Cherry Bomb (A Michael Fassbender Fanfic)

17: Bitter Beans

Getting to the studio was an event. Michael had apparently forgotten to add me to the list of names allowed on set. After about forty minutes of waiting by the entrance to the lot, I thought about just leaving and going back to the hotel. It was embarrassing, watching people pass by showing their passes with no problems whatsoever. It got awkward. The security guard, George, was a sweetheart though. He was old enough to be my father, had an impressive protruding beer-belly, and was balding on top, the spot like a sandpit surrounded by white hair. He seemed to believe me, that I'd been invited by Michael Fassbender. Now if Michael would just fricking call him and let him know...

Finally, the phone rang and George picked it up. "Ah, yes. Okay, great. Yes, she's still here. I'll issue her the temp pass for now. You're welcome sir. You, too."

I held my breath, waiting for him to hang up.

"Alrighty, sweetheart," he looks at me after placing the phone back in the cradle. Handing me a pass on a lanyard, he explains he needs it back before I leave the lot. "Enjoy your visit! I'm sorry it took so long. It must be a busy day for them on the set."

I thanked him and promised to return the pass. He gave me a piece of paper containing a map of the different sets. The studio was one gigantic lot with multiple buildings and sets. With a pen, he marked a path for me to follow to the correct set.

"I'd offer to drive you back there, but Tim is on his lunch break right now. Sorry, sweetheart. Will you be okay?"

"Of course. Thank you, George. I appreciate it." Taking my map, I left the security office with determination, memorizing the route.

I had to back track, passing the same western scene a few times until I found the right direction. I was already annoyed having to wait for permission, and now I kept getting lost. Today wasn't going so well.

Eventually, I found the correct building that George had circled for me. I wasn't sure which door to enter. None of them were marked with anything other than the number 32. I went ahead and cracked open the door nearest me, peeking in before opening it further. Again there was nothing to confirm I was in the correct location. Nothing but a long and dark hall, lined with red rope lights near the floor. Being sure not to slam the door behind me, I let it close softly with a gentle click before heading down the hall.

Walking into the main area, I passed several other people who gave me strange looks, reminding me I didn't belong here. I just smiled and acted like I knew where I was going. I honestly had no idea.

I could hear someone with a very bossy tone talking to someone else. As I neared, I saw Michael. His arms were crossed over his chest and his chin was raised, listening to whoever this bossy guy is. Remembering the stories Michael told me about clashing with the director, I figured this must be him. He sounded almost like he was scolding Michael. I stayed back, not wanting to interfere.

Standing behind a row of directors chairs with a small group of people wearing badges and headsets, I gave Michael a little wave when I saw his eyes wander my direction. He looked away and I wasn't sure if he even saw me. My heart sunk, hurt. It was dark, though. I pushed the feeling away.

"We're never going to finish this damn scene," I heard a lady next to me utter.

"What's going on?" I bravely asked.

The small group looked at me with surprise, then each of them covered their mouths with a finger, signaling me to keep quiet.

The woman closest to me leaned in. Covering the microphone of her head set, she whispered to me, "Michael is doing exactly what Kevin wants, but for some reason, it isn't good enough. It's been like this for weeks and it's getting old."