Page 10 of Hot Set

Bioncia returned, Brandon following close behind. For a director, he was awfully obsessed with every single aspect of filming. Obviously, a directorshouldbe, but I had never seen anyone micromanage quite this much. Maybe Brandon was only around because he’d been the one to invite me, and he felt the need to prove that I was worth their while.

I took a deep breath and glanced toward Bioncia, whose eyes narrowed. For a few seconds, no one said anything.

“Well?” Brandon finally asked, his eyes darting in my direction. “Alex is really great, isn’t he?”

“I would have put more red in,” Bioncia said, tracing a finger along the extra’s cheekbone, “For more contrast. And darker. We have to keep in mind that the camera is going to flatten her out significantly.”

I nodded; a bit embarrassed that I hadn’t done that. And I hadn’t been thinking about doing it either, so my failure wasn’t just because I had run out of time. That somehow made it worse.

“But,” Bioncia added, “It’s good, overall. Welcome to the team, Alex.”

Chapter four

Alex

Seth sauntered in with a carton of fried rice and a set of chopsticks. He bounded into the make-up chair beside which I stood, heedless of anyone or anything I might have been working on. I glanced up from my make-up brushes; I’d been in the process of trying to figure out what shade of blush I needed for Eliza Hamilton, wife of Alexander Hamilton and—in Brandon’s vision—an immortal sorceress. Seth shifted his position, sprawling over the chair as if determined to take up as much room as possible.

“How’s it going?” Seth asked.

“Good,” I said. “I guess.”

Seth nodded and tipped his head back to eat a few kernels of rice. He was good with chopsticks, or maybe I was just bad with them. Any time I tried to eat my food with them, I felt embarrassingly American and usually resorted to stabbing whatever I was trying to eat.

“Want some?” Seth asked.

I shook my head.

“Not a fried rice kind of guy?”

“No,” I replied. “I’m just weird about eating after other people.”

Seth nodded. “What time is it?” he asked, looking to all the world like he’d onlyjustnoticed he was at the set.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked. “Three.”

“Crap,” Seth replied. “I’m late.”

He didn’t sound particularly concerned about it, though.

“How late?” I asked.

“Three hours.”

And yet he sat in my make-up chair acting like absolutelynothingwas wrong. My jaw dropped.

“Close your mouth,” Seth said. “You look like a fish.”

“You’rethree hours late?.”

Seth shrugged. “The set didn’t burn down.”

“I know,” I replied, “But don’t you think it’s kind of a big deal you’re late?”

I’d have been an anxious mess if I’d shown up even twenty minutes late. Three hours was unthinkable. I would have literally died of embarrassment.

“No,” Seth replied. “If it was a big deal, Brandon would’ve gotten rid of me already.”

“But doesn’t that hold things up?” I asked.

---