Page 17 of Out of the Gold

“Ouch. That sucks.” We take a few more steps, then Sophia points. “There it is.” She lays her hands on my shoulders. “Forget everything that happened today on set. You’re Melody Hunte, Badass Costume Designer.”

“Assistant.”

“Whatevs.” She chucks her fist under my chin and together, we walk into the club. A long bar is set along one wall, seating alcoves on the opposite side, and a pretty packed dance floor in the middle. The lights are low and the DJ spins Top Forty hits, with a cool laser light show. Immediately, I relax into the chill vibe.

Screwing up my courage, I say, “I’ll get my one and only drink. What would you like? A Cosmo?” Both of our favorite beverage.

She gives me the thumbs up then motions toward the dance floor. “I see some ladies from set design. I’ll be out there with them.”

Parting, I head toward the bar and wait my turn. This place reminds me of the clubs Grant used to play when we were dating. His band was good, but not as good as he thought they were. I shake my head to rid it of those miserable college memories and place my order with the bartender. Two Cosmos in hand, I make my way to the dance floor and hold out Sophia’s to her. After clinking, I take a long sip, allowing the beverage to slide down my throat, leaving relaxation in its wake. Maybe Sophia was right—this is what I needed after the shitty day I had.

We dance for a full set, ending with a song by my dad’s band. Everyone on set knows I’m his daughter, and they point to me when it comes on. I smile and dance, harder than to any other song.

I’m super proud of what he’s accomplished, as very few musicians from the eighties still are rocking, and on top of today’s charts. He’s the best man I’ve ever met and treats my mother like a queen. For her part, she never abandoned her own dream in subservience of his. She changed it somewhat once she realized being a partner at an accounting firm was no longer her goal. Instead, she’s the band’s accountant. And she does a great job. That’s the type of relationship I want. Based on love and mutual respect.

However, the movie about Hunte is just that—hismovie. I can’t be any part of it if I’m ever to hold my head up high in costume design. No. That’s his gig.

I look around the club—thisis my gig. For now. Judith may be headed to the movies, but I hope to be her replacement on the TV show if she does.

My Cosmo long finished, I lift my hair off the back of my neck to cool down. Sophia looks tired too, so I tilt my head toward the sofas on the side of the room. She approaches me. “Mel, I’ll get us some waters and meet you over there.”

I sit, waving my hand in front of my overheated face, then put my hair into a ponytail. Shortly, Sophia appears and plunks two cups of ice water onto the table, condensation forming on the outside of the glasses. Instead of drinking mine right away, I hold it against my cheek. “Ahhh.”

“I hear you,” she says, lifting the material of her dress away from her chest and blowing downward.

I catch sight of Chase on the dance floor with some people from the crew. “Don’t look, but Chicago’s at three o’clock.”

“Well, there goes a great club,” Sophia quips. “Guess they’ll let anyone in.”

We giggle and I take a long swallow of water. “I’m glad you made me come out, Sophia. I didn’t know how much I needed this release.”

“It’s what best friends are for.”

“Especially when we don’t get to hang that often anymore, now that you’re working in movies and I’m usually in New York.”

We clink our glasses. She asks, “So, any of these fine men catch your attention?”

A lump forms in my stomach. Ever since my relationship crashed with my one and only boyfriend, I’ve been wary of men. They only want one thing from me, and it’snotmy body. It’s a connection to my dad. “Nah.”

Sophia sips and rests the cup on her knee. “Come on, there has to be someone who catches your eye.”

I cross my legs. “Really, no one.”

I never toldanyonewhat happened with Grant, but she does know what I went through back in Chicago. Even though she didn’t accompany me to NYU, and we drifted apart until reconnecting on set, maybe it’s time to share. I dip my toe. “You know I have a hard time judging people.”

“Hasn’t changed since high school?”

“Nope. If anything”—I take another drink of water mainly to stall—“my original thoughts have been solidified.”

“Talk to me, girlfriend.”

I gaze into her brown eyes, which are filled with sympathy. Shared experiences. Somewhat. Her father isn’t an international rock star, though. And she’s never had people use her for her parents’ connections. “Just like when we were growing up, I can’t ever seem to distinguish between people who like me for me, and those who . . . don’t.”

“Oh, honey. I was hoping college would’ve helped you out with this. You’re an amazing woman. You’re not even twenty-five, and you’re an assistant costume designer on an HBO show. And now you’re working on a major motion picture. How many other women can boast that?”

I roll my eyes.

She continues, “Certainly not Lindsay.”

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