The sun beat down relentlessly on the asphalt of Riverport Studio City, shimmering in hazy waves over the sprawling complex of soundstages and backlots. Inside the cool, leather-scented sanctuary of a premium black van, the atmosphere was far less tranquil.
Lily Moore, a woman whose professional life was measured in fifteen-minute increments, was currently leaning over her tablet, her voice a rapid-fire staccato of logistical demands.
“We wrap the pavilion scene at 3:00 PM sharp. No extensions. We have to be across town for the skincare campaign shoot by 4:30. If we finish that by 6:00, we can make the brand gala by 7:30. Serena, are you listening? The gala is non-negotiable. The CEO of the parent company is flying in from Northaven, and he’s specifically asked to see you.”
Serena Waver
