S2, Ep 7, Sc 3: The Trailer

Holly leaned against the hitching post and watched as the scene filmed across the street. From this distance she couldn’t hear the words but it was just enjoyable to watch the actors walk up and down, gesturing to each other. She heard Walsh call something out which caused them to reset the scene from the beginning and start over.

“Holly?”

She turned around and saw Evelyn standing a few feet away looking confident but serious. Holly gave a small wave and tried to smile.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” said Holly, “I’m sorry I lost my temper at the party-”

“No dear,” interrupted Evelyn. “It was my fault. You were very right. I shouldn’t have invited Eleanor to the party. It was your day and I should have known how you’d feel about it. I just thought you should meet her.”

Holly sighed. “I wish you could understand at least why I’m not sure what I want to do yet about Ian’s offer. I do appreciate the fact Victor could help me with my career and an agent is the next logical step.”

“Then why don’t you take it?”

“I don’t know.” Holly shook her head. “Six months ago I would have. But I’m happy here on Homestead. And I’m not sure…when I’m with Alan, I’ve seen part of what it’s like to be a big star. The photographers and the fans; just everything and it’s huge. And I’m just not sure I’d be happy with it. I get some of it as it is, the paparazzi and the tabloids just because I’m with him, and I’m fine with that. But I don’t know that I want it all. I like this set, I like working here, I like the people. I just don’t know if I’m interested anymore in doing what it takes to become…bigger.”

Evelyn came closer and took hold of Holly’s hand and patted it kindly. “I’m afraid I can’t understand dear. And I’m concerned that you’re going to stay just for Alan, and you know he won’t stay around forever. He signed on for an extra year because of you but he’s going to want to move on to other projects soon.”

“It’s not just about Alan,” said Holly, “I just-“ She sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly. “I just don’t know what I want right now. It’s confusing and you’re just not helping it. I know,” she added quickly, “That you’re trying to help and you’re doing it for the right reasons. But it’s honestly just making me feel worse about it.”

Evelyn sighed. “I hope I didn’t ruin your party at any rate.”

“Not at all,” said Holly, smiling. “And it means the world to me that you organized it for me in the first place.”

Evelyn leaned forward and hugged her. “Well I won’t pretend to understand where you’re coming from. But I will agree to lay off a little bit.”

“Thank you.”

They turned to look back towards the filming. “They should be done soon shouldn’t they?” asked Evelyn.

“Yes. Alan and I are going to grab some lunch afterwards. Would you like to come?”

“No thank you. But I appreciate the offer. And it looks like Walsh just shouted cut. Here comes Alan.”

**********

Peter’s ID got him onto the studio lot easily. He avoided the parking lot closest to the Homestead set and instead parked outside a prop storage unit: it would be easier if Alan, Holly or Evelyn didn’t spot him. He took a winding route towards the side of the Homestead set with the trailers.

Somewhere in the back of his head a voice was telling him he was on dangerous territory but he ignored it. What did he really have to lose? If he got caught and word got out, he might lose what was left of his career, if you could call it that anymore, but he’d reached the point of not caring. Holly would probably be shocked and he wouldn’t have an explanation for her she’d accept, but then again if things continued the way they were their friendship wouldn’t last. She was with Alan. She was seriously with Alan. And Peter couldn’t just pretend that was alright.

He reached the trailers and made his way through them, until he spotted the one with Alan’s name written across the door. He knocked loudly and waited. There was no response. He glanced around him, and tried the handle. It was locked.

He pulled out his wallet and took out the credit card. Again checking no one was nearby, he slipped it into the gap between the door and doorjamb and pushed the door in, tilting the card from side to side, slipping it past the lock.

He felt the handle give and pushed opened the door. He looked around once more and then went inside.

The trailer was large, divided into two sections, a sitting area and a kitchen area. In the kitchen area, Peter grabbed a sheet of paper off of the fridge. It was a shooting schedule. He checked his watch and then checked the list. Alan should be busy for another fifteen minutes.

He put the paper back under the magnet holding it, and turned to examine the room. What could he ensure Alan would have touched and no one else would have?

He glanced in the sink but it was empty. Any of the papers on the fridge or side tables had probably been handed to Alan. He needed something with one set of prints on it, a set which would obviously have to belong to Alan. Something that Alan could believe he had lost.

Peter headed into the sitting area and look around. There was a small table with vase of flowers on top. He doubted Alan had placed them there himself. There was a book lying on a small couch. That was a possibility. There was a telephone, Alan’s prints would undoubtedly be on those but he definitely wouldn’t believe he had misplaced that.

Peter sat down in a small armchair and looked around the room. There were books, scripts, in one corner a small TV, some DVDs…and a remote. He grinned.

“People are always misplacing remotes.”  He stood up, pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket. He carefully wrapped it around the controller, careful not to touch it and slipped it into a small plastic bag he had brought along. He placed the bag into his breast pocket and straightened up. He happened to glance out the window and then swore. He could see Alan and Holly walking towards the trailer.

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This entry was posted in Episode Seven, Evelyn Martin, Holly Woods, Peter Glades, Season Two and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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