” Frost objected loudly through a mouth full of food. He chewed, waving his plastic fork around long before swallowing to finish his point. “Before he met Lucy, Dad did this all the time! Hell, that's how he met her.”
“Remind me. What happened to them?” I asked gravely.
Frost grimaced from the verbal sucker punch, then glanced away. He knew better than to answer. Instead, he drained half a bottle of water and decided to change the subject. “Any word from Keats?”
“Me? What do you think?” I scoffed with dismissive sarcasm. In a family of black sheep, our brother, Keats, made us look like fluffy white lambs by comparison. “Last I heard he was somewhere in the Midwest crashing cars in whatever's left of that thrill show.”
Keats was always distant, but took Dad's death the hardest and hasn't talked to any of us since. Frost hoped that the tragedy would bring Keats back into the family the same way it did for me. I wasn’t nearly as optimistic, especially since I inherited everything from our father, much of which Keats felt he had a claim to. I reached out a few times telling Keats he could have whatever he wanted, but the only response I ever got was for me to go fuck myself.
“Don’t write him off just yet.” Frost smirked despite his mouth being full, making him look like a mischievous blow fish. His light, carefree tone quickly returned. “After all, even you came back from…wherever the fuck you were. Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”
“Don’t go holding your breath, Frost.” The stabbing pain in my conscience forced me to look away. I hadn’t become as close with Frost as I’d have liked to these past few years. A small part of me always knew that things would go south and I’d have to disappear so I kept a little distance. “Sometimes you have to just let people go.”
“What’s going on with you, Dracula?” Frost’s eyes narrowed over the top of the Styrofoam container as he shoveled the last few spoons of rice in to his mouth. “You get anymore broody and you’ll make Keats jealous. “
“It’s this girl I’m training.” I changed the subject before Frost pressed further. For as bad as I felt for leaving Frost when I was done with Autumn, I knew that it was the right thing to do. It would get so much worse for the people I cared about if Mitch caught ever up to me. He would use them as leverage to get me back.
“What about her?” Frost asked, drinking the last of his water. Frost could see it on my face somehow. For someone as inwardly focused as Frost, he could be surprisingly perceptive on occasion. His concern fell away to raised eyebrows and the creased lips of a budding smirk. “She's cute. Are you—”
Then he's got to go and ruin it.
“You know I'm not.” I cut him off too quickly to maintain my passive reserve. I gave up on the useless plastic cutlery and took the round cut of steak in my hand. I sank into the plush couch opposite him, laid my ankle on my knee in an easy figure four position and draped my arm along the top of the headrest. Still, I couldn't get comfortable. Glancing out the window, I thought of Autumn.
Frost leaned forward, propping his elbows onto his knees and studied my face with intense skepticism, then loudly cleared his throat.
“Any more.” I relented, tearing into the juicy steak like an apple. “I didn’t know I’d be working with her again.”
“Completely innocent mistake. You nailed her by total accident.” Frost shrugged. Content, he leaned back into his couch and put his hands behind his head, smiling. It was the annoying small victories that siblings reveled in.
“Either way, that’s not the issue.” I raised an eyebrow, glaring at him. Then I finished the steak and reined the conversation back on topic. “It's her training.”
“So, what's the deal? She dragging her feet?” He asked, only now focusing on what was important because he'd won a game I wasn't playing. “I got three days in Scotland next week for the new James Bond, but after that I'm free if you need a hand.”
“Two people yelling at her aren’t going to help anything.” Wiping my face with a napkin, I made my way to the trailer's sink to clean up.
“I wasn't going to yell at her, Professor Snape.” Frost chuckled, shaking his head. “You and I train much differently.”
“Clearly.” I dried my hands and cocked my head toward the door the actress left by. Frost wore a proud-almost-beaming smile at being called out for his indiscretions. “My actress is off limits.”
Frost put up his hands in proud mock surrender.
I placed a hand on the wall and looked out the window at all the industry veterans rushing around. There was a method to their madness. They understood and embraced the chaos, they thrived in it. Autumn would be lucky to survive it all.
“Autumn doesn't belong here, Frost.” I felt a pang of regret as my conscience tried to claw out of the mound of justifications I buried it under. The girl was in way over her head, but what could I do about that? I needed her to be ready just as much as the studio did.
“She hopeless?” He picked at his teeth
“She's not hopeless. She's works hard and technically she's learning the skills. Given six months I could make her into a force to be reckoned with. I need to give her the appropriate foundation, layer in her skills—fuck there’s so much she needs to learn.” I tapped lightly on the trailer wall with my fist, irritated that the studio didn't give me the time I needed to make any of this work.
Autumn had to be screen ready within the month. Most actors had six times that amount of lead before a project started. And those actors were typically seasoned from years in the industry, not completely green like Autumn. Autumn didn't have to just become a stuntwoman, as if that wasn't hard enough, but also a real actress as well.
What we were doing wasn't just difficult, it was borderline impossible. I felt like I was bashing my head against a wall here for all the difference it was making.
“The passion isn't there for her.” I turned back to Frost. “She's not like us.”
“No shit. Not many people are, man.” Frost grinned, satisfied with his own superiority. He had a habit of missing the forest for the trees. “That's why we get the work.”
“That's not what I mean. It feels like she's here because she has to be not because she wants to be.” I didn't like being vague, but this was difficult to quantify. A lack of conviction always bled into the camera. And studio executives were trained to smell blood. Frost knew that better than most. “There's no way she's going to be ready in time. Autumn's nowhere near where I need her to be. Hell, the girl doesn't even have her driver’s license.”
“Wow, really?” Frost’s head snapped back in disbelief. “And you’re teaching her flying nineties and one-eighties. Ha!”
“I—” I exhaled sharply, organizing my thoughts. “I don't know if I can do this.”
Frost's eyebrows scrunched together, forming a deep, surprised V. He could see the uncertainty written across my face. Maybe that was the real reason I came here? I needed a place to vent.
And Frost was all I had.
When people put their lives literally in my hands, they were counting on me to always be in control with everything I did. So much of my career rode on my reputation for being confident under every circumstance. That lie inevitably bled into all aspects of my life. I could never fully open up to anyone because of that. If word got out that I took on a job I couldn't handle... That was it. All that trust was gone.
I’d never get another call again.
“Aright. Let's break this down. We can figure this out.” Frost cleaned his hands off, rubbed them together and blew on them. “How're you training her?”
“You know how I train people. I trained you.”
“Oh.” Frost scoffed, hanging his head for a moment before looking back up at me with a shit-eating grin. “So like an asshole drill sergeant then? No wonder she can’t keep up.”
I let my narrowing eyes speak for me.
“Training with you was a fucking nightmare and that was when we were kids, before you left. You're always so goddamn intense, Dante. Even back then. We mere mortals can't be pushed as hard as you push yourself, man.” He wore an easy smile. “How bout—crazy idea—you try backing off.”
“C'mon. You know I don't have the time for kid gloves.” Talking with my brother could be so exhausting sometimes. I rubbed my suddenly aching eyes. “We've barely covered the basics, let alone falls and weapons training. We haven't even started most of her fight choreo. If anything, I need to push harder.”
“Hold up.” Frost raised a hand for emphasis. “In what universe do you actually see that working?”
Peaking over my hands, I looked at him, but remained silent.
“I'm serious, man. Your way isn't working, so you're going to do what? The same thing, but more of it?” Frost chuckled easily, then stood up and stretched. “How does that make any sense?”
“Fine.” I exhaled all the air I had in one long burst and humored him. “What would you do?”
“Take a day off.” He opened his hands as if presenting a cornucopia of wisdom. “Do something entertaining. Maybe go see a movie. Not one of ours though, something animated and fun.”
“Dammit, Frost.” I glared at him. My little brother was chronically—frustratingly—lax about everything. “This is serious. Stop fucking around.”
“I'm not!” Frost laughed, falling carelessly back into his sofa. “Listen. There's no way to teach her if you don't know anything about her. You can't open a Starbucks without knowing which pretentious-ass coffee to sell and to do that you need to know your customers. You said she doesn't have a passion for this, right? So find out what she is passionate about.”
“I'm not her high school psychologist, Frost. I'm her trainer and her coordinator. I don't want to know her. I just want her to know the material.” I was already thinking about Autumn too much as it was. Ever since saving her on set and the night on the boat I couldn't get her out of my head. I even gave her my parent's bedroom; something I would never do for anyone.
If anything I needed to distance myself from her more.
Never get involved with the people you work with. It's just too dangerous. It makes you sloppy. What happened to Dad was always fresh in my mind.
“Hey.” Frost tossed his hands up in a defeated gesture then scratched his head. “If you're not going to hear me out then why did you even bother coming?”
I sighed, closing my eyes. Was I too close to this, to her, to think straight?
“Alright. I'm listening.” I glanced over at him, a begrudging smirk marring my face. “You are such an incredible pain in the ass.”
“We all have our talents.” Frost rolled his hand forward and bowed his head. Then, to my surprise, he took on a more serious tone. “I don’t understand why you feel the need to keep everyone at arm's length. But I’m telling you that's not going to work this time. Not with her. You said it yourself. She's not like us, so don't treat her that way. If she's not invested in you, then she won’t be invested in what you're trying to teach her. You have to take the time and actually figure this girl out.”
“You’re serious?” It was more of a realization than a question.
“You're in an impossible situation, Dante.” Frost shook his head slowly. “Maybe you need an impossible solution?”
“So what your telling me—” I carefully considered what he was saying, recapping it all in my mind. “Is to stop training my client and take her out on a date.”
“Yup.”