Page 8 of Steamy on Set

Insulted for the third time in the last twenty minutes. This one seems to take the cake.

“And by that you are saying what, exactly?” I ask. It’s one thing to call me annoying or vain, but to say that the work I produce isn’t up to par, well bump that.

“I’m going to check on my guests,” Mira says, looking to make an escape. I flick my hand at Monty, letting her know she is free to go too. No need for her to witness round three. She shakes her head before walking over to a nearby group, ready to mingle.

“So what are you trying to say?” I repeat, placing my hands on my waist.

“This isn’t a fashion show. Maybe if you dressed more practical, you would be better at doing your job.”

“You know what else isn’t practical?” I jab my finger into his carved peck. “You being on set right now. From what people say, it’s not normal for a director to be around during pre-production.”

He rolls his eyes and throws his hands out in a wide arc.

“I don’t know who your source is about how things run, but they are wrong. Also, what is your obsession with me?”

“I’m not obsessed, I just think you’re being a micromanager and it’s a little overbearing.”

“Well, you don’t get paid to think about what I do. You get paid to think about designs, and those aren’t great.”

“And what is wrong with my work?” Seconds away from pulling my hair out, I run my fingers through it. I wait for him to be flustered and stutter without a clear example. Instead, he squares his shoulders and lays out his pointer finger to start a list.

“Well, for one, the costumes for the party were uninspired and out of season. Two, the meet cute look for the character Fiona is nowhere near as ready as it should be. And lastly, the tie choice for Dante’s suit doesn’t match the party decor.” He finishes with all three accusatory fingers pointing in my direction.

But they are pointing the wrong way. None of these are my projects. All of them belong to Mira.

“So what do you have to say for yourself?”

Stuck between taking the hit and confessing, neither option feels like the right choice. Should I tell him it wasn’t me and throw my friend under the bus? Or do I give him the satisfaction of thinking I’m bad at my job?

“Your swim shorts are uninspired.” I decide that I can’t be the one to tell him that it’s Mira he finds subpar.

“You’re deflecting.”

“I may be deflecting, but it is true. Your whole wardrobe is a mess and does no favors for your good looks.”

“So you think I look good?”

My mouth gapes like a caught fish. I open and close it, gulping down air in search of the right comeback. Luckily for me, I don’t have to give one as a guy walks up to us interrupting the conversation.

“There you are,” he says, checking Errol out. “I have been looking everywhere for you.” He intertwines his hand with Errol’s, and I roll my eyes as it becomes clear what this is. I don’t know what happened to Erica, but it seems Errol has opened himself up to more than one person right now.

“Oh good, you found me,” Errol says, sounding less than excited while trying and failing not to look in my direction.

I make my thoughts clear with the frown I pull when he looks at me long enough to catch it. Pivoting my eyes between their hands and the guy, I wait for him to explain his constant dates or leave.

Opting for the latter, he lets himself be dragged away, sparing one look over his shoulder. I give him a petty wave before turning my attention back to the drink table. After that conversation, I need a few shots to wash down the disappointment. I take some to go as I search for a seat.

As Errol graciously pointed out the other day, most people here don’t like me. So no one rushes over to say hello or engage me in conversation. I make a few attempts with the person next to me, but they barely respond, letting the conversation die every time I start it. Monty eventually makes her way back over to me, and we sit with our legs dangling in the pool.

She’s going off about what Mira said, making yet another case for why she doesn’t like her. I agree that Mira’s been acting different since I got here, but I’m barely listening, too busy watching Errol and his date.

They’re playing in the water, trying to push each other under. Occasionally, one of them pops up and grabs the other for a kiss.Despite being in public, they seem so intimate that it almost feels wrong to look at them.

“You good?”

I turn to see Monty watching me watch them with a glint in her eyes.

“Yeah…why?” I ask.

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