Page 16 of Take It Till You Make It
Sally looks up at me and nods. “We’ll be filming with Crispin.”
And there go all my happy feelings, floating away into the ether.
Chapter Eight
Apparently,this movie is a whole bonding experience for Sally and Chandra because Sally is even sharing a trailer with her aunt. Which means that I must find my way back to wardrobe on my own after lunch for a change of clothes. Then Remi barges behind the curtain, not even caring that I don’t have a top on, and asks how I think I can keep her waiting like that.
“I didn’t know I was supposed to report to you!” I’m clutching my shirt against my chest, but Remi seems oblivious to my state of undress.
“You always report to makeup first. I must get your hair and makeup done for the next scene before you change! Now I’m going to be late for Chandra.” She grabs a robe I hadn’t even seen hanging on a hook. “Put this on and follow me.”
With her long legs, I’m forced to run along behind her to keep up. I’m sure I look ridiculous, but luckily, no one seems to care. By the time I’m sitting in her chair, I’m panting, and my forehead is slightly damp. I’m sure she’s not gonna love that. In the end, it doesn’t matter, because she removes all my makeup and starts from scratch. Seems excessive since my makeup still looked fine. As soon as she finishes rebuilding my face, she wets my hair with a spray bottle and combs through until it’s nice and straight, just to dry it, mess it up again, and put it in low pigtails.
An hour and a half later, I look like a perfectly grubby thirteen-year-old. Again. Just like I did before she plucked me out of wardrobe. When she finishes, she doesn’t even speak; she just turns and hurries off. As I trudge back to wardrobe, I try not to feel too guilty. It isn’t like I’m a seasoned professional or anything. Someone should be telling me what to do. I haven’t even seen Jenny since the table read. Isn’t she supposed to be chaperoning me?
Grumpy troll lady scolds me for leaving the outfit I was changing into heaped on a chair.
“I’m sorry, I was rushed out.”
“I don’t care if there was a fire. You treat your costumes better than that. I ironed it.” She waves a hand in the direction of the rolling wardrobe where I see the t-shirt and shorts I’m supposed to wear hanging up in perfect condition. It seems strange that Remi puts so much effort into making me look like I never shower or comb my hair, but that my clothes are pristine.
As soon as I change, the troll grunts and hands me sneakers. Then she wraps the same friendship bracelets and leather bands around my wrist but doesn’t give me rings to wear this time.
By the time I make it to the set, I’m frazzled. The set is deserted, and I realize we must be shooting somewhere else. The email I have from Jenny has instructions for the original scene, not for the change that was made. I power walk back inside, looking for someone who might know where I’m supposed to go. Nobody I ask knows or seems to care that my anxiety levels are about to blow the top of my head off. I feel like this is one of those nightmares where I run and run and run but never get anywhere.
Finally, a lady gives me valid directions, and I stumble into the studio to find everybody waiting for me.
“There you are!” the director says. “Nice of you to join us.”
“My email from Jenny had instructions for the original scene. No one seemed to know about this change.”
“The app is updated regularly.”
I gape at him. “There’s an app?”
“I’ll show it to her!” Sally calls out.
I give her a grateful look. “I’m sorry. No one has really told me anything.”
Hank sighs heavily like my mere existence is a challenge. He spins toward the cameramen and calls, “Places.”
Though I read over the scene several times while Remi re-did my makeup, I’m too flustered to be able to concentrate. Then, to make matters worse, I see Crispin walking to his mark with a smirk on his face. How can Sally not see what a jerk he is?
I close my eyes to clear my head of his image and think of the script. Oh, right. I’m reading on the couch. My eyes pop open as I surge forward and almost run right into someone crossing in front of me. I pull myself up at the last minute, which stops me from plowing into them, but it also throws me off balance, and I end up stumbling. Like an idiot, I put my hand out to stop my fall, and my wrist takes the brunt of my weight as I crash to the floor.
“Ow.” I groan. But because I feel completely stupid, I pop onto my feet and ignore the pain shooting up my arm. I hope I didn’t break anything.
I grab the magazine sitting on the coffee table and plop onto the couch. I rest my feet on the table and open the magazine, staring at it as if I’m really into it, hoping everyone is ignoring me.
“Arabelle, can you put your feet up on the couch instead?” I switch, but the director shakes his head. “How about sitting up and tucking your legs sideways?”
Not really sure what he means, I do everything slowly so that he can correct me if I’m wrong.
He shakes his head again. “Go back to your original pose.”
I stifle my sigh and do as instructed.
“Yep, that’s good. Now, Crispin, when you walk in, I want you to toss your coat onto the back of the couch, barely missing Stella. Stella, I want you to give Jeff a dirty look. Don’t say anything, though. But make the look obvious.”
