Page 52 of All That Glitters

I’ve sat in enough makeup chairs to know the drill, but this one is more uncomfortable than the others. Because this time, I’m alone, and the person going in front of the camera is me. Not my mother. Never her again.

The transformation is gradual, from the ends of my hair to my collarbone until my face is transformed. There’s a dark line of contour beneath my cheekbones, highlighter on the arches of my brows. Soon, the face in the mirror is me but stronger, sharper.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” the stylist tells me as she curls soft waves around my face. She fluffs the strands, checking her work in the mirror reflection. Waiting for my reaction before she continues. “Greg is really a softie. He might have to get into part for the character, but he’s a great guy, and the rest of the crew will take good care of you too. I’m sure Parker has an intimacy coordinator there.”

I start at the word. “A what?”

“You know, an intimacy coordinator. Someone on set to make sure that nothing funny happens but the scene still looks real. I’m sure you’ve—oh, no, I guess not.”

She looks distinctly embarrassed, and I almost shoot up from the chair.

“Like I said, there’s no reason for you to worry, honey.” She’s an older woman with black dyed hair and a fan of wrinkles out from around her eyes. She might be trying to soothe my nerves, but there is no way in hell they’ll loosen up anytime soon.

Not until this project is done and I’ve gotten away from Parker, who gives me the willies.

Everyone has told me the same thing. Why don’t I believe them? The pit in the base of my stomach yawns wider than ever.

“Does the producer have to be on set to watch?” I ask as she puts the finishing touches on my hair.

“Sometimes. It’s all at his discretion. Now, up you go! You’re ready. And so beautiful. They wouldn't have brought you into a project of this magnitude if you couldn’t handle it, sweetie!”

Both her and the makeup artist had done a great job of taking me from regular Empire Stone to a character of myself. Someone with more street smarts. Someone in more control of her mind and her body, who knows how to use both, whereas Empire Stone flounders along, making a mess of things wherever she goes.

I tug the silk belt tighter around my waist and make sure the edges of the robe are closed. Someone will have to point me toward wardrobe so I can get changed.

I walk along toward the set where the rest of the crew are waiting. Parker is once again the first to spot me and gestures me over without speaking this time. Every step is heavy, the low lights, the intimacy of the set, the way Greg is also fresh out of hair and makeup and has been transformed into the older Mr. Patterson. His hair is streaked through with more silver than before and the lines around his eyes are darker, deeper.

“Empire, head toward the X. You’ll see it marked with tape on the floor there.” Parker points me in the right direction once I'm in earshot. “And take off your clothes.”

“Excuse me?” I blurt out.

“Strip. Out in the middle of the set.”

I glance over his shoulder at the others, the camera people, the boom operators, all watching. Everyone watching. “Ah, I thought I was going to head to wardrobe.”

“For an intimate scene? Empire, please.” Parker breaks off on a laugh. “Take off the robe and stand in place, please.”

“I don’t want to do that.” I shake my head and go still on the X. From the corner of my eye, I see Greg pursing his lips in confusion. His head tilts to the side. He’s clothed, at least. He’s got on relaxed pants, a shirt, and a full jacket.

Parker’s expression darkens. “Miss Stone, I’m afraid you’re confused. This is the scene we’re running today, and I’ve purposely kept the cast and crew small for you. Now, please strip, and we can get on with it. You’re wasting everyone’s time, and as we all understand, time is money.”

I shake my head, my legs trembling to the point where I clench my toes. My muscles strain. “I don’t feel comfortable stripping…right off the bat. Is there any way for us to run lines first? Just to get in the mindset for the scene?”

I grip my elbow, staring at my feet, the hardness in the pit of my stomach growing with each passing second. There’s no way I can dive right in. Not like this. There are plenty of other scenes for us to do to warm up without me having to get naked in front of everyone. And where is the intimacy coordinator?

“Would you like me to call Marcus?” Parker threatens. “It’s a simple call I can make to have your contract terminated. If you refuse to follow through on the scene, then we can get another girl in this role faster than you can blink, and Marcus can just deal with you.”

I blink, staring up at him. He’d do that? For something as small as this? It doesn’t seem fair. Not like I really wanted the part once I learned more about it, but damn.

And my career means so much to him. Not only will he be hurt, but he’ll be so mad at me.

“It’s fine.” My voice is small, tight. “I’ll be fine.”

Hating every second, I start to peel off the robe, losing a part of myself once the fabric hits the floor. Marcus wants me to do this. He believes in me enough to have negotiated my contract for me. He’ll be livid if I ruin things. He’ll never forgive me.

I’ll be fine.

I’ll be…fine.

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