Gina placed one hand behind Zac’s neck. “Zac, can you hear me?” She heard Dale, her assistant director and close friend, on the radio requesting the set medic.
She placed her other hand flat against Zac’s chest. To her relief, his breathing was regular and his heartbeat strong. She brought her hand up to his forehead; she couldn’t tell if he was running a fever or just overly warm from the sun and exertion. “Zac, if you can hear me, I need you to open your eyes.”
“Oh man…” Lydia took one of Zac’s hands in her own.
Now Dale was asking the camera operators to review the footage they’d just shot. It was a good idea; perhaps one of the camera angles would show if he’d hit his head.
The medic knelt next to Gina. “What happened?” she said.
“I think he fainted,” Gina said. “But he may have also hit his head.”
The medic performed an assessment, taking extra time to feel around on Zac’s head. She flashed a small light in his eyes. “Pupils look good,” she said. “That’s usually a sign there’s no head trauma.”
Sylvester’s voice cut over the murmurs of the crew. “He was obviously out last night partying too hard.” When Gina looked up she was surprised to find that the producer stood less than ten feet away.
“I don’t know about that,” Gina said. Of course, Sylvester didn’t know what Zac had told her. “I think we should have him checked out.”
“Gina, he fainted.” Sylvester glared at her. “A hospital visit would bring the tabloids right to our door.”
“Then bring a doctor in to look at him,” she said.
“The medic can keep an eye on him, and you can work on a scene that doesn’t require him,” Sylvester said.
Gina looked at the medic; she just shrugged.
Sylvester narrowed his eyes at the cast and crew. “And not a word of this to anyone outside the set.”
“No.” Gina stood, hands on her hips. “I let you push me into pushing him. If you want him looked after here, I’m going to personally make sure he’s all right.” She addressed the crew and cast in a firm voice: “That’s a wrap for today, folks.”
She turned to Dale and the medic. “Can you help get him to my trailer?”
Dale nodded and motioned to one of the production assistants.
“Gina—” Sylvester started.
“Damn it, Syl,” She cut him off with a murderous glare. “Get off my set.”
©2013 Tracey Cramer-Kelly
Click here to read Installment #4, “Zac Comes To”!