EXT. STUDIO LOT. DAY.
Holly drove into the studio parking lot and turned off her car. She got out and smoothed the top of her hair as she started walking, moving away from the Homestead set and towards the sound stage across the street. She reached the side entrance and opening the metal door, went in.
It felt very different in this set then it did on the open air one of her show. The ceiling was very high and the floor concrete and it felt dirtier and more barren. Inside, she realized how huge the building really was. And it felt bizarre to see film sets just standing in the middle of open space, surrounded by concrete floor and equipment.
“Excuse me.” A security guard standing on one side of the door, held up his hand. “I’m going to have to see some ID.”
“Oh,” Holly dug around in her purse and pulled out her studio ID. “Here.”
The guard checked it and then handed it back, satisfied.
“Actually, I’m looking for Peter Glades,” said Holly. “You don’t know where he is in here do you?”
“I think they’re filming,” said the guard pointing towards the far side of the building.
“Thanks.” Holly walked away in the direction the man had indicated. She did pass scattered groups of people, but as she neared the back it seemed that a large portion of cast and crew had their attention focused on a set built at the end of the building.
As she stood on tiptoes to look over the heads of the crowd, she guessed the set was supposed to be of a space ship but it was hard to tell, there was a lot of silver and metal and large buttons but she could also see something in the middle which looked suspiciously like a kitchen island.
Holly tapped a nearby crew member on the shoulder. “Excuse me; I’m looking for Peter Glades?”
“He’s filming. You can wait for him over there though. That’s his chair; he’ll head over when there’s a break.”
Holly walked over towards the indicated area. There was a foldout chair set up, a shoulder bag on the floor next to it and a script sitting on the seat. She picked up the script so she could sit down and then glanced at the title: Crocodiles in Space.
Peter had been so disparaging about it, Holly couldn’t resist her curiosity. She flipped it open to page one.
EXT. SPACE. NIGHT.
A lone astronaut floats in space alongside a derelict ship. The only man with any dignity in this whole movie. He dies in one page and doesn’t have to suffer through the next 98.
Holly stared for a moment at the comment that had been written in with pencil and then gave a burst of laughter.
She flicked forward in the script.
What have we done?
You came up with a completely stupid and obvious-to-fail plan while getting several people killed and destroying government property? Other than that, not much.
Holly clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to soften the noise of her laugh. As she skimmed through the pages she saw most of them had pencil notes scrawled in the margins and most of them were fairly snarky.
“I get bored sometimes.”
Holly looked up surprised, dropping the script on the floor. Peter was standing a few feet away. He was dressed in a short sleeved jumpsuit; the chest of the suit was black and the sleeves and pants a very shiny silver. Holly tried to resist the temptation to laugh again.
Peter himself smiled and held out his arms. “Apparently this is the military uniform of the future. Not sure what the logic is. Maybe when the countries of earth joined together they wanted a completely unique uniform that had no similarity to any armies of the past and this is all they could come up with? I can honestly think of no other reasoning behind it. Camouflage purposes are obviously out of the question.”
“It is…futuristic,” said Holly.
“Yes it is. The kind of futuristic you see in 50’s space movies.”
“Like the set over there?”
“Yes. That’s supposed to be the deck of our space ship.”
“And the kitchen island?”
“Oh.” There was a brief lapse in the conversation and feeling a little awkward, Holly bent down and picked up the script off the floor. “Sorry if I was prying, I just got curious if it really was as bad as you’ve said.”
“It’s no problem.” Peter came nearer and took it from her. “Sometimes I get overwhelmed by the stupidity and write sarcastic comments into my script. It’s a way to vent.” He pulled a bottle of water out from the bag on the floor and took a drink. Holly got the sense he was trying to avoid eye contact.
“Peter I need to talk to you.”
He sighed and recapped the water bottle. “I guess you finally Googled me.”
“Actually I talked to Evelyn.”
“Even better. She can give you the insider’s gossip on it.” Peter sat down, his face grim. “Well now you know. I probably should apologize for not telling you before I went to the party with you on Friday.”
“I understand why you didn’t,” said Holly. “It can’t be easy for you to discuss Layla. Look Peter I came over here today because…well I wanted to make sure you knew that I still want you to be my friend. And I thought you might not know that.”
Peter blinked. “You’re not angry? Or…” He searched for the words, “Righteously indignant at what I might have done?” he asked, a little sarcastically.
“I don’t know what you did,” admitted Holly, “And I don’t know what you didn’t do. Evelyn told me everything and how could I even being to have a theory? I didn’t know you then, I only know you now. And I don’t think it would be fair for me to make a decision either way on whether you’re guilty or not. The jury cleared you and I’m good with that. You came to the party on Friday because I needed a friend, even though you probably knew it was going to be difficult for you. You’ve helped me get used to the studio and you’ve been someone I could talk to as well as helping me with McCall. I don’t know what happened five years ago and I don’t think as far as you and I go that it’s very important.” She held out her hand to him. “I just want to be friends.”
Peter sat there a moment looking up at her, his expression unreadable. Then with a smile which Holly couldn’t tell was sincere or not, he took her hand and shook it. “I would like that too.”