Owen's alarm went off at 5:45 a.m.
After he got ready, he went down to the hotel lobby, where the smell of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bread mixed with the low murmur of other guests.
At one of the tables, Tom was absorbed in reading a few pages, probably the day's script.
"Morning," greeted Owen, sitting across from him.
Tom looked up and nodded with a faint smile. "Good morning, Owen."
"Going over lines?" asked Owen, stirring his tea with a spoon.
"Yeah, just reviewing. The first scene is number four, and you're in it too," replied Tom, looking at him curiously. "You're not doing the same?"
There was something about Owen that unsettled Tom: a calmness unusual for a twenty-year-old actor, especially one in his first hundred-million-dollar production. It wasn't arrogance, but rather a quiet confidence.
Different from Rachel, whose overflowing confidence sometimes bordered on arrogance.
Tom had already read about him, Variety and other outlets had highlighted that Owen was the creator, writer, producer, and star of a movie A24 would soon release, an unheard-of achievement for someone his age. He had also made two short films that went viral on social media.
What surprised Tom most was that, since meeting him, Owen had never brought it up to brag.
"I've read my lines so many times they're burned into my retina," Owen joked, earning a brief laugh from Tom. "Besides, my dialogue today's a lot lighter than yours."
They chatted for a while until, at 6:20 a.m., they left the hotel and boarded the production van along with other actors called early.
'I feel like I'm forgetting something…' thought Owen as he stepped off the bus and looked around the massive closed set filled with technicians checking cables and assistants rushing by with walkie-talkies.
…
On another floor of the hotel, Larry was still fast asleep. The room was dim, with his laptop open and papers scattered across the desk. He'd worked late the previous night, and although he'd asked Owen to wake him so he could come along to set, sleep had clearly won.
…
After a meeting with the coordinators, Owen went to his dressing room. Hanging on the rack was the wardrobe for scenes 4 and 5: a simple formal outfit: crisp white shirt, perfectly knotted black tie, tailored black suit jacket, matching trousers, and shoes polished to a mirror shine.
The scene was set at the Capitol Academy's graduation gala, a solemn, elegant moment just before the announcement of the Plinth Prize, a monetary and honorary award usually given to the top student, though that year, by order of the authorities, it would go to the most successful mentor of the Tenth Hunger Games.
After changing, he then sat in front of a mirror as the makeup and hair team went to work.
Owen looked at his reflection, the character was already taking shape. For the first time in weeks, he felt that familiar spark: the moment when fiction is about to become reality.
His last shoot had been quite a while ago, with Paperman, a short film that required very little time to make. Now, he could finally act again, stepping into a character's skin.
Although he didn't think it was the greatest role of his life, he still found it interesting.
"Makeup and hair are done. You're ready, Mr. Ashford," announced Mary, the stylist in charge of his look.
"Thank you, Mary. Great job. You can call me Owen," he replied, standing up from the chair.
"Alright, Owen," she said with a small smile. She liked working with polite, grateful people, something not so common in this business.
Dressed in a flawless black suit and tie, Owen headed to the set. The space was lit by crystal chandeliers and decorated with majestic columns, recreating a Capitol ballroom.
A considerable number of extras were already elegantly dressed, holding glasses as they mingled, creating the atmosphere of a high-society gathering before the announcement of the prestigious Plinth Prize.
Owen walked past cables, spotlights, and crew members adjusting the lighting. Francis, the director, sat in front of a cluster of monitors, reviewing the script with his assistant.
"Alright, everyone, we're starting from the top of scene four," he announced through the megaphone. "Remember: extras, keep a low background murmur, no loud talking. People by the catering table, natural gestures, like you're chatting among yourselves…"
He gave quick, precise directions. Finally, everything was ready, it was time to roll the first scene of the shoot.
"Quiet on set!" shouted the first assistant director. Conversations died instantly.
"Camera… ready?" asked Francis.
"Ready," replied the operator.
"Sound…"
"Ready."
"Slate," said the script supervisor, stepping forward to show the clapperboard to Tom. "Scene four, take one."
Clack.
"Action!" called the director.
The morning went smoothly. Francis seemed pleased, the actors followed instructions, hit their marks, and got through the planned takes efficiently.
He was particularly impressed by Owen, who didn't miss a single line and somehow managed to improve slightly with every new take.
Owen, meanwhile, watched closely how Francis directed, the fluid coordination between the camera operators moving like dancers, the rhythm of the set, the precision only achieved in productions of this scale.
They broke for lunch and resumed filming in the afternoon.
Finally, at 5:45 p.m., the assistant director called the final cut of the day. The firts day shoot was wrapped.
After changing and neatly hanging his costume back in place, Owen left the dressing room with one thought in mind: get back to the hotel and rest.
However, just as he stepped through the door, Tom intercepted him.
"Hey, Owen," he called out with a friendly smile. "We're heading to a restaurant near the hotel for dinner. You coming?"
Owen stopped. He thought for a moment before replying, "Yeah, sure. Who's going?"
In truth, he wasn't particularly excited about the idea. He preferred a quiet dinner alone in his room, but he had to eat, and more importantly, he knew it was smart to maintain good relationships with the people he'd be living and working with for the next twenty days. Turning down an invitation right away would come off as unfriendly, and he was getting along well with Tom so far.
"Rachel, Hunter, Laurel, Lily, Carl, Florian, Athena, Dimitri, Knox, Kjell, and Jerome," Tom listed.
Owen raised an eyebrow at the last few names. They sounded unfamiliar. He couldn't quite place them, though he vaguely recalled a few faces he'd seen around the set.
In a production like this, there were plenty of characters who appeared on screen for only a couple of minutes. The ones with the most screen time, aside from Tom and Rachel, were Peter, Hunter, Jason, and Viola Davis, who played the Hunger Games overseer. And of course, Owen himself.
Although, spoiler alert: his character dies.
It made sense that Peter, Jason, and Viola weren't coming along. They were all over thirty, while this group seemed made up of the younger cast, the ones who still had the energy to socialize after a full day of filming.
Owen nodded, agreeing to join.
"Great, let's go! They're probably already waiting," said Tom, starting to walk.
The restaurant was three blocks from the hotel. It was modern, with warm lighting and a delicious aroma that greeted them as soon as they stepped inside. A waitress led the group to a long table set with neatly aligned glasses and napkins folded with almost ceremonial precision.
Rachel sat at the head of the table beside Tom. Owen took the seat next to him.
Hunter sat on Owen's other side, calmly flipping through the menu.
The conversation started light, comments about the first day of filming, comparisons with past projects, and a few jokes about the endless wardrobe changes and heavy makeup required for the Capitol scenes. Rachel was clearly the center of attention: extroverted, confident, she effortlessly commanded the table.
The girls praised her singing and celebrated her leap from theater to the big screen. Not everyone could boast of going from stage work to starring in two: hundred-million-dollar films in such a short time.
The atmosphere carried that familiar show-business undercurrent where connections are everything: some people laughed a little too hard at Tom's jokes, while others subtly looked for chances to get closer to Rachel or slip in a compliment.
In contrast, the quietest ones were Hunter and Owen. Both chimed in occasionally but never tried to dominate the conversation.
"By the way, Hunter," said Lily with a smile, "I loved your work in Euphoria. What's it like working with Zendaya?"
Hunter looked up, she'd been absentmindedly folding the napkin in front of her, and answered politely, "She's amazing. Very professional and generous as a co-star. I learned a lot from her."
That sparked curiosity around the table. Everyone began firing quick questions, and Hunter answered each one calmly.
Then it was Owen's turn to be in the spotlight. Lily, the same one who had spoken to Hunter, turned toward him with an intrigued look.
"And you… you're really good, huh?" she said, resting her chin on her hand. "I saw an article in The Hollywood Reporter and Variety. Is it true A24 is going to distribute your movie?"
Several heads turned toward him. There was genuine interest, and in some, a spark of surprise. The trailer had already surpassed half a million views on YouTube, and the media had picked up the story.
That one of the youngest actors on set had written and financed his own film, and even managed to get A24 to distribute it, was highly unusual.
"Yes, it's true," Owen replied naturally, taking a sip from his glass. "It was a really low-budget project, so I was able to fund it myself. And luckily, it did well at Palm Springs, and A24 got interested."
"Wow…" murmured Athena, genuinely impressed.
She wasn't the only one. Though Owen spoke modestly, without bragging, the facts spoke for themselves.
"I'll definitely go see it when it comes out. The trailer looks amazing," added Lily with a charming smile.
Owen nodded in appreciation but kept his distance. He had a girlfriend and could recognize those subtle flirtatious cues, in this environment, they weren't uncommon.
"Oh, right, I also saw your two short films," Athena jumped in, leaning forward. "The Black Hole and Paperman, right?"
"Yeah," Owen confirmed.
"You wrote them yourself?" asked one of the guys, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief.
Owen gave a small nod.
"Talented both as an actor and a writer…" said Lily, tilting her head again with a hint of admiration.
Owen smiled faintly. "I wouldn't say I'm an experienced screenwriter. I'm just getting started. It's more about wanting to tell the stories that come to mind."
The two girls exchanged a knowing look. They didn't say anything, but their expressions, and the way they watched him, said enough. Owen could feel the conversation taking a direction he preferred to avoid.
Then Hunter, who had been quietly listening until now, spoke up casually. "I saw Paperman, and I loved it. The girl in it… is she the same one from the Paranormal Activity trailer?"
"Yes," Owen nodded.
"You two have great chemistry in Paperman, and from what I saw in the A24 trailer, that too. Are you two dating?"
Owen smiled slightly. "Yes, you got it. That's my girlfriend, Sophie. Was it that obvious?"
Hunter chuckled softly, covering her mouth with her hand. "A bit, yeah. Since you worked together again, the chemistry really shows on screen."
A couple of eyebrows lifted around the table. Lily and Athena quickly redirected their attention to other conversations, as if suddenly reminded there were more people present.
Dinner went on, now with a more balanced atmosphere for Owen. Between courses, he started talking more with Hunter and found they got along better than he'd expected.
The same went for Hunter, she found Owen genuinely interesting to talk to, with a calm, sense of humor. Their exchange felt authentic, not exaggerated or fake.
After dessert, the group headed back to the hotel. Most said their goodbyes in the lobby before turning in for the night, they all had early call times the next morning.
And so, the days began to flow. The shoot settled into a strict, unchanging routine: makeup, wardrobe, long hours in front of the camera, and endless retakes under the director's watchful eye.
In parallel, Owen kept delivering a solid acting performance and, almost without realizing it, built a close bond with Tom and Hunter. In such a competitive and sometimes superficial environment, being able to say you'd made a genuine friend was almost a luxury. Making two was something to celebrate.
Larry, his agent, didn't stay for the full twenty days. After the first week, seeing how easily Owen adapted to the team, with no attitude issues or unreasonable demands, he decided to return to Los Angeles and take care of other matters.
There were also changes in location: part of the crew traveled to Georgia to shoot in the film's other major setting. Between hotels, sets, and travel, the three weeks passed faster than expected.
Before he knew it, Owen was flying back to Los Angeles, his work as Sejanus Plinth officially complete.
He was eager to see Sophie again, though she wouldn't arrive for a few more days. To his own surprise, he also missed his family.
He wanted to see Sarah again, give her acting lessons, have dinner with his parents, and James too, and tell them all about the experience in person.
Meanwhile, his payment had already been deposited: $117,000. A sum that represented the reward for his work and would help him with a few things he had planned before the box office profits from Paranormal Activity came in.
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