After Freddy finished his headshot session, he pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill to pay for both himself and Demi.
Ronald took a fifty, handed the rest back, and explained that Demi had already covered her own session.
He suggested Freddy take Demi out to a nice dinner with the extra cash, offering a subtle wink.
Freddy smiled, pocketed the fifty, and retreated to his makeshift studio to write songs.
Demi, meanwhile, escorted Nastassja Kinski to the neighboring apartment for her impromptu photoshoot.
The apartment Nastassja was staying in belonged to the director Roman Polanski.
Nastassja, having worked as a model in Europe, was incredibly relaxed in front of the lens.
Ronald adjusted his focus and aperture, chatting with her as he worked.
"Is Roman Polanski very strict on set? Does filming a period piece really take that long?" Ronald asked, metering the light near her face.
"Yes. Sometimes we have to wait an entire day just for the clouds to break perfectly," Nastassja said, her thick accent adding a musical quality to her words.
"Tess is a British story set in Wessex," Ronald noted. "Why are you filming in the French countryside?"
Nastassja laughed softly. "Oh, you don't know? Roman is a wanted man in California. If he sets foot in the UK, he would be extradited back to America. Fortunately, Normandy and Brittany in the south of France look very similar to Dorset."
"Your English is excellent for a German," Ronald complimented.
"I have a good ear. I can mimic several accents in English, French, and Russian."
Ronald framed Nastassja's face in the viewfinder.
She possessed a striking combination of features: wide, soulful almond eyes contrasted by sharp, almost masculine eyebrows.
It gave her a contradictory charm, sensuality, innocence, and an aloof nobility all existing simultaneously on one face.
Recognizing that this was her defining feature, Ronald started clicking the shutter rapidly.
After the first look, Nastassja insisted on changing outfits. She retreated to the bathroom.
Ronald turned to Demi, keeping his voice low. "Why is Polanski wanted by the California courts?"
Demi sighed, crossing her arms. "He was arrested for statutory rape. He drugged and assaulted a thirteen-year-old girl. He skipped bail and fled the country just a few days before he was supposed to be sentenced."
"When did that happen?"
"February of this year."
"Ah. I was still stuck in rural New York back then." Ronald, consumed by his hustle, rarely watched the evening news.
Demi briefly filled him in on the scandal. Polanski, a celebrated Polish auteur who had made masterpieces like Chinatown and Rosemary's Baby, had reached a plea bargain but fled to Europe when he suspected the judge was going to renege on the deal and send him to prison. Since then, he was exiled to France, unable to travel to countries with US extradition treaties.
"You know," Demi whispered, "just a few days before he fled, he invited me to his house for dinner."
Ronald's eyebrows shot up.
"Don't worry, I brought my mother," Demi added quickly. "He told me I had a great face for cinema. He told me I needed to study Method acting if I wanted to be a real actress."
"So, have you joined the Screen Actors Guild yet?" Ronald asked.
"Not yet," Demi shook her head. "It's a Catch-22. Union productions require you to hire union actors. I can only get on set if I work as background."
"But I heard you can join if you earn just one day's salary?"
"That's not how it works," Demi corrected him. "Non-union actors can't just sign a daily contract. If you work as an extra, and the Assistant Director bumps you up, gives you a specific piece of business or a line they give you a union waiver, a 'voucher.' You need to collect three of those vouchers to be eligible to join SAG."
Ronald thought back to his time as a PA on Rock 'n' Roll High School. He remembered handling the sign-out sheets for the extras. He suddenly realized the immense power he had casually wielded.
If he had known, he could have bumped Kris and Marla up, giving them the vouchers they desperately needed to launch their careers. He made a mental note: Assistant crew members hold the keys to people's dreams.
"Then how did Nastassja join the union?" Ronald asked. "She's the lead in Tess."
"Because Roman is directing it. Under the Taft-Hartley act, if a director insists on casting a non-union actor in a principal speaking role, the actor becomes instantly eligible for the union. It depends entirely on having a director in your corner."
Demi paused, her eyes shifting thoughtfully. She brushed her long black hair behind her ear.
"Ronald... you said you're joining the Directors Guild soon? Will you be directing your own movies?"
"I don't know," Ronald shrugged. "This industry is a grind. Allen Arkush cut trailers for five years before Roger Corman gave him $300,000 to make a B-movie."
"Well, when you do get your own crew... don't forget to write me a voucher, okay?" Demi said, her voice dropping to a softer, more intimate register.
"That's usually the casting director's job, but if I'm in the chair, I'll look out for you."
"You're a good guy, Ronald." Demi stepped forward and hugged him tightly pressing her tits to his chest.
"You two look like Superman and Lois Lane again!" Nastassja teased, bouncing back into the room wearing a sleek silk blouse.
Demi pulled back, her expression perfectly composed. "Ronald just promised to give me my SAG vouchers when he directs his first movie."
Demi smiled. It was a lovely, calculating smile. Her nose wrinkled slightly, a ripple of charm across her youthful face. It left a faint, lingering impression on Ronald.
"Oh, poor Demi," Nastassja giggled, tilting her head. "You almost had a chance to go straight into the Tess crew, but the little man ran off to France before he could cast you."
Nastassja's laugh was soft. Her blonde hair, grown out for the period film, swayed gracefully, highlighting her long neck. She possessed a very different kind of gravity than the American girls Ronald was used to.
As Ronald resumed shooting, his thoughts drifted.
Nastassja was openly referring to Polanski as "the little man" in front of Demi.
It was clear she felt her leverage shifting. Once Tess was released, she would be an international star.
She wouldn't need an exiled director to get her roles anymore.
He glanced through the viewfinder. She was breathtaking. But knowing Polanski's notorious reputation, and the massive age gap between them... it was obvious what the transaction was. Polanski got a muse; Nastassja got a career.
Was it really just the allure of his cinematic genius?
Ronald involuntarily straightened his posture. I'm six-foot-two, he thought. I've got a foot on Polanski.
And then there was Demi. She had gone to dinner with the exiled director, but she was street-smart. She brought her mother as a shield.
She didn't let go of the hawk until she saw the rabbit. If Polanski hadn't fled, Demi might already have her union card.
The yearning of these beautiful women to enter the film industry was like moths drawn to a lantern in the dark. They throw themselves against the hot glass, crashing again and again, hoping for a miracle to break through so they can reach the flame of the inner circle.
Ninety-nine percent of them never break the glass. They just burn out.
And of those who do break through, many fly directly into the flame and are consumed by it.
Only a rare few, those with a perfect combination of luck, talent, and ruthless ambition manage to dance gracefully in the light.
Ronald made a silent promise to himself behind the camera.
I have to become a director. I have to make my own movies. Then I can open the window myself. I can find the true talent, protect them from the fire, and let them shine on screen and maybe enjoy myself..hehe.
Authors Note:-
That's a bonus chapter.
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