Page 6 of Role Play
Lucy
Iwatched in awe as Ash Livingston left the room. He was nicer than I expected, taller than I thought, and even sexier than he was photographed in all those magazines. Not that I’d have a lot of time to sit there staring at him doing nothing. It was my first job on a movie set—well, arealmovie set that wasn’t a student film. Hopefully, the first of many. Most people have to start on B-movies and indie films. But Uncle Richard had insisted I start at SilhouetteStudios.
“Lucy,” he had said, “everyone else is using their contacts and relationships to get jobs here. Why shouldn’t you? Hell, just last week, I got a job for my dog walker’s brother. If I can help out the man who picks up Bruno’s shit for a living, I’m sure as hell going to help my onlyniece.”
I had to admit, it was hard to argue with. He gave me the schedule for the year and let me pick the film that most interested me. This script was different than the rest, and it had the most potential for award season. How freaking awesome would that be? If my first ever movie won an Oscar? My stomach flipped at thethought.
That wasn’t the only reason. The scheduling worked out perfectly; the beginning of pre-production lined up with my graduation from college with only a small four-week lag that I had to wait tablesduring.
Guilt edged into my chest. There were so many people on this set who had worked hard to get here. Interns and runners and glorified coffee gofers had assisted on B-movies. It didn’t seem fair that I had this leg up when so many others had been scraping their way up theladder.
But for the love of all things holy, getting the position here was the only nepotism I was going to use. No one on set would know I was the boss’s niece. Not if I could helpit.
Staring at Ash Livingston as he strolled out of the wardrobe department, I felt that little pulsing flutter low in my belly. GoodGod, that man was hot. Not just his looks… but something else. Something about how everyone seemed to stare as he walked by. Rooms would go silent when he walked in. The static energy shifted when he entered—like the sound waves in the air were vibrating with excitement at hispresence.
“Lucy!” Kelly snapped, and gestured to the empty rack besideme.
I shook off my stupid, childish crush and rushed forward toward the empty wardrobe. I would not be getting all cozy with Ash Livingston or anyone else on the set for that matter. Uncle Rich made me and everyone else on set sign a non-fraternization clause. I understood why. With all the ugliness in Hollywood these days, everyone was trying to protect themselves from that corruptbehavior.
Uncle Rich didn’t have to worry about that with me, though. I was focusing on my budding career. Besides, of all the mennotto be with? Ash was number one. He had a serious reputation. He liked women. A lot of women. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but based on his previous arm candy, and penchant for tall, sinewy blondes? My 5'3" curvy frame and frizzy brown hair wasn’t exactly histype.
“Um… should I just hang them up?” Iasked.
"Yes,” Kelly said, drawing out the word so that it was twenty syllables long. "Hang up each blazer, facing out so that I can seethem."
I ignored her patronizing tone and did as I was told. I would rather be treated like shit by everyone on this set rather than deal with all the faux niceties and behind my back shit-talking that was bound to occur once people knew I was the boss’sniece.
Kelly tapped her chin, pacing back and forth and scrutinizing each blazer. It was fascinating to watch. Up until I had started design school four years ago, I would have thought all six blazers could have been perfect for the movie. But they weren't. Not to a trainedeye.
I watched carefully as Kelly ran her hands across the fabrics, pulled at the seams, checked the pockets, and inspected thetags.
"This cashmere one is too pricey," Kelly said, taking it off the rack and dropping it carelessly into my arms. I wasn't sure I could ever get to the point where I would feel comfortable flinging expensive designer clothes around. I’d seen my uncle do the same thing, almost as if it were a rite of passage, a way of displaying wealth to a point that demonstrated expensive items mattered very little to you. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my uncle, but that seemed more than a little excessive. Uncle Rich loved his wealth. And he never wanted to be poor—orseempoor—again.
When I was seven, Uncle Richard stepped in and took on as much of the father roles as he could handle after my dad left. And despite all the years that my dad would grab my mom, hit her, slam her slim body into the wall when she didn’t have his coffee made in the morning, or if his clothes weren’t folded exactly how he liked, she still cried when he walked out. She’d been devastated that she was single again, and that she had lost a man she supposedlyloved.
How anyone could love a man who hit her was freaking beyond my understanding. I made myself two promises that day as I watched Mom beg for Dad to stay as he shoved his belongings into a duffel bag and walked out of our lives. One, I would never act so pathetic, like my mom. And two, I would never be with a man like my dad—controlling, domineering.Abusive.
Because that love Mom had for him? It not only did irreparable damage to her… but to me, as well. Though she may not have prioritized me over her fucked up emotions, I sure as hell will never put my future children through what I wentthrough.
I swallowed, my throat tightening with the last memory of him and Uncle Rich in a stand-off with Uncle Rich nearly shoving him out thedoor.
When it came down to it, Dad didn’t want to hit someone who he knew would hit back. And we all knew Uncle Rich would hit him back. Gladly, he wouldhave.
My mom had been loving, affectionate, and attentive before my dad left. But after? She pulled back. She went into emotional hiding, shutting me out. For weeks, she stayed in her bedroom while Uncle Rich took care of me. When she reemerged from three weeks later, she was like a new person. A shell of the mother she once was. Where we used to have water balloon fights at the park, now she feared the bacteria within the water, and worried I might have an unknown latex allergy. We used to get soft serve once a week, now she worried what the fat and sugar would do to my health. On Easter Sunday, I asked her why the Easter Bunny didn’t bring me candy anymore and she answered,The Easter Bunny doesn’t want you getting diabetes. Everything scared her. Everything was a threat to our lives, and she responded by trying to control every little aspect of mine—my clothes, my hair, my hobbies, my friends… she even chose my first boyfriend for me. Her mission not to lose me was her only motivation. It was almost as though she believed that if she had been this way before, maybe Dad would have been kinder. Maybe he would have stayed. That night my dad left us, I actually lostbothmyparents.
I swallowed, my throattightening.
“Lucy! Are you evenlistening?”
“Huh? Oh. Oh, um, yeah. I waslistening.”
Kelly's eyebrow arched in the most impressive way, like a cat stretching its back after a long night sleep. “Oh, really? Then, could you please grab the blazer I chose and have it dry cleaned before we beginshooting?”
Aw, crap. I should've guessed I’d be caught in the lie. I needed to get my head in the game. Stop thinking of my abusive father. My emotionally absent mother. Stop thinking of my uncle. And definitely stop thinking about how hot Ash Livingston's ass looked in those black Armani slacks he was wearing. “Of course.” I scrutinized the five blazers left hanging. The Navy blue one and the camel-colored suede were both off the rack from department stores. No way in hell would Kelly choose those for Jude to wear, even with the budget cut. The black jacket is Prada, and way out of budget. So that one is out. That left the gray pinstripe, and the brown slim cut. And seeing how the role of Leo is a playboy, I’d guess that brown wasn't exactly in the character’s colorpalette.
Reaching over, I grabbed the pinstripe off the rack and draped it carefully over my arm. My smile wobbled, but I did my best to swallow down that nervousness. “Is there anything else you want laundered, Ms.Harman?”
Kelly's already icy blue eyes seemed to freeze over even more, but that arched brow relaxed along with her forehead muscles. "No, Lucy. That will be all for now." I nodded, adjusting my glasses higher on my nose and turned to leave the room. Kelly's bony grip caught my bicep before I got even two steps away. "But next time you zone out while assisting me, you'll be the onewashingthe clothes. Not helping me choose the costumes. Do I make myselfclear?"
"Crystal, Ms. Harman," I said, my voice soundingsmall.
Kelly snorted, letting go of my arm. "Lucy," she scoffed. "That name is very…suitedforyou."
Though what she said wasn’t technically an insult, my cheeks burned all the same as I spun in the opposite direction, walking away. The implied, unspoken words hung between us: a plain name for a plain girl. But if Kelly had really paid attention to me… if she’d looked at my paperwork, she would have seen Lucy was short for LucianaBlairRodriguez. Blair. My mother's maiden name. Also, Uncle Richard's last name. If someone wanted to piece the puzzle together, they could, and I’d be powerless to stop them. Luckily, because of my history with my mom, I was used to fading into the background. I was damn good atit.
