The Los Angeles office of Fantasy Pictures felt smaller after the weeks at camp. The clutter of invoices, receipts, and contracts had replaced the cables, rigs, and prop sheets.
Linda sat behind her desk, ledger open, phone wedged against her ear. "Yes, that's two Econolines and two Dodge Sportsmans, all returned. Full tank, no damages. Mileage already logged." She paused, listening, then jotted a figure. "Yes, charge it to Fantasy Pictures."
She hung up, rubbed her temple, and moved to the next stack.
James stood near the filing cabinet with a pile of contracts. "That's the last of the crew checks. Extras are covered. Betsy's fee went out this morning."
Linda went through another folder. "Camera rental deposit gets released once Panavision signs off on the inspection. Should be by Friday."
James exhaled. "And then, just like that, everyone's free."
Linda gave him a smile. "That's the deal. You wrangle them, pay them, they scatter. We just make sure no one comes back waving a missing invoice."
Linda sat behind her desk with the ledger open, papers stacked in neat columns. James leaned over her shoulder, pencil in hand.
"Initial budget was four hundred thousand," James said, tapping the top line.
Linda nodded. "Cast salaries, Fifty Two thousand. Crew, Sixty Eight. Gear and props, Fifty on dot."
James flipped a page. "Shooting expenses food, transport, rentals came to one hundred Seven."
She drew a line at the bottom. "Leaves us one hundred twenty three thousand. Clean."
James let out a slow breath. "Not bad."
Linda closed the ledger with a firm snap. "And everything balances. No unpaid receipts."
James lifted one of the canisters, setting it on the desk. "This one goes to CFI. Negative master. I'm having them strike two positive copies one for editing, one for backup. Plus a synced magnetic tape for sound. It'll take about forty-eight hours."
Linda jotted it down. "So we're grounded until then."
James nodded. "Exactly. Once you close today's calls, take the next two days off. No reason for both of us to sit here waiting."
"Two days off?
He hauled the canister under his arm, shrugged into his jacket, and paused at the door. "Keep the phones moving. Anything that can close today, close it."
Linda waved her pencil at the pile in front of her. "Consider it buried with me."
The office door shut behind him, leaving only the typewriter's steady rhythm in the quiet.
The first morning, he woke late, sunlight already cutting across his apartment blinds. He stayed in bed longer than he meant to, drifting in and out until the sound of the cars finally pushed him up. Breakfast was nothing but cold cereal and potato chips. He didn't care.
The day stretched out, He sprawled on the couch with the newspaper, flipping through headlines about inflation, sports scores, and Carter's approval ratings. It was ordinary, and after weeks of camping in the woods filming, it felt almost luxurious.
By the afternoon, he found himself at a matinee downtown a double feature, the kind of B-movies he once would've skipped. he sat through every bit with a bucket of popcorn in his lap, enjoying the fact that for once, he wasn't behind the camera.
That evening, he wandered into a small neighborhood bar, nursing a single beer while a jukebox churned out Fleetwood Mac.
The second day started the same late wake-up, snacks for breakfast, the TV running Old sitcom reruns, daytime talk, static-filled commercial, but he found himself watching anyway.
In the afternoon, he finally picked up the phone and called his aunt. He hadn't spoken to her in months, too wrapped up in the company and the shoot. She was surprised to hear from him, and more surprised when he said, simply:
"I shot a movie."
There was a pause, then a warmth in her voice he hadn't heard in years.They talked for nearly an Ten minutes. just catching up, her asking if he was eating right.
When he hung up, James leaned back in his chair, strangely lighter.
That night, as he stretched across the couch, his thoughts drifted to what lay ahead splicing reels, syncing sound, long nights bent over machines.
He remembered playback monitors, instant replays on set, the luxury of reviewing a take seconds after calling cut. Here, all they had were dailies, reels processed overnight, waiting in canisters.
He thought about non-linear editing, digital timelines, dragging clips with a mouse. Now, every cut would be physical film strips measured, trimmed, and spliced by hand. Syncing sound would mean aligning magnetic tape with sprockets, not a click.
Even color. In future, sliders on a screen here, it was chemistry in a lab.
James leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "No shortcuts," he muttered.
And for two days, he let himself rest.
when James unlocked the office door. He wasn't surprised to find Linda already inside, perched on the edge of her desk with a soda can in hand.
"Look who finally decided to show up," she said, smirking.
James dropped his jacket over a chair. "It's nine-thirty. That counts as early after two days off."
She rolled her eyes. "I was up at six. Habit. Couldn't even sleep in right."
"I managed," James said. "Slept till noon yesterday. Then munched on a family-sized bag of chips while watching cartoons."
Linda laughed, shaking her head. "Real adult behavior."
"You?" James asked, leaning against the filing cabinet.
"Did laundry. Watched a music concert with my roommate. Called my sister, which apparently made her think I was dying."
"Normal life," James said. "Feels weird, doesn't it?"
"A little," Linda admitted. She set the empty can on her desk. "But nice."
James nodded, then glanced at the two heavy canisters sitting by the filing cabinet. He patted the lid of the top one. "Well, break's over. Positives came back this morning."
Linda leaned forward, curious but not touching. "So what happens now?"
James grinned a little. "Now? We get to hear how bad everyone actually sounded. And then we figure out how to make it scarier with strings, squeaks, and buckets of fake noises."
"Sounds glamorous," Linda deadpanned.
"Better than freezing in the woods."
She smirked. "Debatable."
James tugged a chair over, pulling the canisters closer. "Either way, we're in it. Time to turn a pile of reels into a movie."
Linda stretched, picking up her notebook again. "Guess vacation's over."
"Yeah," he said softly. "Back to work."