“Sorry, Mark, something came up. Give us a few more minutes. Ryan will be downstairs soon.”
Hearing the manager repeat essentially the same excuse over the phone, Mark Anderson ended the call with a dark expression.
He and Paul Stevens had already been sitting outside the hotel far longer than the production schedule could tolerate, while the rest of the crew was waiting nearly an hour away at the Martha’s Vineyard location.
“What did he say?” Paul asked.
“He says Ryan will be down soon.”
“Soon?” Paul nearly laughed from anger.
“They’ve told us that at least ten times. I’d bet money the guy hasn’t even gotten out of bed.”
His phone suddenly vibrated.
Paul glanced at the message, and his annoyed expression slowly transformed into a cold smile before he handed the screen to Mark.
“Apparently our hardworking leading man attended a private hotel party last night and went back upstairs with someone afterward. Nobody’s seen him leave his room yet.”
Paul had deliberately maintained a good relationship with several hotel employees after arranging Ryan’s accommodation.
He hadn’t expected to learn anything useful from it, but the information explained why their leading actor had ignored repeated calls that morning.
Mark stared at the message for several seconds, and his already poor mood became considerably worse.
“Unbelievable.” Paul shook his head.
“Party all night if you want. I don’t care what he does when he’s off the clock. But if call time is seven in the morning, the entire crew shouldn’t be losing half a shooting day because he couldn’t get out of bed.”
Mark didn’t answer.
He simply opened the car door and stepped outside.
“Come on. We’re going upstairs.”
They entered the hotel and spoke with the front desk manager, explaining that Ryan was a contracted actor who had repeatedly failed to respond despite a production vehicle waiting for him.
After the hotel called the room and still received no useful response, a staff member accompanied them upstairs rather than simply giving them unrestricted access.
Mark reached Ryan’s door and pressed the bell.
Movement sounded from inside.
Someone approached the door, hesitated, and apparently moved away again.
Mark rang a second time before knocking firmly.
“Ryan, open the door. We have an entire crew waiting.”
“Coming!”
Several moments later, the door opened only partway and Ryan’s manager appeared, obviously flustered.
“Mark? Why did you come upstairs? We were literally about to head down.”
“Move.”
Paul pushed past him before Mark could stop him, and the manager stumbled aside in surprise.
Mark followed with a grim expression, immediately noticing clothes scattered across the floor, room-service trays, glasses, and the unmistakable remains of a very late night.
The bathroom door opened a moment later.
Ryan Cole stepped out wearing a hotel robe while drying his wet hair with a towel.
The instant he noticed Mark and Paul inside, surprise flashed across his face before turning into anger.
“What the hell are you doing in my room? Who said you could come in here?”
A woman emerged behind him and looked between the unexpected visitors with confusion.
“Ryan, who are these people?”
Paul let out a humorless laugh.
“The people whose entire shooting schedule you’ve been holding hostage all morning. Nice to see you’re well rested.”
“That’s none of your business.” Ryan pointed toward the door.
“Get out. This is my private room.”
Paul’s temper flared immediately.
“Your private life stopped being our problem the second you made a hundred people wait because you couldn’t show up for work.”
“You—”
Paul stepped forward, but Mark caught his arm before the argument escalated any further.
He glanced briefly toward the woman, then fixed Ryan with a steady stare.
“You have ten minutes. Be downstairs and ready to leave.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened.
Mark didn’t wait for an answer.
He turned and walked out with Paul following behind him.
The moment the elevator doors closed, Paul started cursing.
“This guy is unbelievable. First he demands a luxury hotel, then he stays up partying and makes the whole production wait. Now he acts like we’re the problem because we came looking for him.”
“When we get downstairs, speak with hotel management. Tell them production property may have been misplaced during last night’s event and ask them to preserve whatever common-area security footage they have.”
Paul immediately understood.
Hotels generally weren’t going to hand private surveillance recordings to anyone who walked up and asked, but management could review or preserve footage from public areas such as hallways, elevators, and the lobby if there was a legitimate incident connected to a guest or production.
If they needed the material later, there were proper ways to request it.
Paul grinned.
“Got it.”
When the elevator reached the lobby, he headed toward the manager’s desk while Mark returned to the production vehicle and waited.
Nearly twenty minutes passed before Ryan finally emerged from the hotel wearing clean clothes and sunglasses, his manager following close behind.
Ryan climbed into the vehicle and slammed the door without greeting anyone.
Mark ignored him.
Several minutes later, Paul came outside and took the passenger seat.
Mark gave him a questioning glance, and Paul answered with nothing more than a small smile and a nod.
That was enough.
Mark started the engine and drove toward the set.
By the time they reached the shooting location, nearly an hour later, the morning had effectively disappeared and the crew was preparing for lunch.
Mark had no intention of making dozens of people work hungry simply because Ryan had wasted their scheduled shooting time, so he told the production team to break for food before they attempted the afternoon scenes.
Ryan never bothered leaving the vehicle.
His manager collected his specially ordered meal and carried it back to him while everyone else ate together near the temporary production area.
Mark saw it happening but chose not to react.
At this point, getting usable footage mattered more than winning an argument.
Once lunch ended, the crew reset and Mark finally called everyone together.
The scene scheduled for that afternoon was one of the important early sequences in Jaws.
After young Alex Kintner is killed by the shark, Amity’s terrified and angry residents gather for a town meeting while Police Chief Martin Brody attempts to address the danger and the consequences of closing the beaches.
The sequence needed to establish the conflict between public safety and a resort town economically dependent on summer tourism before Quint entered the story with his offer to kill the shark.
It was also an ensemble sequence involving a large number of performers.
Because they were filming on Martha’s Vineyard, Paul and the casting team had recruited local supporting performers and background actors to fill out the meeting, something that fit the production’s limited budget and helped the fictional Amity community feel authentic.
Mark had spent time blocking everyone carefully so that the room would feel crowded and restless without turning into uncontrolled noise.
The cameras rolled.
The supporting performers did surprisingly well.
Ryan did not.
“Cut.”
Mark reset the scene.
They tried again.
Ryan lost his place halfway through his dialogue.
Another take.
He forgot a line.
Another.
He responded too late to another actor’s cue and forced the whole exchange to stop.
By the tenth failed attempt, several background performers were quietly exchanging looks while the crew’s patience wore thin.
Ryan had known about the scene for days, and none of the mistakes involved complicated emotional direction or difficult physical action.
He simply had not learned his material.
Mark gave him one final chance.
The camera rolled.
Ryan made it barely halfway through before stopping again.
“Uh… hold on. What’s the next—”
“CUT!”
Mark shot to his feet so suddenly that his director’s chair tipped backward and crashed onto the floor.
The entire set went silent.
Mark stared at Ryan across the room, anger finally breaking through the restraint he had maintained for the past several days.
“If you can act, then act. If you can’t, get off my set!”
Ryan froze.
Being humiliated in front of the cast and crew instantly turned his embarrassment into anger.
“What kind of directing is this? You throw me into the scene and expect me to magically know exactly what you want!”
Mark stepped toward him.
“I told you I need more preparation!”
“You had the script before we left Los Angeles.”
Ryan’s face reddened.
“So what? Maybe explain the damn scene properly instead of screaming at people!”
Mark kept walking toward him, and Ryan unconsciously took half a step backward.
Mark was taller, broader, and currently angry enough that the actor’s earlier confidence visibly weakened, although he immediately tried to cover it.
“What?” Ryan snapped.
“You planning to hit me now? Go ahead. Hit me.”
Mark stopped.
Unfortunately, Paul didn’t.
“You arrogant son of a—”
Paul rushed past Mark before anyone realized what he was doing and drove a fist into Ryan’s face.
Ryan collapsed onto the floor with a shout.
Chaos exploded across the set.
Ryan’s manager screamed and lunged forward while several crew members grabbed Paul before he could throw another punch.
Background performers scattered away from the confrontation, production assistants rushed between the two sides, and within seconds the carefully organized town-hall set had turned into complete disorder.
“He assaulted him!” Ryan’s manager shouted while pulling out his phone.
“I’m calling the police!”
Mark finally recovered from the shock and grabbed Paul by the shoulder.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“He asked for it!”
“That doesn’t mean you actually hit him!”
Ryan remained on the floor groaning loudly while his manager called for law enforcement.
Mark stared at the disaster surrounding him and rubbed a hand over his face.
He just wanted to make a movie.
Why did that have to be so difficult?
Local officers arrived not long afterward.
After separating everyone and speaking with witnesses, they took Paul away to document what had happened and obtain a formal statement, while Mark also went with them because he had witnessed the confrontation from only a few feet away.
Ryan claimed he felt dizzy after the punch and requested medical attention, so he was taken to a hospital for evaluation.
Fortunately, Paul had thrown only one punch before the crew restrained him.
Ryan’s examination found no serious injury, although the absence of major injuries didn’t magically erase the fact that Paul had hit him.
Ryan insisted on making a formal complaint.
Mark had never touched anyone, so after giving his account and answering the officers’ questions, he was allowed to leave.
Paul’s situation was more complicated; officers still needed to finish processing the incident and determine what would happen next, so he remained behind for the time being.
That worried Mark far more than the ruined afternoon.
Paul had thrown the punch because Ryan had been provoking him and making Mark’s production miserable.
No matter how stupid the decision had been, Mark wasn’t going to abandon his friend and pretend it had nothing to do with him.
He left the station and headed directly to the hospital.
Ryan was resting in a private treatment room with his manager beside him.
An officer handling follow-up information was nearby, and after Mark asked to speak with Ryan, the manager eventually allowed him inside.
The moment Mark entered, Ryan suddenly began holding the side of his head.
“Ow… damn. My head is killing me.”
His manager stormed toward Mark.
“Look at what your assistant director did! He attacked our client in front of an entire crew. Do you have any idea how serious that is? Silverline Pictures is going to hear from our attorney, and this production is finished.”
Mark didn’t argue.
He simply reached into his pocket and took out his phone.
“I was sent something from last night.”
Ryan’s expression changed slightly.
Mark opened a video file, turned the screen toward the manager, and calmly held out the phone.
“Take a look.”
(End of Chapter 7)
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