No Footprints by Susan Dunlap Read Free Book Online

horn. That was that ass Macomber Dale.”
    â€ŸBut you—”
    â€ŸMe nothing!”
    â€ŸYou—”
    â€ŸStop! Just stop it now. Just—” I was inhaling, focusing on it for the length of that breath. If I were the second unit director—‟Who the hell is Macomber Dale anyway? And why are we stuck with him on the set?”
    Jed looked about to snap at me, then he just sighed. ‟He’s . . . what he seems—a loose cannon. He’s been on the fringes for years trying to get a foothold in production.”
    â€ŸI can see why he failed, but how come we—?”
    â€ŸHe got enough money from Aaron Adamé’s wife—”
    â€ŸOh.” No need to ask if that mover-and-shaker loot was what was keeping us afloat. ‟So, then, what do we need to pay— give —Serrano?”
    â€ŸZip. If it was just one call, he could ignore it. A couple, he could drag out the response till the weekend. But not the whole fucking neighborhood.”
    â€ŸHe can do what he wants; that’s what I’ve heard.”

    â€ŸHe doesn’t want. It’s already been a big hassle; makes him look bad in the neighborhood and downtown, too. We’re not getting any favors from him, now, thanks to you—thanks to the horn. You know if you’d—”
    â€ŸYeah well I didn’t, and neither did you. The next time you see that jerk you can tell him he’s screwing us. What about Berkeley?”
    Jed stared. ‟Berkeley?”
    â€ŸThe marina. We could do this scene there.”
    â€ŸAnd redo half the story line?”
    I took another deep breath. And in that time I missed my turn in the argument.
    Jed was so into the flow he picked up the other side. ‟We haven’t shot the lead up. It’d take some adjusting, but it’s not impossible.”
    â€ŸThis week? Just the negotiations—”
    â€ŸBut if we’re clear and crisp on the parameters—”
    â€ŸWe don’t have parameters.”
    â€ŸWe can get them.” He paused. ‟ You can get them. I’ll call you with the contact in Berkeley. Get me the stats today.”
    Today!
    â€ŸBy three. I don’t want to be calling over there when the only people picking up the phone are on their way home.”
    Impossible! I stuck out my hand and said, ‟Done.” Stunt work was scarce and getting more so. No way could I blow off this job, or Jed Elliot, not if I ever planned to be stunt coordinator.
    In less than an hour Macomber Dale had managed to piss off everyone on the set, residents all around, and the main cop in the Mission district. Amazing.
    As for me, I was livid and, at the same time, desperate to get to Filbert and talk to L Young. Still, I could scoot over the bridge now and scope out
the site enough for the paperwork. I’d lived in Berkeley all through college. I knew the marina. It’d be less than two hours before I swung back by Filbert Street. Two hours really wouldn’t make any difference, I told myself, and I could not just ignore my job. Why do you even care about her now? my oldest brother’d demand. You saved her, isn’t that enough? Let it go!
    But I couldn’t, not yet, anyway. I couldn’t even explain why. But it didn’t matter because soon I’d be face to face with her—or at least someone she’d intended to phone—and, maybe, I’d see that she was okay.
    â€ŸOkay, I’m off,” I said to Jed.
    â€ŸNot so fast. Nellen needs to do some work on the car.” He nodded at the camera crew guy over by the lunch wagon.
    â€ŸHow long?”
    â€ŸHour, he says.”
    I didn’t bother to ask what that meant in real time. Filbert now; Berkeley Marina after.
    I passed Nellen the key and the garage location, snagged a donut from the lunch wagon, considered another coffee and, sadly, admitted that the point of no return had already come. Normally, I’d’ve