by Sk Quinn
‘In some ways yes, in some ways no.’
‘In some ways no?’
Marc shakes his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. Yes – I’ll be there on Monday.’ His lips stretch tight. ‘To see my old friend.’
18
As we leave the restaurant, Marc takes my hand and marches me along the street.
‘You can be very impulsive sometimes,’ he says, his voice low. ‘Agreeing to this before we even know if you’re pregnant or not … sometimes I forget how young you are.’
‘I’m not much younger than you.’
‘You’re five years younger.’
‘Do you think that’s a lot?’
‘More than you might realise.’
‘What are you saying?’
Marc shakes his head. ‘Nothing Sophia. I just … when I was your age I’d seen the world. Met dozens of directors. I would never have made a decision like the one you just made. Not in such a hurry.’
‘This is a great opportunity for me. I wasn’t rushing into anything. I knew it was right—’
‘How do you know?’
‘I just felt it.’
‘You haven’t even read the script—’
‘But I love all Nadia’s movies. And I knew Leo wouldn’t be keen unless it would work for us.’
Marc’s lips go thin. ‘I don’t know why you can’t just admit it. You’ve behaved impulsively.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ I snap. ‘Not everyone had Oscars under their belt before they hit their twenties. Acting is tough. I’m still unknown. I bet you took every part you were offered before you made it big.’
‘My father accepted every part I was offered,’ says Marc. ‘But when I started making my own choices I was selective.’
‘Not all of us are in the position where we can pick and choose.’
‘You were being impatient Sophia. If you’re pregnant and you get tired …’ He shakes his head. ‘Well it’s done now. Let’s just hope the doctor gives us good news. And that you’re not carrying a baby.’
My blood runs cold. ‘How could you say that?’
‘Because I care about you. Seemingly more than you care about yourself. You’ve jumped into filming before you even know what’s happening to your own body.’
‘I might not even be pregnant,’ I say.
‘But if you are?’
‘Nadia said she worked through all her pregnancies.’
‘And Nadia can drink most men under the table. You’re more fragile.’
I laugh. ‘Fragile? Maybe I’m tougher than you think. I lost my mum when I was still a child. And I practically brought up Samuel while doing my degree. Maybe you’re forgetting just who I am, Marc.’
I catch a glimpse of our reflection in a shiny delicatessen window. Marc is tall, dark, handsome and foreboding. I’m small and willowy, with wavy brown hair blowing in the breeze and a beautiful line of diamonds sparkling at my neck.
I put a hand to my throat. ‘Is this how it’s going to be now we’re married? Always arguing?’
‘If you recall, we argued before we were married.’
‘And I hated it.’
‘I don’t like arguing with you either.’
‘Are you going to tell me about Baz Smith?’
‘Tell you what about Baz?’
‘Oh come on. You didn’t invite him to the wedding. And you didn’t want to come to the costume fitting. And you haven’t kept in touch with him, even though you’re good friends. How come?’
‘Like I said. Men don’t do all that keeping in touch nonsense.’
‘Yes they do. My Dad and his brother—’
‘Look – I’m coming to the costume fitting. Baz and I can smooth out all our differences then.’
‘Differences?’
‘Forget I said that.’
19
The day of the costume fitting comes around quickly. Which is good. Because it means I’m a few days nearer to knowing if I’m pregnant or not.
I’m pretty excited about the costumes for this movie. They’ll be designed by Jennifer Perry, who’s made costumes for some of my all-time favourite films.
I sit close to Marc in the back of the limo, the script on my lap as we drive across London. We’re heading to a special wardrobe site, where there’s a whole aircraft hangar dedicated to fitting our costumes.
‘How many more times are you going to read that script?’ says Marc, a little smile pulling at his handsome lips.
‘At least ten more times.’
‘You must have read it that many already.’
‘I want to know it perfectly. I’m worried enough about some of these scenes. The last thing I need is to forget my lines.’
‘Perhaps you should have known the script better before you accepted the part,’ says Marc.
I let the script drop to my lap. ‘So I was impulsive. Okay? Happy now? Some of these scenes … I’m scared Marc. There’s some gruelling stuff in here. Sword fights and rope climbs and underwater stuff.’
Marc squeezes my hand. ‘I may regret saying this, but … you’ll be fine. I’ll support you. Okay?’
‘Thank you.’
‘And the next time you make an immature, impulsive decision I won’t point it out. I’ll wait until you work it out for yourself.’
I laugh. ‘Well thank you very much.’
Marc takes the script and flicks through the pages. ‘I think you’ll be okay. You’ll have a stunt double for most of the physical scenes.’
‘I will?’
‘Our agent will insist upon it.’
I can’t help smiling. ‘There are times I appreciate your controlling ways.’
‘Do you like the script? That’s the most important thing?’
‘I love it. Although I’m worried about the bedroom scene. Because I know you’re not happy about it. Despite you pushing me to explore myself as an actress.’ I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘So you can’t really complain now I’m being asked to do it for real.’
‘Yes I can.’
The limo drives through barbed-wire security gates and onto a site full of aircraft hangars.
‘Are all these hangars full of costumes?’ I ask Marc.
‘No. Some have costumes. Some have fabrics and sewing machines. Some have both.’
Marc knocks on the glass. ‘The second hangar on the left, Keith. The one painted red.’
‘You certainly know your way around,’ I remark.
‘I should do. I’ve been here enough times.’
‘You have?’
Marc nods. ‘And spent many a tedious hour in wardrobe.’
‘Many a tedious hour? You don’t like being fitted for costumes?’
‘Hate it.’
‘I’m not sure I’m going to like it either,’ I admit.
‘It’s every woman’s dream isn’t it?’
‘Not mine. Maybe I should have been born a man.’
‘Well I for one am very glad you weren’t. You, Sophia Blackwell, are just too beautiful for words.’
Marc trails fingers down my cheek. ‘And if you need any help getting unchanged …’
‘I’m sure the wardrobe people will be delighted to have your assistance.’ I breathe.
Marc’s fingers reach into my hair. ‘They’d better be.’
I see more security up ahead and lean away from Marc.
‘Shy, Mrs Blackwell?’
‘On the first day of my first movie? Yes. Very.’
20
We meet a security guard at the door of the hangar, who asks to see my ID.
He stands back to let us in, but Marc barks, ‘Hold on a minute. Why haven’t you asked to see my identification?’
The security guard gives a little laugh. Then his eyes widen as he realises Marc is serious. ‘I thought … I mean, you’re Marc Blackwell. Everyone knows who you are.’
‘You need to check everyone’s ID,’ says Marc. ‘Never presume to know who someone is.’
‘Apologies sir. I didn’t want to d
isrespect you by asking—’
‘It’s a much greater disrespect to let someone into the hangar with my wife without checking their ID.’
‘Of course sir. Apologies. It won’t happen again. Do you need a map of the hangar?’
‘No,’ says Marc. ‘I know it well.’
‘And you have the studio number?’
‘We have it.’
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ I whisper to Marc, as he leads me into a maze of corridors.
‘Your safety is important,’ says Marc. ‘And that security guard should have known better.’
‘He probably feels really stupid now.’
‘Not as stupid as he’d feel if anything happened to you while he was on duty. Look – I’d say the same thing to anyone not doing their job correctly. Nadia. Anyone. And I’d hope someone would do the same for me. If I made an oversight.’
‘I like that about you. That you see everyone as equal. You don’t think you’re better than anyone. Just because you’re rich and famous.’
‘Rich and famous?’ Marc raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I was speaking to Gossip Magazine.’
‘Seriously though. You treat everyone the same.’
‘I don’t treat you the same.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning I put you on a pedestal. And worship you.’ Marc takes my fingers and kisses them. His lips feel warm against my skin.
I glance around to see if anyone is watching. But the corridors are empty.
‘You’re still feeling shy about public displays of affection?’ Marc asks.
‘Sorry. I just don’t want to be splashed over the front cover of a newspaper.’
‘There are no press here. But Sophia – you will be photographed. Very possibly for the rest of your life. That’s just part of my world. I hate it but it’s how things are.’
‘I guess I’m still getting used to that idea.’
We reach a studio marked ‘F2: Rapunzel Costume’.
‘Do you think the other actors will be here yet?’ I ask.
Marc checks his watch. ‘If history is anything to go by, Leo won’t be on time. And neither will Baz or Nadia. None of them were punctual people when I worked with them.’
‘How will it be seeing Baz after so long?’ I say, wanting Marc to tell me more about the ‘differences’ he mentioned earlier.
‘It will be interesting.’ Marc opens the studio door.
21
‘Wow,’ I breathe, looking around at rails of costumes. ‘I feel like I’ve died and gone to fairyland.’
The studio itself is simple. Concrete floor. Metal roof. And plasterboard partition walls. But what’s in the studio is incredible.
Rails and rails of the most fantastic outfits, from fairy princess gowns to wicked witch boots and medieval soldier swords.
‘I thought we were being fitted for costumes,’ I say. ‘I didn’t realise they’d be made already.’
‘Nadia works a little differently to other directors,’ says Marc. ‘She and the costume designer come up with hundreds of finished pieces. And the actors choose what suits them. What they feel comfortable in. Then the costumes are altered. Nadia thinks it helps get the best performances. And the spare costumes are brought out again for other movies. Or auctioned off for a small fortune.’
‘I can see they’d make a lot of money.’ These are no ordinary movie costumes. They’re quirky, original and artistic, with cool little details like waterfalls of glittering silver spikes and gold-chain spider webs.
From the crowns and helmets to the shoes and boots, everything has Nadia Malbeck’s style – that edgy, gothic look that’s part of her success.
There are so many rails that we can’t see most of the room. But a loud, manly laugh tells me Leo is in here somewhere.
Marc’s grip on my hand tightens.
Nadia appears from behind a rail. ‘Ah ha! Well, hello, you two. Come through here. Leo and some of the gang have already arrived, but we’re still waiting on Baz.’ She winks at Marc. ‘Baz is never on time. He’s worse than me.’
Marc raises an eyebrow. ‘No one could be worse than you.’
‘Oh Marc, that is not true. Not these days. I’ve grown up a little bit. It’s hard to run a movie without keeping to schedule.’ Nadia links arms with me. ‘There’s coffee and churros back here.’
‘Churros?’
‘Spanish doughnuts with chocolate sauce.’
‘Yum.’
‘Exactly! And hey – I have some news. We confirmed our wicked witch this morning. Finally.’
‘I’m a little jealous of whoever has that part,’ I say. ‘She has some great lines.’
‘I’m glad you think so. So you’ve had a really good look at the script now, right?’
‘More than a good look,’ says Marc.
‘And I love it,’ I smile.
‘Okay. That’s good.’
‘So who’s playing the wicked witch?’ I ask.
‘Oh we have landed someone fabulous. Just fabulous. Sigourney Seymour. You’ve heard of her, right?’
Beside me, I feel Marc tense up and wonder why.
‘Ri-ght,’ I say slowly. ‘Um … Sigourney Seymour the model?’
‘Right! She’s never been in a movie before but she is just perfect. I’ve seen her auditions and she really can act. I guess modelling and acting are pretty similar. Cheekbones to die for. The best face. Well, she was the Chanel girl after all.’
‘Um … didn’t Leo used to go out with her?’ I say.
‘Yes but …’ Nadia shrugs. ‘You know how LA is. Everyone dates each other. If I paid attention to that stuff I’d never cast anybody.’
‘I think he was pretty hung up on her at one time,’ I say. ‘She cheated on him and he was heartbroken. Are you sure he’s okay with her being in the movie?’
‘Well if he isn’t, it’s too late,’ Nadia laughs. ‘We’ve had such a nightmare with that part. There’s no way we’re finding someone else now. No way. We’re already too close to the wire. Anyway. Why don’t you ask him yourself?’ Nadia pulls me around the clothes rail. ‘He’s right here.’
22
Behind the clothes rail, Leo lounges on a red-velvet sofa. He’s sipping coffee and chatting to a tiny, pretty girl who has glowing white skin and curly blonde hair.
The girl’s eyes are huge and blue, and her lips pink and puffy. She’s kind of sporty looking. Healthy, anyway. She looks really familiar, actually … but I can’t place her.
‘Hey, hey!’ Leo bellows. ‘If it isn’t my leading lady.’ He stops smiling when he sees Marc. ‘And escort. How are you doing buddy?’
‘Very well thank you,’ says Marc, his tone clipped.
‘Sophia Rose, meet Ruby Tallow.’ Leo gestures to the girl beside him. ‘Ruby is playing the Fairy Queen. And Sophia – well Ruby you know Sophia is playing Rapunzel.’
‘Great to meet you,’ Ruby smiles. Her accent has an Australian twang and she looks so familiar.
‘You’re trying to place me, aren’t you?’ says Ruby.
‘Yes,’ I admit. ‘I’m really sorry. Did we meet before?’
‘Remember Trust Street? The Aussie soap opera? I was Tally.’
I laugh. ‘Oh yes. I used to love Trust Street. But your hair was …’ My hands go to my curls.
‘Totally ironed straight on camera,’ says Ruby. ‘Yep. No one knows I’m a secret curly girl. Good to meet you Sophia. I wish I’d seen you in Beauty and the Beast. I didn’t have a chance – I was in Sydney while it was running. I heard great things.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And Marc Blackwell!’ says Ruby, her grin broadening. ‘I’ve seen all your movies. But I bet everyone says that. I even had your picture on my wall when I was a teenager.’ She winks at me. ‘Bet you did too, huh Sophia?’
I laugh.
Marc slips his hands into his pockets. He looks thoughtful. Too thoughtful.
‘So who are we missing?’ Leo asks.
‘Baz and Sigourney,’ says Nadia.
I can’t help sneaking a glance at Leo. But he looks fine. Relaxed as ever.
‘You can save the eyeballs, Miss Sophia Blackwell,’ says Leo. ‘What – do you think I’m freaking out because my ex-girlfriend is in the movie?’
‘Aren’t you?’
‘Of course not. That was over a long time ago. Years have passed. Sigourney must have grown up some in that time. Isn’t that right Marc?’
What the hell …? Why is Leo asking Marc that?
Marc frowns. ‘Indeed.’
‘Marc, do you know Sigourney?’ I ask, a little confused by Leo’s comment.
‘In a manner of speaking.’
We hear the squeak of the door.
‘Ah ha!’ says Nadia, leaping to her feet. ‘Another new arrival.’
23
Nadia hurries around the clothes rail. A second later she reappears, dwarfed beside the tall, muscular bulk of Baz Smith.
‘Look who I found!’ she beams, her tiny arm threaded through Baz’s thick tattooed one.
Whoa.
Baz really is big in real life.
He’s the same height as Marc, but his bulky muscles make him much wider. He wears a tight, grey vest and jogging bottoms. There are tattoos all over his body, including his thick neck.
His dark hair is closely shaven and his brown eyes roam the room, unsmiling and dangerous.
When Baz’s eyes fall on Marc, he frowns. ‘What’s with the suit, James Bond? Where do you think you are – the fucking Ritz or something?’
‘Coming from a man wearing his pyjamas, I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Marc replies.
The two men eye each other sternly for a moment.
Then Baz bursts out laughing and slaps Marc on the shoulder.
‘Good to see you mate.’ Baz grabs Marc’s hand and shakes it furiously. ‘Fucking hell, it’s been years hasn’t it? Fucking years.’ He puts a hand to his mouth. ‘Oops. Sorry about that, ladies. I should watch my language.’
‘I’m Australian,’ says Ruby. ‘You don’t need to watch your language around me. I’ve heard it all.’
