The director snorted. “You think you could have prevented that? You are suffering from serious delusions of grandeur, Mr. Foster. You should know by now that nothing comes between Mason and his adoring fans. Particularly when they’re carrying cameras.” Eyes narrowed as he watched the ebb and flow of the crowd. “At least if he’s out where we can see him, we have a chance of avoiding lawsuits.”

“Do you want me to tell him you’re ready to shoot?”

“He knows. That’s why he finally emerged from his dressing room. One of the reasons. And obviously not the most important. You try to remove him from that little love fest there, and he’ll treat the world to a scene where you’re cast as the villain and he’s just trying to give a little back to the people who make the show possible. Forgetting, of course, that there won’t be a show if we don’t get it shot.”

“Could we do my reaction shots first?”

Both Tony and the director turned.

“Lee, I didn’t see you there.”

Lee smiled. “It seemed safer to stay out of the way.”

Tony opened his mouth to ask him how he felt and then closed it again. Not his place. It wasn’t like they were . . . friends.

“Sorge?”

The DP glanced up.

“Lee’s reaction shots; do we need to relight?”

“I don’t think so . . .”

As the DP headed out onto the office set, Peter nodded toward the sides sticking out of Tony’s pocket. “You can read him Mason’s lines.”

From elation to depression in less than a second. Probably a new record. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

He couldn’t look at Lee while he explained. “I have to do that thing for Arra.”

“Now?”

The feel of the gate powering up was making his eyeballs twitch. He glanced down at his watch. “Three minutes. She, uh, she says timing is everything in special effects.”

“Fine. Whatever. Go. Lee, get out there. Adam . . .”

The 1AD broke off a conversation with a boom operator Tony’d never seen before. Seemed like Hartley hadn’t made it in this morning.

“. . . make sure that lot shuts up when I call quiet.”

Trying not to look like he was walking into pain, Tony made his way to the lamp.

Behind him, Peter called, “Quiet please!”

Adam’s voice rose over the continuing fannish babble, “If you lot keep quiet until I give the word, Mason’ll pose for pictures with you when we’re done.”

The babble switched off.

“Rolling!”

Grabbing the rack at the last moment, Constable Elson remained on his feet as he finished his accidental dance with a tattered antediluvian ball gown. “This looks like a fire code violation to me,” he muttered, untangling the distressed gray taffeta from around his legs.

“I assure you, Constable, it is not.”