1. Crew Call
The rotund, smiling man stood up and addressed the group in an unexpected Irish accent.
"Okay everyone, if I could just have your attention. For anyone who hasn't worked with me before, I'm Steve Thomas, and I'll be your director this evening. Over here is Amanda, our staff producer. Doug here is technical director. Sam is our engineer. And Phil over there is in charge of audio for tonight, with Mark and Jake who you guys probably all know. And the young man with him is Peter Kerr, he's here for work experience from his high school, and I suggest that you be nice to him, because I've had a chat with him and he's pretty smart; he'll probably be standing here doing my job in a year or two."
Peter blushed as the entire crew turned to look at him. He felt very young, at eighteen, though a few of the production assistants were surely only a year or two older than him. Peter knew what he was doing, at least in theory, and was fitter and stronger than many of them, but the crew had an air of confidence and no-nonsense ability about them that was slightly intimidating.
"Cameras one through five are already set up at the stage. That's studio A. Guys, you know what you're doing. Six and seven will cover the anchors out here in studio B. Bill's on six and seven is locked off. That'll be set up, and the lights, when we're done here. The foundation is managing the volunteers on the phones; we don't have to worry about any of that. We'll have the phone number up throughout on the Inscriber."
Peter listened vaguely as the director went through various points about the play they were televising that night, a fundraiser for a national charity. There were so many different things to remember. Luckily he didn't have to worry about them all; he just had to do whatever cable-running and mic-adjusting Phil, the terrifyingly proficient audio chief, needed help with.
"So a word about the actors; we're not working with professionals here, but we do need to turn in a professional television event. These are skilled amateurs. Most of them haven't been on live television before. But they have professional wardrobe. They have professional makeup. They've hired a professional lighting crew, who we've been working with, and they're excellent. Some of these people want careers in the theatre. This is their chance to shine on national television. You can bet they're taking this very seriously indeed. We owe it to them to do not just a good job, but the best possible job. That means you. Every single member of this crew. Every job is important. Let's cut no corners. Let's do it right. Thanks. We have two hours. Let's make it happen."
There was a palpable sense of excitement and anticipation as the twenty or so crew members streamed off in separate directions. Peter followed Phil and the other audio assistants, Jake and Mark, to the production truck. "So, guys," Phil grinned. "Costume drama. You know what that means."
"Concealed microphones?" asked Jake.
"You got it," Phil replied, as Jake and Mark high-fived each other, "but don't get too excited. The female principles have mics and transmitters sewn into their costumes. I got fresh batteries put in this morning while the costumes were in wardrobe. We just have to make sure they still work when they're put on. There are a couple guys who need miked up though - here's the list. Just tape them to their chests. I know how much you two enjoy playing with hairy chests, since you don't have any body hair of your own yet."
Mark smiled and flipped him the bird.
"So you guys get on with that. Peter, grab this headset. I want you to go out to the stage and we'll get some levels on the omnis out there. Let's get going, time is short here."
2. Talent Spotting
Peter felt rather proud of himself as he walked around the building and through the corridors to the main theatre auditorium. As he strode through groups of musicians, stagehands, volunteers, and various hangers-on, he noticed them taking in his "TV CREW" badge and headset, and respectfully making way for him. This was a feeling he could get used to.
Inside the auditorium was a scene of chaos as last-minute preparations were made by the theatrical crew. Backdrops were being raised and lowered; prop positions checked; last minute line changes being reviewed; and the chorus was rehearsing one of their songs. Some members of the invited audience had already arrived and were taking their seats.
Peter pressed his "talk" button. "Phil, this is Peter, I'm there".
The headset crackled, "Okay kid, just hang loose for a second, I'm working on a little problem here."
Peter relaxed and leaned against the wall, watching as a small group of actors took the stage in full costume, scripts in hand, apparently having decided to rehearse something just one last time. The flowing dresses of the female players certainly did nothing to hide the curves of their bodies, and Peter found himself admiring the shapely behind of one particular actress at some length.
His thoughts were interrupted by a buzz in his ear. "Peter, I need you to check the number six omni. Not getting anything from it."
Peter walked up to the stage and swung his body onto it. He made for the offending mic, and checked the connection. "Looks good Phil, it's plugged in OK", he radioed.
"Okay, can you go ahead and replace the mic and the cable to the snake, we don't have time to screw around."
As Peter worked he glanced up at the group of actors still rehearsing in front of him. The girl he'd been checking out from behind was just as shapely from the front. She was engrossed in her script, paying no attention to the other activity going on around her. Peter let his eye linger on her exposed cleavage, then up to her face - where he realized with a start that he knew her.
Connie Clark. Could it really be? The girl from his chemistry class last year. The one he had lusted after from their first meeting. The one who was so intelligent and funny, and so effortlessly sexy. The one, when they were preparing experiments, who he was mentally undressing and imagining naked; wondering what it would be like to feel her body; to suck on her nipples. The one who gave him such strange looks, as if she knew the dirty secrets in his head. But the one who had never given him any encouragement.
Nearly as tall as him, curvy without being fat, with dark hair, fair skin, and green eyes, Connie had featured in the starring role in many of his wet dreams. Even confined in a school uniform, her body was provocative and distracting, with pert breasts whose shape could not be hidden by a uniform blouse.
He had never known that she was an amateur actress; but yet here she was, standing here in front of him in a dress which made her even more sexually desirable than he remembered; she appeared as a radiant example of pure, virginal Victorian womanhood, brimming with suppressed sexuality. Peter felt a stirring in his groin as he watched the exposed tops of her breasts rising and falling with her breath.
"Peter, is that mic back?"
Peter was shocked back into reality. "Yeah Phil, try it now," he replied. At the sound of his voice, all of the actors turned to glance at him - and Connie recognized him with a sweet smile. He nodded at her, as Phil's voice in his headset gave him another task.
3. The Show Must Go On
"Thirty minutes to air, everyone" came the producers voice over the speaker. Peter was with Phil in the audio booth of the truck, watching as the older man carried out his final microphone checks.
"Okay, get Edward to give me a test, Jake," he ordered.
"This is James Dobson and I'm playing Edward, testing one two three, one two..."
"...that's great, next one please Jake - 'Emily'," Phil interrupted.
There was silence.
"Emily?" Phil repeated.
There was silence.
"Something's wrong there Jake, get her to check the connection to the transmitter."
"Uh, Phil, this is Jake, it's connected fine."
"Okay Jake, get her to go to the dressing room, I'll send Mark to change her out. Mark?"
There was no response but silence.
"Hey Mark?"
