Page 11 of Love At First Fright
His eyes snapped to hers, gaze roving over her for a moment. She knew what he would see: ginger hair wet from the rain, pale freckled skin, tattoos, dark circles from the long flight barely hidden by her cat’s-eye glasses. Rosemary was hit with a pang of self-consciousness.
He clearly hadn’t expected her to speak to him, his steely grey-blue gaze dismissing her, his mouth flattening into a serious line.
“Look, I’m not in the mood for selfies right now,” Ellis said.
“I don’t want a photo. I just came to introduce myself, I’m—”
“Sorry, but I’m just not interested,” he said, clearly not sorry at all. Without allowing her a single second longer to explain herself, Ellis stalked back into the rain, hunching slightly against the downpour. Was she so awful to be around that he would rather brave a deluge than speak to her?
It was unfortunate then that Ellis had proven to be such a grade-A asshole. A little part of her—alright, a big part—had hoped that his whole Hollywood act was just that: an act. But he hadn’t even let her finish her sentence. As she leant against the church ruins, waiting for the rain to stop, Rosemary wondered what expression she would see on Ellis’s face when he saw her again.
4
You’ve got this, you deserveto be here, Rosemary whispered to herself as she stepped into the Ampleforth Suite. It was already full of people, despite the fact that she was still ten minutes early, even after hurrying back to the hotel and changing out of her wet clothes, braiding her hair back from her face since it was still a little damp from the downpour.
The suite where the production meeting was taking place was a brightly lit room looking out over the river, with more of those old-white-men portraits eyeing her suspiciously from the wood-panelled walls. She didn’t know what to do with herself, but then she spotted what seemed to be a self-serve coffee and tea station, complete with fine bone china teacups and saucers.
Look busy, look like you know what you’re doing,she told herself. She wished Josephine, her agent, were here. That woman knew how to talk to a crowd, knew how to assert herself. Rosemary was fine when it came to the book world, she knew how to act as an author, but around film people? She suspected she was a small fry compared to the hotshot directors and producers, not even counting the Hollywood stars. Onething she was good at, however, was masking her anxiety in group settings.
“Rosemary? Oh my goodness, hi! How are you?” a voice chirped from beside her. Rosemary smiled as she took in the person standing next to her, with their sleek black hair and dazzling smile.
“I’m Lyn, we were chatting over email, remember? It’s so amazing to finally meet you!” Lyn said, reaching out a ring-clad hand to shake Rosemary’s.
“Of course! Lyn, it’s good to put a face to the name.” Rosemary said, relief spilling over her. Lyn was one of the production coordinators, probably the person at the studio she’d been in touch with the most since the movie had been greenlit. Lyn was perpetually peppy over email, and, much like Rosemary, had a tendency to add many additional exclamation marks to their emails.
“Did you like the suite? I saw how gothic it looked online, and I thought to myself, she’s a horror writer, I have to put her in the scary room.” Lyn laughed good-naturedly. “Come sit down, I’ll get your coffee for you. Or tea?”
“You don’t have to do that, Lyn, really,” Rosemary said.
“I insist.”
“Then I’ll have an Earl Grey, please. Sugar and milk. But I’m really happy to make it myself.” Rosemary didn’t like feeling like she was being presumptuous, or acting like some kind of diva.
“Please, it’s my job. Besides, I thought you might want to settle down and prepare yourself.”
“Why would I need to prepare myself?”
A frown creased Lyn’s eyebrows. “The executive producer, Jeremy, has decided he wants to sit in. He doesn’t normallycome to these things and, well, he can be a little…demanding. And I deal with Hollywood types, so when I say demanding, you know I mean it.” Lyn winked and went off to make Rosemary her tea.
Others settled down in their seats around the table, and Rosemary noticed that no one apart from Lyn had spoken to her, but they all seemed to know one another.Well, you didn’t exactly go around introducing yourself to them either, did you?
Lyn returned with her tea, complete with a lemony shortbread biscuit, and then crouched down beside her.
“Come on, sit here.” Rosemary patted the seat beside her.
“No can do, I’m not important enough to sit at the table yet.” Lyn grinned, seemingly not minding that fact at all. “But I’ll be back there”—they nodded at a row of chairs along the wall—“making notes. Ah, don’t look, but Jeremy just walked in.”
Rosemary subtly looked. Jeremy was on the shorter side, but what he lacked in height he made up for in breadth. The man clearly worked out, but there was something about his appearance that Rosemary found unappealing. He was muscular, sure, and tanned, but in a tanning bed kind of way. It was the kind of physique that Rosemary imagined men thought women liked, all bulging and veined and social-media-worthy. Honestly, he looked dehydrated. And like he listened to podcasts about CEOs’ work-life balance. When would men realise that women wanted someone who looked like he could throw them on the bed, play a sport, butalsosay hell yes to a slice of cake? Though perhaps that was just whatshewas attracted to when it came to men.
Jeremy offered the room a veneered smile and slipped into a chair near the head of the table. Even this far across the room she could smell the sharp metallic tang of his cologne.
Still, no one was sitting beside her, and now Lyn had retreated to a chair in the corner of the room, where the other assistants and coordinators had congregated.
A few more men peeled in after Jeremy, chatting about golf and some party that had happened at Soho House the previous week. For a moment, Rosemary was worried the room was becoming a sausage fest, but then, thankfully, some women entered.
She was pretty certain that one of them was Marissa, the lead scare actor, who would be playing a couple of the ghosts in the haunted manor, but as Rosemary made a move to go and say hello, the voices in the room hushed, as if someone important had entered. Even Jeremy sat up a little straighter.
Rosemary turned around to face the door, a scowl narrowing her eyes.
