Page 15 of Keep It

The minute the door closes behind her, I rub my hands across my face. Turning to the mirror above the counter I look at my eyes. I don’t havebags.

Sighing, I pick up my tablet and desperately try to memorize my lines. I had been sent a digital script the day after the meeting with my father, but after my cursory read, I procrastinated revising my lines.

The train would have been the perfect time to read but the whirlwind sitting next to me became an instant distraction. Her shiny hair in disarray after she pulled that ridiculous bobble hat off her head…I’d had to clench my hands to stop myself reaching out to smooth the wayward strands. And then I couldn’t help teasing her, poking her to see that gorgeous blush spread across her cheeks and down the column of her throat. I had found myself wondering what else I could do to make her blush like that.

So, yeah, not much work happened on the journey.

Glancing at my watch, I try to quell my rising panic. I’m not ready for this. My heartbeat is a steady drum in my ears and I swear I can see my chest rising with my haggard breaths. My phone rings in my pocket.

“Hello?”

“How’s it going?” My sister’s voice is calm and brisk, and I feel myself relax.

“Fine.”

Pip laughs, “First day jitters?”

“Please, as if you’ve never been nervous on your first day.”

“I’m not a household name.” Pip lies. She is just as much, if not more, famous than I am. Largely thanks to her many social media accounts, a skill that missed me in the gene pool. My social media presence consists of a retweet when the Lionesses won the Euros and a picture of a cat I saw when I was in Greece.

“Have you started shooting yet?”

I lean to peer out the window, not seeing anyone scurrying between the trailers. “I’m going to makeup soon.” Where a black coffee will be waiting, hopefully.

“How’s the hotel? I’ve been meaning to stay there.” The Belle Palais is a five star hotel with a view over the Sacré-Cœur. I made my own way there last night as my so-called assistant can’t seem to organize a piss up in a brewery but the grand opulence of the place is more suited to the film I’m starring in than what I would have picked for myself. But then again, having the option to pick where I’m sleeping is, naturally, out of my hands.

“It’s fine,” I say sharply. “Look I’ve got to go, they’re waiting for me.”

“Sure, all you need to do is remember your lines, stay out of any fights and don’t disparage the family name.” Pip quips, making me huff a laugh.

“I’ll make sure to get on that.” I hang up the phone, before grabbing my tablet and heading to the makeup truck.

When I get there, Anya is nowhere to be seen, but a steaming cup of black coffee is waiting for me in my chair.

The hair and makeup designer, Sally, introduces herself before ushering me to my chair and tucking a napkin in my collar. “It’s a pretty simple set up this morning, so you won’t be too long.” Sally turns away from me, gathering some supplies. “We didn’t get a test run but I’ve been assured it will be fine,” she mumbles under her breath.

I stay quiet. I would have liked a makeup test, a camera test, a costume test — I would have wanted it all. When I first started out, I used to love getting to prep with the crew, where I felt that I was a part of a team, where I could really sink my teeth into the project. Now, I’m just dumped into it the first day of filming like a child on his first day of school, disoriented and nervous.

I pick up my tablet and read through my sides. Thankfully, it’s mostly non-dialogue scenes of my character working. I can manage that. Probably. A scene scheduled for later in the day is a page and a half of dialogue, so I focus on that.

Sally keeps buzzing around me, twisting my head this way and that, pulling my concentration away from the script. I can feel my irritation rising with every turn of my head. I need to get these words into my brain.

Robert: It’s all here, there’s no wayLeClericdoesn’t know about this. It’s gross misconduct sure but almost certainly criminal negligence.

I repeated the words under my breath, my lips forming the words.It’s all here, there’s no wayLeClericdoesn’t—

Fingers moving my chin make me jump. “Can you not?” I snap.

Sally’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry,” she stumbles. “I need to add some Vaseline.”

“Can you ask a man before you touch him?” I spat. “For Christ’s sake I’m not a doll.”

“No—no of course not.” Sally steps back. “I think we’re good here, I think you’re needed in costume.”

“Great.” I stand and rip the napkin out of my collar. My heavy footsteps shake the trailer as I head to the exit.

My babysitter is outside, leaning against the opposite wall and playing around on her phone. She straightens with a start as I stomp down the stairs. I look away before I can get distracted by her silky hair and dusting of freckles.

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