Page 7 of Out of the Gold

Chase’s glove-covered hands land on top of the child’s head, and he strikes a pose in front of the green screen that he holds for a full minute. When he tries to pull back, though, the Velcro securing the glove appears caught in the child actor’s hair.

“OWWWWWW!!!! MOOOOOOMMMMMYYYYY!!!!!!!”

I’m out of my seat and onto the set within seconds, essentials tote swinging behind me, racing to the wardrobe malfunction. Sophia’s wide eyes meet mine. Before I reach the actors, Chase tries to remove the gloves but only succeeds in getting the Velcro more tangled in the boy’s hair. Jessa works the buckle, and that, too, only makes matters worse.

“Wait! Wait! Let me do this,” I scream as I approach the throng of actors.

Brushing aside all hands but Chase’s, which is ensconced in the child’s curls, I order, “Stop moving, both of you.”

I take a deep breath and assess the situation. The strip of Velcro holding the glove in place around Chase’s wrist somehow got loose. A bunch of curls are wrapped around the buckle and now enmeshed in the Velcro. Great. The best course of action is for me to remove the glove from Chase’s hand, and then remove the Velcro from the hair. Or cut it out—but I’m sure the actor wouldn’t appreciate that. Nor would the hair department.

“Okay, I’m going to get you out of the glove, Chase.”

My eyes dart to him, and he’s scowling. I bury my mother’s admonition to lose the scowl before his face remains like that forever, and focus on removing the flap from the decorative buckle. Once that’s done, I open up the glove and Chase slides his hand out, rubbing his wrist.

“Some fucking great costume,” he mutters. “Not like I’ll ever have to put my hands on another actor’s head. That’s the whole damn movie. Get it fixed.” He rips his hand out of the other glove and throws it onto a table. With that, he storms off the set, pushing by Judith and Helene.

I resume my efforts on the child’s hair. Jerk.Hewas the one who put the gloves on. I double-checked them, but obviously not good enough.

My musings are interrupted when the child actor screams again. “Ouch! This hurts!!”

His mother, who has been on set as required by law, rubs his back and tries to comfort him. I catch her gaze and she offers a wan smile. At least one person is sort of on my side.

After minutes of wrestling with the child’s curls, I hold the offending glove high over my head, free and clear.

Sophia and some of her friends on the camera crew clap. The hair people swoop down and begin to fix the damage done to their creation. I exhale and close my eyes.

“Guess we didn’t think this part through.” Judith’s voice floats to my ears. “Can I see that?”

I pass her the glove, grab the other one Chase left, and we walk off the set. Judith turns the offensive glove in various directions. “The Velcro should’ve stayed on the glove. What happened?”

I shake my head. “I think it was the buckle that got caught first, allowing the Velcro to adhere to his hair. It never occurred to me this could be a remote possibility.”

Helene adds her two cents, “Better change it up. I don’t think Chase would want to be afraid his gloves will do that every time he does the DNA trick.”

Judith undoes and re-secures the glove. “This looks fine, but Helene has a point. Because Chase must lay his hands on everyone’s head, we can’t chance this happening again.”

I bite the inside of my lip. “We could use a different material and have the glove go under the arm of the costume instead of over it. No buckles. Since Noble has to digitally enhance the gloves anyway, it might not make too big of a difference.” I think about the fabrics I have in his trailer. “We could use a black cotton material.”

“Cotton? Not against the body suit,” Judith muses. “But I do like your idea about having it go underneath the sleeves. And no buckles.”

“What about silk?” Helene offers.

Shoot. That’s a good idea. Why didn’t I think of it?

Judith considers her suggestion. “Silk. That could work. Black silk. Matte, not shiny.”

I consider the fabrics I have, discarding them all.

Helene pipes up, “I have the perfect thing. It’s in my bag, in Mark’s trailer.”

Noble approaches.

Judith rushes us away, “Go make a prototype. I’ll stall for time.” She braces to face the unhappy director.

Without even an inhale, Helene and I race off the set. “Bring me your material while I prepare a pattern in Chase’s trailer.” We part and, panting, I rip open the door and rush up the stairs.

Chase lounges in a chair, flipping his mask. “You better get my gloves fixed pronto. I hate delays for stupid shit.”

I see red. “This isn’t stupid. How were we to know the buckle would wrap around someone’s hair? I’ve worked with gloves before, you know, and they’ve been fine. Maybe it was the idiot who put them on.” I’m so angry I don’t care about my use of the slur.

“Or maybe it was theidiotwho double-checked the fastenings.”

I suck in my breath. Not having time for his obnoxious comments, I force a calm voice. “We’re going to remake the gloves out of a different material.” I rip open my three-tiered design suitcase and toss pieces of fabric aside, grabbing some muslin.

“Here.” I point to the table now covered by the material, the rubber band around my wrist catching my attention. I flick it, allowing the tiny sting to absorb my negative energy like my mother taught me so long ago. “Set your hand down. I’m going to make a quick pattern.”

Chase’s brow forms a deep V. “Really? Starting that now? Couldn’t have thought of this before?”

I pluck the rubber band twice more.

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