Page 20 of Steamy on Set

“Nothing is wrong with it per se, more so the motivation behind someone realistically wearing it.”

“What do you mean?” I turn it from side to side, seeing every angle.

“This is the outfit Fiona is supposed to wear when Dante comes to break up with her. It’s supposed to change his mind or something, because you know men are gross or whatever. But I just don’t see a woman sitting in her home in something like this without occasion. What do you think?”

I think she’s right and I tell her so. I mean, I wear a matching set of underwear every day, but if I’m pulling out the lacey outfits, it’s for a reason.

“Thank you.” Mira places it back. “Go and tell the writer Jack that Wardrobe doesn’t agree with the clothing for that scene, and see if you can set up a meeting to discuss a change to the script.”

Changing the script? Are we even allowed to make calls like that?

I nod, unsure if this is our place, yet determined to do as told. I find Jack by the living room set and quickly pass on the message. With a few minutes to spare between this and my next fitting,I quickly grab some tea from the break-room, relishing in the lemon ginger pack I brought myself.

With a nice warm cup, I make my way back to the wardrobe room just as Olivia Cane walks in. She’s playing the lead role of Fiona, giving us the ground breaking representation of a plus-size love interest. Granted, she has an hourglass figure, but it’s still progress. I direct her to undress before placing my cup at my workstation. As she steps out of her jeans, her knees bend and she wobbles a little bit to the side.

“Are you okay?” I ask, grabbing her arm in time to stop her from tilting over.

“I’m fine.” Her eyes say different as they stare back at me, bloodshot and red rimmed. Her lips look in desperate need of ChapStick, and her overall skin is ashen and pale. It could just be the ungodly hour that this fitting is at, but something about her seems off.

“Are you sure?” I push.

She looks me up and down, dismissing me with one tilt of her head, before stepping into the newly reworked meet-cute outfit. I let it go, not feeling it’s my place to go any further and do my best to get her seamed. Just as we’re finishing up, Mira walks back into the room.

“How is it looking?” she asks.

Olivia tries to smile, but ends up pulling what looks more like a grimace. Mira doesn’t seem to mind as she goes about fussing over the few changes we will need to do to make this fit perfectly. Letting Olivia know she is cleared to go for the day, we move over to sit by the board.

“Can you finish taking in her clothes today, and then start on pajamas for the break up scene? I think we should be preemptive for when they make the change.” Mira leans back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest.

“Got it. Will do.” I take a sip of my drink, discovering it’s now cold.

“Hey, you’re coming out tonight, right?”

Having been invited to dinner with the crew by possibly the only other person who likes me, it seemed unwise to go.

“I don’t know,” I say.

“You have to come. This place is so good, you’ll love it.” She pokes me with her finger as she says the words, egging me to join.

“Okay, okay. I will.” I swat her away as I stand, needing to reheat my drink. Leaving her in the room, I go to the break area to put my cup in the microwave. I open the door to enter, and see Errol just as he pulls a tea bag from the box I brought in.

“Aha!” I exclaim as I push fully into the room. Dropping the packet, his hand flies to his heart.

“What is wrong with you?” Turning to face me, agitation wars with the fading fear as he sees who yelled at him from across the room.

“For someone who has a whole lot to say about me being picky about tea, I didn’t expect to see you drinking it.”

His fingers move across the stubble on his chin as he attempts to hide his guilt.

“You left it in here, so I assumed it’s for everyone.”

“It is for everyone.” I move to the microwave. “Everyone but you.”

A scoff escapes his mouth as he picks the packet up again. I smile as I watch him put the bag in the cup.

“Stop smirking,” he says, as he sets the kettle to boil.

It only makes me smile wider as I grab my now warm cup. I have no more reasons to stay, but I look about the room, lingering by the counter. Maybe it’s because we actually had a decent conversation, but I wonder if we can have another one.

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