Lost in Scotland

by Hilaria Alexander

  “Lavender?”

  “Heather,” he replied. It was breathtaking. Mountain after mountain was covered in purple flowers, alternating with the deep green of other peaks. The view was majestic, one of those moments that made you think God had to exist, whether you believed in him or not. It was simply too spectacular.

  “Good God, it’s beautiful.” It was. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen in my life. It was so gorgeous, my chest filled with a strange, warm feeling, and tears threatened to escape my eyes. I found myself fighting to hold them back. I looked up to him, and he smiled proudly. From the way his eyes shined, I could tell he was equally moved by the astonishing landscape.

  “You’ve made the right choice, Sam. Scotland is the perfect place to start over.”

  The first few days on set were brutal for several reasons.

  The main one was that we were still adjusting to our new schedule. We woke up early in the morning, went to the set, and got started on our to-dos, which would go on and on all day—get the actors ready, then the extras, then all the touch-ups throughout the day. When we got home, we were exhausted. Cecilia went straight to bed the first three nights. Another reason was the weather. Scotland was showing off its range of moody weather all at once or so it seemed.

  I realized, in hindsight, that the beginning of August had actually been fairly forgiving. Toward the end of the month, it started raining more and for longer periods of times. “It’s Scotland, what do you expect?” people said, but it was hard for someone like me to get used to it. It rained every motherfucking day, and it seemed there wasn’t a way to escape it. The rain was there, greeting us when we’d leave for the set in the morning. It was there on and off during the day, a lot of times affecting our shooting schedule. I felt like I was shivering constantly.

  I shouldn’t have been complaining because the actors and the extras were the real troopers. They were the ones wearing costumes that weren’t waterproof, and they had to deliver their lines in awful, frigid conditions. I sighed with relief whenever we had interior scenes to shoot. It made everyone’s job much, much easier.

  We had been preparing for about two weeks, but things were different when cameras started rolling. Even though we had been trying to get ready for this, we were suffering. No one talked about it, but you could see the exhaustion all over people’s faces. After spending the first ten days hanging out in a pub almost every other night bonding with the crew, Cecilia and I made the decision to abstain from alcohol all week until our days off and to supplement our diet with several vitamins. Just like the actors, we couldn’t afford to get sick, and we had to keep our energy levels up. It was vitamins and unlimited cups of coffee that got us through the first grueling days.

  There were two hundred people in the crew alone, so even though we technically met everyone at some point, we couldn’t actually say we knew each person working on the production. Little by little, we got to know most of the crew and the actors.

  One morning during our first week, Hugh walked by my station with a towel still around his neck to protect his costume from the makeup Margaret had just applied. He noticed me and said hello.

  “Hi,” I replied with a smile. It was a simple hello. Unfortunately, it didn’t go unnoticed. As soon as he was out of earshot, Cecilia came up to me.

  “I thought you didn’t know who he was,” she teased.

  “I Googled him since then. Plus, we met a few days ago.”

  “Boo! You whore. When was that?”

  “It was early morning, and I couldn’t sleep. I went out on a hike, and I met him while he was out.”

  “And you chatted him up? Well played, Sam. I didn’t know you had it in you. You look all shy and quiet, and instead, you’ve already put the moves on him,” she said, giving me a once-over.

  “I did not put the moves on him. We just had a conversation for crying out loud.” I felt my cheeks redden, and I looked down. I didn’t want to be teased by Cecilia about Hugh. I loved her spunk, but she liked to talk. The last thing I wanted was to become the subject of gossip the first week on set. I was determined to stay out of trouble.

  Our days went pretty much the same way every day: we got up early in the morning, spent all day on set, and dragged ourselves home in the evening. Most times, we were utterly worn out. After a few weeks of this, Nora noticed morale was down, and she tried to get us together on Friday night so we could all unwind and socialize. The local pub—the biggest one in town—was the one chosen for our meet-up, and it just so happened that Friday night was karaoke night. I didn’t think anyone in our group was that shy to begin with, but when Nora told us we would have to pay for a round if we refused to sing, everyone was game. As much as I didn’t enjoy the limelight and never cared to be onstage, I was a sucker for karaoke. Karaoke mania had exploded everywhere when Amira and I were children. Our dad got us a system, and we had dozens of tapes. We’d sing every day, much to the dismay of our poor mother. I believed that was when Amira’s star quality began to emerge. She would be the one encouraging me to learn songs and practice duets and routines with her. It was one of our favorite things to do, and I had so many great memories of us putting on shows for our parents.

  Because no one wanted to put up with having to pay for a round for such a large group of people, everyone got over their presumptive shyness rather quickly, and as beer and whisky kept flowing, our group became rowdy and loud.

  I was drinking with Rupert, Cecilia, Altus, and Oliver. Rupert was a lighting director, and Altus and Oliver were lighting technicians. The three men were engaged in a heated conversation about Chelsea, Manchester United, and some other soccer team I had never heard of. Cecilia was listening to their conversation, and she chimed in from time to time to talk about one of the teams and their players. She seemed to know names, roles, and whatnot. I, on the other hand, didn’t have a clue about soccer.

  Cece and I were drinking our pale ale and waiting for our turn to sing. A lady named Miranda was singing a near-perfect cover of Mariah Carey’s “Heartbreaker,” and a lot of people were singing and dancing along. I couldn’t help thinking of the heartbreaker I had left behind. I looked to my right and spotted another one.

  Jake had been buzzing around me for the first couple weeks, but because I didn’t give it up to him fast enough, he had moved on to an attractive redhead who worked as a set decorator. I was neither jealous nor looked at it as a missed opportunity, which told me I had made the right decision by not dropping my panties for him. He didn’t look like Eric at all, but there was something in his mannerism that reminded me of him—his ambitiousness, maybe, or the way he almost demanded attention.

  Cecilia pointed her chin in their direction, getting my attention.

  “He could have been yours, Sam. Why did you let him go? Did you not fancy him?”

  “He’s a good-looking guy, but that doesn’t mean he’s the guy for me.”

  “Not even for a little bit of fun?”

  “I don’t know if I’m looking for fun right now.”

  “I thought you just got out of a long-term relationship.”

  “I did,” I sighed.

  “Don’t you want to forget about your ex with a hot rebound?” she asked, raising her voice over the music. In that moment, everyone around us seemed to look our way. I rolled my eyes. She somehow always seemed to draw attention to us at the worst time.

  Life on the set was already complicated as it was, and everyone tended to get nosy about everyone else’s affairs.

  “Could you please lower your voice?” I asked her, my voice betraying irritation.

  “Sam, come tomorrow, no one is going to remember anything.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” I grumbled.

  “I guarantee it. You clearly haven’t seen how pissed British and Scottish people can get. Everyone is going to have a major hangover, and no one will remember what they overheard at the bar. They won’t even remember their own embarrassing karaoke performances,” she
said, pointing at the guy from the lighting department who had decided “I’m Sexy and I Know It” was a good song choice. I laughed and shook my head.

  “They’ll just remember they had a good time. Nora was right, we needed bonding time.”

  “I guess so. Do you know what you’re going to sing?”

  “Did I put in my request? Oh, yes I did,” she teased, and I raised my eyebrows at her, curious. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly tell you. It’s a surprise,” she said with an air of mystery, fluttering her eyelids, shimmying her shoulders.

  “Oh, Cece! You’re such a tease!”

  “Okay, so…if Mr. Perfect Smile is not your type because he’s a bloody womanizer, what would the guy for you be like?” she asked with a flirty smile.

  “Loyal.”

  “I meant looks-wise.”

  “I don’t really have a type. I like men who know how to treat a woman and that are not cheating bastards. They don’t have to look a certain way.”

  “All right, so you want someone who’s loyal. What else? There’s got to be more than that. Go on.”

  “Humble. Someone who doesn’t take himself too seriously. Someone who’s protective of his partner but who also encourages them to reach new heights.”

  “Got it.” She looked behind me and waved. “Hey, Hugh!”

  I turned around and found Hugh right behind me, hanging out with some other actors.

  “Cece, Sam,” he said, giving us each a nod of his head. How long had he been behind me? And had he heard what I’d just said? I gave Cecilia a look, and she responded with a sly smile. What game was she playing? I loved her, but sometimes she drove me crazy.

  “Hugh!” she called him again. “Could you keep my girl company for a bit? It’s my turn to go up there to sing, and these blokes are no fun with their soccer talk. Plus, I’m about to give you two something to talk about, aye?”

  My jaw dropped at her bluntness, but I quickly tried to recover. I heard Hugh laugh behind me.

  “I’ll keep Sam company. Don’t worry, Cece, she’s in good hands.”

  Cecilia winked at him, and then poked Oliver on the arm. “You better watch, mate.”

  Hugh leaned closer to me. “What is she going to sing?” he asked.

  “I have no idea. She didn’t say, that little minx.”

  “Are you two getting along?”

  “Very much so. She’s a spitfire, but I like her. I think we’re a good combo. She’s vivacious, and I’m quiet. How about you? How are you getting along with your costars? I got to talk to Melissa yesterday, and she’s a sweetheart.”

  “She is,” he replied, but his eyes never left me. I liked Hugh, but when I was around him I felt uneasy, though not in a creepy way…more in a I wouldn’t mind having some fun with you kind of way, despite what I had just told Cecilia. I was attracted to him; I couldn’t help it. He was handsome, and from the few exchanges we’d had, he seemed kind and down to earth. His eyes were magnetic, and I found myself fantasizing about him more often than not.

  In fact, ever since our hike on that early morning, he had become a fixture in my dreams. It got even worse after I saw him act on set one day—shirtless, nonetheless—as I was on standby for touch-ups. Because of Margaret’s pregnancy, we had been training with Margaret and Blair, so we had been working closer to the main cast.

  Unfortunately, because of the growing crush I had on Hugh, I had a really hard time making small talk, which probably made me look either stuck up or plain stupid, especially since he was always so nice when we crossed paths.

  The music started, and I found myself mouthing an Oh my God!

  Cecilia was singing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend,” but it was the cover from Moulin Rouge, the one that’s a mashup with Madonna’s “Material Girl.” My petite roommate was even more of a firecracker when she held a microphone, apparently.

  She crushed the song, and everyone cheered her on.

  “What are you going to sing?” I asked Hugh.

  “Oh, no. Didn’t you know?” he said with a frown, eyebrows pulled together. “Actors are exempt from Nora’s rule.”

  “You’re so full of it! Actors are not exempt. Alyssa was one of the first to sing tonight!”

  “That’s because Alyssa loves the spotlight,” he said, cocking one eyebrow, his voice deep. Alyssa played one of the three love interests, the sexy seductress. The female roles in the books were a bit stereotypical for my liking, but I was hoping that as the story progressed, the main actresses would have more substantial material and would be able to give their characters a little more depth. Alyssa Northam had a Broadway background so, yes, technically she was showing off a bit with her “Everything’s Coming Up Roses” song from Gypsy, but she was always very nice to everyone, and I liked her even though she sometimes sounded like Jenna Maroney from the show 30 Rock.

  “You need to sing. I’ll make you.” I poked Hugh’s rock-hard bicep with my finger. Apparently, a glass of whisky was all I needed to be able to hold a conversation with him.

  “I am a terrible singer.” He sighed.

  “You’re an actor. I’m sure you could make these people believe anything, including that you know how to sing,” I told him with conviction.

  He laughed. “And how am I supposed to do that, exactly?” he asked with a look that was a mix of amusement and confusion.

  “I mean…you could pretend to know what you’re doing. You might not have the strongest voice, but I’m sure you could disguise it somehow.”

  “I wish, but no amount of acting could disguise my singing voice. I’m doing everyone a favor by sitting this one out, Sam, I swear.”

  “I find that hard to believe. Nora is trying to build comradery, and you refuse to participate. You’re not helping.” The alcohol in my system was making me feel all happy-go-lucky, and I poked his bicep again. Damn. It was hard as a rock. He watched me with a serious expression. Oops. Maybe I was crossing the line.

  He’s cast, and you’re crew—remember that.

  “Maybe one of these days you could sing with me? We’ll do a fun duet.”

  He laughed at my insistence. “Are you always this persistent? Didn’t you just call yourself a quiet girl a minute ago?”

  “I said I was quiet. I didn’t say I was good.” I winked, and he seemed to be taken aback. That was definitely the alcohol talking. He inhaled sharply, and then gave me a flirty, tight-lipped smile. There was a certain twinkle in his eyes, and I found myself fantasizing about kissing him—but the enchantment was broken rather quickly, thankfully. As soon as Cecilia’s song ended, they called my name to sing the next song.

  Sam

  We were bonding, all right.

  I had just started singing “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen, and someone had passed along a fake mustache for me to put on. I already had on my leather jacket, and apparently, someone thought I needed to get into character. I groaned.

  Show people—they were the goddamned worst!

  “Good grief! Who goes around with fake mustaches in their pockets? Damn makeup artists!” I yelled into the microphone, and everyone laughed.

  “You’re missing your cue!” Margaret yelled with a laugh.

  “Freddie Mercury didn’t have a mustache when this song came out!” I protested. Queen was one of my favorite bands, and I knew for a fact that when the video for this song was shot, Freddie Mercury was clean-shaven. The mustache came later on.

  “Just put the damn thing on!” someone else chimed in.

  “You’re all going to pay for this,” I said into the microphone while pointing my finger at everyone who was yelling for me to get a move on. I shook my head at Margaret and Cecilia, who were nearby and put the mustache on. Whoever oversaw the karaoke machine even had the balls to restart the song.

  Fine. I glared at all of them, but they laughed and cheered.

  I put the mustache on and more cheers followed. Drunktards, I thought, but then I smiled under my mustache. As I started to sing, I did feel more and
more in character. I commanded the audience as Freddie Mercury himself would have. Amira used to say that when I sang, it was as if I shed my skin and left it behind, revealing a completely different side of my personality. I loved music, and I loved the way it could make you feel brand new and fearless. I loved the way it made you feel connected to other human beings, and that night, even though we were just singing silly songs at karaoke, we were connecting. I didn’t have a particularly good voice, but I knew I was an okay singer. I could keep a tune.

  I hit almost all the notes, and I gave it a bit more by adding a few of Freddie’s signature moves. At some point, someone hustled me up on a chair, and I found Hugh in the crowd. I pointed to him and gestured for him to come join me, but he just shook his head and smiled broadly. The way he looked at me made my stomach fill with butterflies. I didn’t care that I had everyone else’s eyes on me. That didn’t make me nervous at all. The way Hugh was looking at me, however, was unsettling.

  I had to look away to keep my nerve and finish my song, but I felt his eyes on me the whole time, and when I was done, I could see him cheering and clapping from the corner of my eye. I turned in his direction for just a second and smiled big, and then I took a theatrical bow worthy of Freddie Mercury and made my way back to him.

  Nora had been right—karaoke night did help. We got to know people outside our department, and we were now more familiar with people we hadn’t known that well before. After my ballsy performance of “Don’t Stop Me Now,” I had gained the nickname Freddie around the set. I wasn’t mad about that; being nicknamed after one of my idols was the least of my worries. Work was still stressful, and we were still striving to find a balance. Karaoke night had been fun, but I felt we needed to do more as a group as much as our schedule would allow us.