STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery)

by Bev Pettersen

  She checked the back of the bus. There were no window seats left, but a couple empty spots remained on the aisle.

  “My name’s Judith,” the lady said. “What’s yours?”

  Emily groped beneath the seat for her bag. “Emily,” she murmured.

  “That’s a nice name. Does anyone ever call you Em? My parents used to call me Judy but that was long ago…” The woman’s voice faltered and she clutched her hands, revealing nail-bitten fingers. She certainly had stopped talking now. But her silence was heavy with melancholy.

  Emily fingered her bag. “My sister calls me Em. She’s the only one.”

  Someone in the back snored, a deep nasal sound that made the people sitting behind them giggle. But Judith didn’t crack a smile.

  Emily pushed her bag back under the seat, scrambling for something more to say. She definitely couldn’t switch seats now and leave this lady looking so sad. “Thanks for reminding me not to take pictures,” she said. “I need more than a day’s work and can’t afford to upset anyone.”

  “Just stay away from the camera,” Judith said, her voice regaining a touch of its earlier authority.

  “What do you mean?” Emily asked. “Shouldn’t we try to be noticed?”

  “Not if you want to be called back. We’re background for a house party. If your face is on screen, you won’t be eligible for any track or stable scenes. Are you special skills?”

  Emily wrinkled her nose. “Special skills. What’s that?”

  “Background who can ride or handle horses. Special skills might get up to twenty days’ work as long as they’re not filmed in the house. Grooms didn’t mix with the bluebloods. Don’t you know anything?”

  Normally Emily had little patience for people who shot such rude barbs but this woman didn’t seem malicious, only awkward. Judith definitely knew a lot about the movie, and if there was a chance for three weeks’ work, Emily was keen to hear more. “I’ve been around horses my entire life,” she said, leaning forward in the seat. “I definitely should be special skills.”

  “It’s not that easy.” Judith shook her head. “They’ll check qualifications. Especially with Dan Barrett in charge.”

  “Who’s Dan Barrett?”

  Judith’s forehead wrinkled. “Didn’t you look up any of these people? He’s the reason that mustang movie cleaned up at the Oscars. He can persuade a horse to stand up and talk. All the directors want him. But he insists on complete control over the animals, wranglers and stunts.”

  “But I really am qualified.” Emily’s voice rose. “I worked for over a year at the Three Brooks Equine Center. They have a training track and some of the top Thoroughbreds in the east.” She paused, deciding it was best not to admit she was only a tour guide. “We even had a Kentucky Derby winner once.”

  Judith sniffed. “Then I’m surprised you haven’t heard of Dan Barrett.”

  “Well, I have now.” Emily crossed her arms and looked out the window, staring at the blur of pavement. Surely working at Three Brooks would qualify her for special skills. She hadn’t been an actual exercise rider of course, or even a groom, but she’d certainly given a lot of tours.

  And she could honestly say she’d galloped on a track. She and Peanut had raced at the annual Stillwater Fair back home in West Virginia. No one needed to know the oval was tiny and not completely fenced. Or that they had come last—Peanut’s legs were far too short to cover much ground. But they had almost beaten the potbellied donkey, and Jenna had waved a pompom and cheered from the finish line. She’d even bought Emily a triple chocolate ice cream cone that day. Peanut had helped eat it.

  Emily’s mouth curved at the memories. The Stillwater Fair and Steeplechase had always been a blast. Maybe they could go again and relive those carefree times. No way would Jenna worry about school when whooping it up at the fairgrounds.

  They’d always dreamed of staying at the Steeplechase Inn and enjoying all the night festivities. That hadn’t happened yet. It would be cool to do it for the first time, together.

  Emily turned back to Judith, her voice hopeful. “How long is this movie? Would a wrangler have more days than background? Someone has to look after the horses, right?”

  “Yes, but wranglers are already on site. And like I said, Dan Barrett only hires the best.”

  “Of course,” Emily said, undaunted. Wranglers might already have been hired, but they still needed special skills. And if she snagged that job, she’d have more work than a single day of background. The director might even notice her and give some lines.

  With a little luck, she could afford to fix her car and also book that hotel for Jenna. They could go to the steeplechase together, just like old times. It would be cool to finally be the sister who picked up the bill.

  Jenna would be shocked when Emily drove home waving two weekend passes and an all-inclusive reservation at the Steeplechase Inn. It was hard to remember the last time she’d done something special for Jenna. Burke usually had that area covered. But not this time. He worked out-of-state a lot and didn’t have a clue how much his wife loved the jump races.

  Emily tilted on her seat, buoyed with fresh optimism. “When we get to the movie site, is there a place for the different background types to register?” she asked. “Because I’m quite certain this Barrett guy is going to want my special skills.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Sign the non-union sheet, then follow the group.” The man with the thin pigtail and headphones glanced up from the table and gestured at the snaking line of people. Several crude signs read ‘BG’ and crooked arrows pointed to a large brown tent.

  Emily gave a breezy smile. “Could you please make sure my form says ‘special skills.’ That should have been added.”

  The man frowned. “You’re here for party background.”

  “Yes, but it was an oversight.” She signed her name with a flourish. “I just need my qualifications updated.”

  The man yanked at the form, pulling it from under her pen almost before she finished signing. “Fat chance,” he said. “Now move along. You’re holding up the line. And we’re on a tight schedule.”

  “But if you could just write SS by my name, then I’m sure—”

  “Go.” He jabbed the air with a crooked thumb then muttered into the mouthpiece of his walkie-talkie.

  Emily rolled her eyes and flounced over to Judith. “Sheesh. That guy at the table was so rude.” She shot him a dark look that made her feel marginally better but unfortunately the man was too busy to notice.

  “Anyone with a walkie is usually an assistant director, or an assistant to an assistant director,” Judith said. “So be careful. And get used to the rudeness. We’re just background. We wear what they tell us, stand where they tell us, and eat when they tell us. Some companies treat background better than others but generally we’re just a body.”

  Emily stepped back, staring at Judith in consternation. “Then why do it? Will background help us become real actresses?”

  Judith snorted. “Not likely. We’re invisible. But it’s fun working at movies. It’s interesting seeing how they’re made, how much footage they have to shoot for just a couple minutes. I’m not doing anything else with my time. Although I usually stick to jobs within an hour’s drive of Louisville.”

  “This one is a lot further than that.” Emily rubbed the back of her neck, still rather stiff from the bus ride.

  “Yes, but I wanted to see the farm. Reckless was a famous horse but Hamilton Stud is closed to the public. With this movie being shot on location, it’s a chance to make it through the gate. The production company made several proposals before the Hamiltons finally gave permission.”

  “A movie would certainly be disruptive,” Emily said, peering at the rows of trailers and humming generators. Coils of black wire littered the ground and officious-looking people rushed past with headsets and strained expressions. “The Hamilton horses must be a bit rattled.”

  Judith gestured at the row of white barns stan
ding in the distance. “The buildings are still here but there aren’t any racehorses left. After Reckless died, they sold their broodmares. The Hamiltons have six offspring in training but they’ve been shipped to a dispersal sale.”

  Emily gulped. Judith was a walking encyclopedia. The research this woman had done for a simple movie left her feeling insecure. And she hated that feeling. She smoothed her hair, hoping to bolster her confidence. At least her makeup was carefully applied. She always felt braver when she looked her best—people treated her much better.

  “Where’s the coffee?” she asked, scanning the portable trailers. “I’ve been up since three and really need some caffeine.”

  Judith jerked to a stop, her voice lowering to a horrified whisper. “You can’t just wander off. Coffee breaks are scheduled according to regulation. They’ll tell us when it’s time. Everything is preset.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “It’s just a little coffee. And look at the long makeup line. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.” She pivoted, scanning the area for posted signs. Crude arrows pointed in every direction: makeup, wardrobe, barn, party. But she couldn’t see anything about food.

  “Save me a spot in line,” she added. “I’m going to scout around. I’ll bring you back a coffee.”

  Judith opened and closed her mouth, glanced at the long makeup line and then back at Emily. “A coffee would be good,” she admitted. “I take milk in mine.”

  Emily grinned. Judith wasn’t bad, just a little uptight and clearly lonely. But it was nice to have a buddy.

  She nodded and veered to the left, stepping over thick black extension cords and passing noisy generators that muffled the sounds of hammering. An arrow pointed to a long tent: Dining Room.

  She strolled through the open door and up to a table laden with serving trays. Folks here had been eating well. The distinctive smell of bacon and eggs lingered in the air. Stainless steel coffee machines stood in a row—not just one, but six—offering every type of tea and coffee imaginable, both pod and drip. There was even Herbalife tea and that stuff was awesome. She felt herself recharging, merely from seeing the logo.

  However, there were no paper cups, only china, and it was going to be awkward walking out with a dainty cup and saucer. She picked one up, handling it dubiously, but her hesitation was costly.

  “Excuse me,” an authoritative voice said. “This tent is restricted. Background isn’t allowed.”

  Emily turned toward the woman, her fingers tightening around the saucer. She didn’t want to get in trouble her very first hour. But she also didn’t want to leave without two cups of this delicious-smelling coffee.

  “Of course, I’m aware it’s restricted,” Emily said. “But I’ve been asked to pick up beverages.”

  “You’re not cast or crew. Who sent you?”

  Emily adjusted the cup in the middle of the saucer, stalling for time. But her mind blanked beneath the woman’s gimlet gaze. Judith’s name wouldn’t carry much weight, and she couldn’t remember any of the directors Judith had mentioned. She gave an airy wave of her hand. “You know…the assistant director. That guy who does the horses.”

  The attendant’s gaze shifted to someone behind Emily. Her stony expression cracked into a surprisingly pretty smile.

  “You’ll need paper cups around the barn,” a man said, his voice low and velvety but with an unmistakable hint of authority.

  Emily turned, her breezy words stalling in her throat. He was so ruggedly handsome, he had to be a movie star. Striking cheekbones accentuated a chiseled jaw and perfectly cut mouth. Amusement edged his eyes as he reached below the table and pulled out a stack of paper cups. “How many cups do you need?” He winked. “You know, for that guy who does the horses.”

  “Two, please.” She checked over her shoulder. The attendant had rushed away to challenge an unfortunate teenager by the doughnut table. “Thanks,” Emily whispered. “I thought she was going to pry the cup from my hand.”

  “She’s been known to do that. She’s irritatingly vigilant.” The man chuckled, such a warm and easy-going sound Emily stopped worrying about the Gestapo attendant.

  Now that she had a chance to study his clothes, it was clear he was no actor. There was nothing fake about his faded jeans, his workmanlike tan or the layer of dust that covered his boots. His brown hair was slightly long, curling over the back of his collar and lightened from the sun. He was a head taller than she was, and had a big headset stuck in his leather cowboy belt.

  Emily’s tension eased. It would have been awesome to bump shoulders with a famous actor like Robert Dexter but she’d grown up among simple working folk. She was comfortable around this type of man. There was no need to pretend.

  “This is my first time on a movie set,” she confided. “They certainly have a great selection of coffee.”

  “It goes a long way in keeping people happy.” His gaze drifted over her brand new silk dress down to her stiletto heels, his intelligent blue eyes seeming to absorb every detail. “You don’t look like you’re heading to the barn.”

  “No, I’m an actress.” She laughed, but his gaze remained on her face. “Well, trying to be,” she added. “I’m background, here for the party scene. Hoping to be moved to special skills.”

  “What are your special skills?”

  Her smile froze. His simple question highlighted her unfortunate dilemma. She had no skills. Despite Jenna’s support, her life had been a depressing string of failures. So far, her most notable achievement was holding her breath longer than any of the boys at the Three Brooks swimming hole.

  Naturally she had an elevator pitch that, speaking fast, could be delivered in less than thirty seconds. And she was accustomed to fighting for attention. However, this man just waited, as though her answer was important and he wasn’t going to be distracted by silly prattle.

  Someone hollered. Cutlery rattled. But neither of them spoke.

  “I’m guessing you’re a very fine dancer,” he finally said, his voice gentle. “Wardrobe gave you nice heels too. Perfect for the party shoot today.”

  She laughed then, a real laugh, despite her surge of despair. “I haven’t been to wardrobe yet.” She stuck out her foot and wiggled her toes. “These are my own shoes. But I was hoping my horse experience might qualify for special skills.”

  “You’re experienced? With Thoroughbreds?”

  “I worked for almost two years at the Three Books Equine Center.”

  “I’ve heard of the place.” He gave an approving nod. “So you’ve handled some rough stock?”

  She nodded. Not really a lie. When Peanut wanted to keep grazing, he was plenty tough to catch. And she’d often moved horses around for the technicians, collecting them from their stalls and leading them to the therapy rooms. Some of them were quite rambunctious, although it was probably prudent not to ask this man’s definition of ‘rough.’

  “Drop by the main barn after the party shoot,” he said. “If you can handle a horse, we might be able to use you. But dress appropriately.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “And the assistant director has his own coffee girl and doesn’t look after the horses. And we usually just refer to him as the AD. What’s your first name?”

  “Emily,” she managed, her cheeks flushing with heat. She should have paid more attention when Judith was prattling about ADs and movies and Internet gossip. At least this man hadn’t called her bluff in front of the coffee guard.

  And ‘dress appropriately?’ She hadn’t worn jeans since she left West Virginia, determined to leave her hick life behind. But this was a big opportunity…if only she could find suitable clothes.

  “I’m Dan Barrett,” he went on. “Here’s my card. It will give you entry to the test site.”

  “Test?” The mere word turned her mouth dry. She tended to flunk tests.

  “Just basic horse handling,” he said. “We need background that can handle horses, not actors trying to pretend they know what they’re doing. Can you ride?”

 
“Sure. I’ve been riding since I was two.” She squared her shoulders in a show of confidence but inside, her heart was pounding. This was the Barrett guy Judith had talked about, the production manager for the horse unit. She hadn’t mentioned he was drop-dead gorgeous with a voice so soft and silky it was almost hypnotic. Or that his cobalt blue eyes would leave her slightly unbalanced, as if they could see much more than she liked to reveal.

  Judith had only said he was an industry expert. And certainly not the type to be fooled.

  She knew she should grab the opportunity and leave, before she said anything more and screwed it up. But she lingered, palming the card around her warm cup. “I’m not really a fancy rider,” she said. “I haven’t had any formal instruction, not unless you count a big sister who always preached about not yanking on a horse’s mouth.”

  “Sounds like a smart sister.”

  “Yes.” Emily nodded. “Super smart. And the best horse masseuse around.” She gave herself a mental kick, wishing she’d said Jenna was studying to be a vet. That was much more impressive. But there was something about Dan’s eyes, so knowing and patient, not at all judgmental. He just waited, as though what she had to say was of the utmost importance. And she should be selling herself here, not drawing attention to her limited background.

  “Jenna taught me a whole lot,” she added lamely. “But you know, basic stuff.”

  He nodded, poured a cup of coffee and snapped on a plastic lid. She checked for a ring but his fingers were bare. And lean and tanned and rugged. Like he was capable of doing many things. A flush of awareness swept her.

  She jerked her head up, realizing she’d been staring. And all he was doing was putting a lid on a cup. “Well, thanks very much.” She backed up a step. “I appreciate the opportunity. Guess I’ll see you later.”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “This afternoon.”

  She nodded and walked toward the exit, unable to resist a last peek over her shoulder. Already he was surrounded by three men with headsets. For a brief instant though, his head turned and his piercing gaze caught hers.