Page 89 of Catch Me
I make a mock zipping motion over my lips which makes Lillian laugh. Since it’s bad luck, I won’t press the subject of Academy Awards any further, but I can’t stop myself from picturing Andreas stepping on stage to accept such a prestigious award.
The idea of him in a tux with a bright smile on his face and a golden statue in his hands sends a chill down my spine.
In my mind’s eye I do a quick sketch of him in a tux. My fingers itch to make something for him. A shirt that I purchased this past weekend from a vintage clothing store pops into my mind.
“We should …” Lillian ’s voice trails off as she looks at something over my shoulder.
I spin to face whoever’s behind me and my heart sinks.
“Ivy, can I speak with you?” Rebecca phrased it as a question, but she spins on her six-inch heels before the words finish leaving her mouth. Obviously, my boss expects me to follow her, no questions asked.
I glance back at Lillian who gives me a shrug, indicating she has no idea what’s going on. An encouraging smile crosses her face as she juts her head for me to follow behind Rebecca.
“We were just about to pull out the clothes for today’s extras and?—”
Rebecca comes to an abrupt stop outside of the back door of the set.
A few members from the crew enter in and out, carrying lights or other props for filming. Rebecca pauses, waiting until it’s just the two of us.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
My heartbeat gallops as I take in her harsh tone. A myriad of possibilities run through my head as I try to imagine what she’s referring to. Unfortunately, I land on the one topic that makes my heart fall to my knees.
Andreas.
She’s warned me once already to stay away from him.
I tried to keep my distance, but even with my attempts, we could’ve been way more discreet over the past couple of weeks.
Better yet, you should’ve stayed completely away from him like your boss told you to. That’s your problem, Ivy. You’re so reckless. Just like?—
“Well?” Rebecca’s question cuts off my mother’s rant.
“Actually, I … well, there is no explanation.”
“You bet there isn’t. I told you, you’re new in this industry, didn’t I? You think you’re the only one who wanted this position? There are hundreds, if not thousands, of other candidates lined up for this job. And most of them have their degree.”
I step back, away from her, hating the way her words feel like a slap across the face. Especially since they’re so damn close to what I know my mother would say.
“I—”
“Do you really think you were the only person qualified enough to make those costume changes? Did it even occur to you to consult me before you took it upon yourself to make the alterations?”
“I’m sorry, alterations?”
“Yes. I heard what you did the other day. The changes you made to the actor’s clothing last week. What the hell gives you the right to do such a thing?”
Her voice borders on irate.
Still, relief washes over me. She’s not talking about my and Andreas’ relationship.
“The director was having trouble with the lights reflecting off of the belt and the sizing of the clothing. The changes needed to be made,” I defend.
“So get a new damn belt. Don’t change the entire costume. I created those designs specifically for that scene.”
And they clashed with the scene.
I barely hold the words in, but I do. The fact of the matter is, though, that the design didn’t match what the scene needed.
