Role Play (Silhouette Studios)

by Katana Collins

  Kelly plastered a thin and brittle smile on her face, like the top of crème brûlée. One little tap and it might shatter and crack. “Of course,” Kelly said, eyelashes batting in my direction. “I just meant that perhaps we should go with someone a bit more experienced—”

  “Let’s give Lucy’s friend a try first.”

  Kelly’s smile dropped, but she nodded. “Absolutely.” Then, turning, she looked to Lucy. “Can your friend come in Monday with some of her designs?”

  “Three days?” I interjected. I was the farthest thing from a fashion designer, but even I knew that was ridiculously short notice. “Look, it’s Thursday night and we’ve all been working nonstop, with no breaks in the schedule until next weekend. You even said yourself that we’ve got a couple weeks of costumes already prepped and ready. Why don’t we plan on a week from Monday so that we’re all looking at her designs with rested eyes? And that will give her an adequate amount of time to prepare.”

  “Um… sure,” Lucy said, her eyes darting back and forth between Kelly and me. “I mean, I’ll call her and check.”

  “Kelly?” I asked. “We have the costumes in order for the next two weeks, right?”

  She gave me a tight nod in return. “Yes.”

  “For the next three weeks, actually,” Lucy interjected, eyeing her notes. She glanced up at me, then turned her gaze to Kelly’s fiery glare and immediately shrunk back down in her seat.

  “Great.” I leaned back in my chair and tapped my fingers to the top of the lacquered desk. “Thanks so much, ladies.”

  Kelly was the first to stand, her high heels sinking into the carpet. “Thanks for your help, Ash,” she said, draping her hand over the back of the chair for balance on her spiky heels. “I’ll find a wardrobe for you that you’ll be stunned with.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  Kelly didn’t wait for Lucy to follow her, but lifted her nose in the air and headed for the door. Lucy stood, tucking her dark brown hair behind her ear, the corners of her mouth tugging into a smile. “Thanks.”

  “Lucy,” I said, and my voice stopped both her and Kelly in the doorway. “Nice work today. I’m glad to have you on the team. Richard was right when he said there’s a spark in you.”

  Normally, when you tell a member of your crew that the CEO of the studio saw something in them, they react in some semblance of surprise or happiness. Or humility. Lucy on the other hand, lost what little smile she had. Her face went white, her hands clenched the notebook she was holding tighter to her chest, and for a second, I thought she might pass out.

  “Rich—uh, Mr. Blair said that?”

  I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I studied Lucy… an odd, adorable little thing. I’ve seen crew members like her come and go before. Sometimes, the behind the camera folks were so introverted that they themselves sunk into the set pieces—the costumes, the lighting. Not to be seen. Not to be commended or applauded for their work. I appreciated this, but also in this business? You don’t have to be a Hollywood starlet or even conform to the ridiculous ideas of beauty in this industry… but you do need to be confident in who you are. You can’t shrivel and disappear every time someone pays you a compliment. Los Angeles would eat her alive.

  I stood and slid my hands into my pockets. “Yeah, he did. He meant it too. I’ve known Richard Blair a long time. He doesn’t give out praise very easily. Hell… It took me two years of working with him as a production assistant before he ever acknowledged I existed.”

  Which made this attention he was paying Lucy even odder. Was she fucking him? The thought sent heat spiraling through my blood and pulsing in my veins. Irrational as shit. First of all, after Rich made such a damn big deal about this non-fraternization policy? Then told me to keep my dick in my pants at the start of this film? Holy hypocrite. That said, she could fuck whomever she wanted—as could Richard. But shit, the thought made me jealous.

  Her mouth twitched and she stood a little taller, her hands relaxing around the notebook. “I’m sure he barely knows my name.”

  I licked my lips, my eyes locking onto Lucy’s. They were wide and a rich, deep brown that rivaled what I’d imagined Venus to be in my Mythology class back in college. I inhaled deeply, catching a whiff of her sweet scent—vanilla and something else… lavender? It was so different from the light, flowered orchid scent Brie used to wear. Our breathing synced, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw that with each inhalation her curvy breasts rose and fell. But I wasn’t focusing on anything but her eyes.

  “Lucy,” Kelly said from the doorway. The moment shattered and for the first time in my life, I understood the saying, deafening silence. Kelly didn’t say another word—hell, she didn’t have to. Her tone was razor sharp as was the tight line of her lips. And Lucy responded immediately to the command. She turned and scurried out the door behind Kelly.

  I stood there an extra long moment peering at the closed door before me. What the hell just happened? What was that buzzing connection with her for the second time in one day? Not to brag or anything, but I had my share of women. And yet—I wanted Lucy bad.

  I grunted as I moved across the room to my bourbon cart, pouring myself two fingers worth of a stiff drink. I needed to get it the fuck together. Lucy was cute. But she wasn’t Giselle for Christ’s sake. Or Venus for that matter, you idiot. What in the damn hell had me thinking of my mythology class from over a decade ago? This must be Richard getting into my head—all that talk about introducing a sub to BDSM and how good it was. I just needed to go to LnS and interview Eve, a professional submissive that worked there. I could interview her about how she entered into the lifestyle. Hell, maybe we could even play out a scene or two. Have her act like she’s being trained with me. I grabbed my phone, texting Eve to see if she was free to meet at LnS tonight.

  I actually felt really good about this plan. It was a good compromise. I’d be able to feel some of what Richard was talking about without completely betraying Brie’s memory. Then this weird lust for Lucy would fade away.

  My phone buzzed as Eve’s text glowed on my screen.

  I’ll meet you at the bar. 11:00.

  Tipping my head back, I finished the bourbon and grabbed my keys and wallet, heading to the door. As I swung it open, Neil, Jude's stuntman and personal trainer, was standing there, fist raised, ready to knock. He grinned and ran his hand through his brown hair. “Hey boss,” he said.

  “Dude… What have I told you about calling me that?”

  “Right. Sorry.” But he didn’t sound all that fucking contrite. And that smirk on his face needed a good slam from my fist.

  I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Anyway,” Neil continued, “A bunch of the crew is going out for drinks to Alma’s if you want to join.” Neil, Jude, and I had been best friends since we all rolled up to Los Angeles together in the same beat up Honda Accord. The car had barely made it across the country from our Boston dorm room.

  Neil lifted an eyebrow. "What do you say? One beer with your crew?"

  A drink with the crew was literally the last thing I wanted to do. Even though I knew it was for the best for the film, I didn’t even want to go see Eve all that much. More than anything, I just wanted to go home, rub one out in a steaming hot shower while thinking of Lucy’s brown eyes, and then fall into bed. I opened my mouth to respond, but Kelly’s voice cut through the silent hallway.

  “And if you ever… I mean ever undermine me again in front of Ash Livingston, I swear to fucking God you won’t even get commercial work in this city.”

  I couldn’t see them from where I stood in the hallway. Fuck, I had gotten Lucy in trouble. I had encouraged her to be part of the creative team, and whether it was because of my personal relationship with Kelly, or because she was just one of those types that felt threatened by new talent… I was the reason why Lucy was getting yelled at.

  “Yeah,” Neil whispered. “That poor assistant has been getting reamed out for a few minutes now.”

  I swallowed my sigh. �
��Thanks for the invite to Alma’s. But other than you, I doubt any of the crew wants to see their boss out and about.”

  I remembered those days—you went out after a long day to bitch about the director, not have a beer with him.

  “Just think about it.” Neil gave me a good-natured slap on the shoulder. “People in this crew actually like you. They’re saying it’s one of the best pre-production sets they’ve ever been on.” I snorted. Except that apparently my shots from the first week are shit. “I know,” Neil continued. “I couldn’t believe it either. I tried to tell them what an asshole you are.” Then with a wink, Neil pulled a cellophane wrapped brownie from his pocket, handing it to me.

  "Unless that's got some pot in it, I'm not wasting the calories."

  Neil smirked. "It's infused with protein powder, not pot. My latest concoction. Try it."

  I chuckled and shook my head, taking the brownie. Instead of eating it, I tucked it in my pocket. For as long as I'd known Neil, the guy was like a giant contradiction. Muscular as all hell. Spent hours in the gym every day. And when he wasn't working or working out, he was in the kitchen, apron tied around his waist, baking.

  Neil gave me a wave before taking off, lumbering down the hall and turning the corner. “Hey Kelly—hey new girl,” I heard Neil say. “We’re doing beers at Alma's if you want to join.”

  I held my breath, listening as my friend's heavy footsteps faded. “Not you,” Kelly said. “I better not see you at Alma’s. Maybe go have a drink with your roommate, instead.” The clacking sound of heels stomping away told me Kelly was gone.

  Should I go apologize to Lucy? Make sure she was okay? I shook my head, berating myself. No. Special attention was what got the poor girl in trouble with Kelly in the first place.

  Whether or not I liked it, film sets had a hierarchical structure. Like a proper table setting, everything had a place, everything had an order—from the soup spoon to the dessert fork. And I’d just yanked the tablecloth out from under the plates by paying special attention to Lucy.

  Turning, I locked the door to my office and walked the opposite way to the back door where I was parked. I needed to blow off steam—a beer at Alma’s with my crew wasn’t going to cut it.

  Eve would help me. She always did.

  Chapter Four

  Lucy

  Omigod!” Andrea shrieked, drawing the attention of every patron at the fancy goth bar. I shrunk down in my bar stool, feeling a bit like a turtle retreating into its shell. My best friend and roommate’s scream left everyone drinking in a ten-foot radius staring directly at us. Which probably wasn’t that big of a deal for Andrea. She’d been bartending here for the last year. And holy shit… the stories she came home with.

  Apparently, LnS was an underground BDSM club as well as a bar. Some private VIP section upstairs that was exclusive. Goosebumps surged a path down my arms when I looked to the door at the back of the bar. A man in a well-cut suit walked through the door with a woman in a tight corset. A thin, leather collar hugged her svelte throat and curiosity churned inside of me. I tore my eyes away from the couple, worried I was staring, but snuck another glance over my shoulder as they slipped into the back room. I knew enough of what happened behind those doors. I knew the textbook explanation of it and the fundamentals. But how it felt? That was a question that I couldn’t get answered from reading and watching the filming of our movie. I pushed away my own memories of my mother being dragged around by her arm. Of my dad slapping a cookie out of her hand and sniping that she would put on weight if she ate it. “Just look at our daughter,” he had said, gesturing to me, on the couch with a bowl of ice cream. “She’s already a chubby thing because of you.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder if mom blamed me for him leaving… even just a little bit.

  My life hadn’t been truly my own until my freshman year of college when I tossed my closet full of mother-approved a-line skirts and polo shirts, and spent the next year in skin-tight jeans, dancing and drinking with my sorority sisters trying to “find myself.” Apparently, I only thought to look for myself at the bottom of empty bottles of Tito’s vodka. It took me a year and a half to realize that this party girl wasn’t me, either.

  Andrea squealed in celebration again and did a little victory dance behind the bar where she was supposed to be working.

  I ducked my head, hiding behind the vodka and Diet Coke Andrea had poured me. “Shhh,” I hissed, but she merely snorted, smiling in my direction.

  “Are you kidding me? My designs might be in the next Jude Fisher movie and you expect me to be quiet about it?”

  I sighed. Yeah. It was a long shot—Andrea wasn’t even quiet when we watched The Bachelor at home on our couch. I took a long sip of my drink through the straw. “You know,” I said, when Andrea returned from delivering a martini to a woman at the end of the bar. “You’re going to need a wardrobe to show them on Monday. Like… a wide array of clothes.”

  Andrea nodded and waved away my warning. “I’ve got designs coming out of my hoo-ha.”

  I scrunched my nose. “Well then, you’d better clean them before bringing them in.”

  Andrea crumbled a little napkin and threw it at me. It bounced off my cheek and landed right in my drink. With pinched fingers, I plucked the saturated napkin from my glass and put it on the bar beside me. “I’m serious though. My ass is on the line here. My boss flipped the hell out on me for even mentioning the idea of using an under-the-radar designer. She’s going to be nearly impossible to win over.”

  Andrea smirked and ran her fingers through her silky blonde hair. She was my opposite in every possible way. Blonde to my brunette. Tall to my short. Dark emerald green eyes that were perfectly proportioned to her dainty nose whereas my brown eyes were just a little too wide set behind my black-rimmed glasses. Andrea grabbed a bottle of gin and poured a couple fingers worth before adding soda water. Her small breasts were perky and strained against the tight black tank top she wore.

  I used to dress the same way a couple years ago. I stuffed my C-cup breasts into a too-tight push up bra. Poked my eyeballs every morning trying to put contacts in. Crammed my feet into high heels and my curvy ass into jeans so tight that I could barely breathe. As I swallowed the memory, it burned a path down to my belly. Screw that. What was it for? It was like a lie—I was never that girl. It was fun for a little while. Until it wasn’t. Until I stopped giving all the fucks about impressing the cute frat boy. Until I scratched my cornea and couldn't wear contacts or eye make-up for a week, and my boyfriend actually cringed at the sight of me. Cringed. Like I was the fucking hunchback coming down from the bell tower.

  But that was nothing compared to the way my mother ignored me when I came home from college for winter break. I was refusing to live by her rules anymore, and so she chose to pretend I didn’t exist. Ironic, wasn’t it? The one thing she was most afraid of in the world was losing me. So she held on too tight, nearly suffocating me in the process. Only to push me away when I didn’t fit into her cookie cutter molding anymore.

  “Honestly,” Andrea said, “I have a closet of my designs that I keep, ready to show local boutique buyers. I’ll be fine. What sort of designs do they need on set?”

  I sat back in my seat, closing my eyes in thought. What were the most iconic scenes in the movie? What would ‘wow’ Kelly and Ash? “Definitely bring that emerald green evening gown. It’ll look stunning on Marlena with her red hair and it’ll also reflect the green in Jude’s eyes.”

  “Do you have Marlena’s measurements? I’ll tailor it to fit her before the meeting so that it’ll look sensational and like it was made for her.”

  It was my turn to smirk. “I do have her measurements, and that’s a fantastic idea. Also, bring a couple of suits for Jude. They should be nice—high end. And if their quality doesn’t match Prada, Kelly will annihilate you. She wants designers, Ash wants off the rack. You’re the compromise.”

  Andrea scrunched her nose. On me, it would have looked clumsy, like I w
as smelling something foul. But on Andrea? It looked freaking adorable. Like she was a little bunny rabbit or kitten or some shit like that. “Off the rack? Gross.”

  I shrugged and chuckled inwardly. She might be more like Kelly than I bargained for. “He’s kind of right, though… These characters are wealthy, but not millionaires. A closet full of Givenchy would be ridiculous.”

  “Does Marlena need a work outfit, too? Something professional looking?”

  I nodded. “Professional but sexy. Unassumingly sexy.”

  Andrea gave me a look up and down. “Unassumingly sexy. Much like my best friend?”

  I snorted a laugh, looking down at my stained t-shirt and boyfriend jeans. Rolling my eyes, I said, “Oh yeah, that’s me.”

  Andrea tossed an ice cube at me. “Hey, it is you. And I would kill for your proportions! Those boobs, and that tiny waist. I mean, come on.”

  That’s what every woman said… until they had big boobs. Then they realized what a pain in the ass they actually were. Having to wear two bras at the gym. Bathing suit shopping. Finding dresses that fit you both north and south. “Anyway,” I continued, “be sure to bring a few pieces from your lingerie line and a casual outfit for both Jude and Marlena.”

  “Got it.” Her smile stretched even wider and she squealed again—this time quieter. “Thank you so much, Luce.”

  I waved her away. “Shut up. Like you wouldn’t do the same thing for me.”

  “Not if it meant potentially getting screamed at by my boss.”

  I sighed and stirred my straw in the dark soda. “Well, the bigger boss asked my opinion. What was I supposed to do? Ignore Ash freaking Livingston?” My mind wandered to Ash’s bright blue eyes; the way they held mine for way longer than comfortable. Did he do that on purpose? A tactic to unnerve his crew? Or did he feel what I felt? That tingly electricity between us. No. That was crazy. He’s a freaking Hollywood director—no way he was thinking of mousy little me that way. The man dated celebrities for God’s sake. You’re only mousy because you choose to be, another voice said inside of me and I shook it away. This was who I was. If someone wasn’t going to love the side of myself who dressed comfortably and wore eyeglasses, then I wanted nothing to do with them. Really, I wanted nothing to do with men in general—and had nothing to do with them. For over two years. Two years of just myself and my vibrator.