by T. A. Foster
“Dammit! Makeup? What is going on here? I’m calling it a day. We can’t get anything accomplished like this. Listen up! We’re getting back on schedule tomorrow, and I don’t care who you are, if you derail this production for even two minutes, you’re off the set. Everyone here is replaceable. That goes for you too, Evan and Emmy. Give her that message, will you?”
The director pushed the mechanical lever forward and landed on the ground with a thud. A train of assistants hustled after him as he barreled through the set and off the grounds of Magnolia Plantation. He never gave Evan a chance to respond.
The crew around me started breaking down the set for the day. Teams in white T-shirts shoved electrical cords in big black cases. The sound girls wrapped wire around their arms and placed microphones in protective sleeves like they were Faberge eggs. My mouth watered as I saw the drink cart wheeled off into the back of a van. I should have grabbed another diet soda for the road. Without constant fanning, the air was stifling. I shuffled all my script pages together and shoved them in the outer flap of my bag.
As I packed to leave for the day, I felt a poking sensation over my right shoulder blade. I turned around to see Evan Carlson smiling. His head blocked the sun, and the rays floated around his silhouette, giving him a total Hollywood look.
“Hey, again.” He grinned.
“Hey.” I pulled the strap over my shoulder and returned his warm gaze. I could stand here all day and stare at that face.
“Since it’s an early day, some of the crew members are getting together for drinks at Easy Eddies on Bourbon Street. I thought I’d see if you’d like to come with us or meet us there or something.”
He shoved both hands in his front pockets and rocked back on his heels. I noticed he had already changed out of his 1945 Navy uniform, and into cowboy boots and jeans. Jeans that fit like nothing I had ever seen on a man.
The flutter my heart made caught me off guard. “Wow. I’d love to. That’s so sweet, but I have so much writing to do.”
I patted the side of my bag, indicating the stack of papers that was sticking out in all directions. I didn’t even know where I’d start to write the movie out of the mess it was in. The dialogue wasn’t clicking for anyone.
“Darlin’, you’ve got plenty of time to write. We won’t be out late. Come on. Let me buy you a drink. Just one beer, or whatever you girls in North Carolina like to drink.” He winked at me.
Was I actually going to turn down a chance to have a drink with the hottest movie star on the planet? No, Holly would never forgive me and neither would I. Just look at him, he was perfect.
“Ok, you win. Just one beer.” I liked that I wasn’t being overly available. Maybe Evan liked it too. He was probably used to girls throwing themselves all over his gorgeous body. “Can I meet you there? I want to drop off the script and change clothes.”
My witchy wardrobe change didn’t last long in this heat. I could already feel my shirt clinging to my skin again.
“Yep. We’ll be the rowdy, embarrassing crowd taking over the bar.” He laughed. I liked his laugh. It was easy and genuine. “Don’t run away when you see us. Promise?”
I smiled at him. Who could run away from that face and voice? “Promise. Just give me”—I looked at my phone and calculated how much time it would take to get back to the hotel, dump the script, change, and meet him on Bourbon Street—“an hour. I’ll see you in a little bit.”
“Ok, Ivy. See you soon.” He walked backward a few steps, and turned to meet the rest of the crew waiting in the chauffeur-driven SUVs lining the exit of the plantation drive.
I couldn’t believe it. Was this really happening? I just scored a date, albeit a group date, with Evan Carlson. I let my inner girl squeal a little more. Maybe New Orleans was going to be the perfect place to get over a broken heart. And tonight would be the start—with Evan and a cold beer.
I FLIPPED through the few hangers in my hotel closet. Strappy sundresses and tank tops dangled from the wooden frames. I didn’t bring enough options to help me withstand the New Orleans heat while looking Hollywood fashionable. No, no, no. These were all wrong. I needed an outfit that screamed cool-girl, fun-girl, yes-Evan-Carlson-should-ask-me-out girl. My hands landed on a short, white sundress with wide peachy-orange straps, matching tie belt, and a slight V cleavage dip. I held it up to my chest and looked down at the cotton fabric. I scooped up the dress, my orange clutch, and grabbed the straw wedges on the top closet shelf. I fashioned a ponytail out of my long, blond locks and added hoop earrings.
The pages of the Masquerade screenplay still peeked out of my leather bag. I had dumped the heavy burden on the desk at the other end of the room. I had the same feeling I did in high school when I procrastinated on my algebra homework. I wrinkled my nose at the nagging reminder and dashed out of the door before I changed my mind. Evan was waiting.
Music poured from Easy Eddies onto Bourbon Street. I tipped my driver and stepped onto the curb in the alley near the bar. I walked around to the entrance. Low-hanging ferns lined the underside of the balconies, and bright yellow and fuchsia flowers dotted the vines climbing toward the upper levels of the gallery. Pods of people draped over the railings, taunting passersby with armfuls of beads. The sun dipped below the tops of the buildings, and it felt like the street was ten degrees cooler than the set at Magnolia Plantation. I took a breath and pushed past the small crowd gathered in front of the bar.
Easy Eddies was dark. My eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light as I scanned the crowd for Evan. A wooden dance floor took up one side of the bar. Round tables and chairs scattered across the floor made up the other half. The bartenders hustled back and forth, doling out fruity umbrella drinks and running blenders. The music shifted from a dance number to a country song I didn’t recognize. I heard a shout from the dance floor corner of the room.
“Thanks, y’all! That’s what I’m talking about. That’s Texas country music. Listen to this.” I spotted Evan at a table surrounded by men from the production crew. He pointed at the DJ in the music booth.
“Ivy! You made it.” Even in the smoky, dark room, I saw him flash his grin in my direction. He pushed his chair back, beer in hand, and walked toward me. Damn, he looked good, almost edible.
“Hey. Looks like y’all are having a good time.” I waved and smiled at the group in the corner sipping their longneck bottles.
“I thought I needed to educate them a little about Texas country music. Most of these guys are from California. They don’t know good music.” He laughed. “Want something to drink? Can I get you a beer?”
“Sure. What are you drinking? I’ll have that.” I watched as he tipped the glass bottle up, and his lips touched the rim. I wanted whatever was in that bottle.
“Darlin’, this is Shiner Bock. One beer comin’ right up. Why don’t you go say hey to the guys, and I’ll get your drink?” Evan pointed to the production group, and turned to place his order with the busy bartenders. I watched him and his perfectly fitted jeans order my beer.
“Hey, Ivy.” One of the guys pulled a chair out for me next to what I guessed was Evan’s vacant seat.
“Hey.” I smiled at the group gathered in front of me. I hadn’t memorized everyone’s names yet, and it didn’t help that the crew wore matching T-shirts on the set. The day on location had been kind of a blur. The morning was dedicated to edits with the creative writing team, and the afternoon was cut short when Emmy stormed off. Evan seemed to be in a great mood and wasn’t letting any lingering Emmy issues interrupt his fun with the crew.
“Dan.” The shorter man reached out and shook my hand. He looked like he was nineteen years old. “Glad you could meet us out.”
Evan sidled up next to me, dropped a beer on the table, and pulled his chair so that the armrest touched my arm. I smiled at him. “Thanks.” The beer was cold and smooth after the oppressive heat.
Three rounds of drinks later, our group had multiplied. Instead of five or six of us huddled around the table, ou
r party included couples, girls, and a few more people from the production crew. We spilled out into the rest of the bar, taking over most of the available stools and tables.
I recognized the girls from the sound team, and saw them cozying up to Dan and some of his buddies. One of them had her hand on Dan’s chest, and she was laughing hysterically at something he said. The others who had arrived with Evan were scattered throughout the bar, talking to girls who couldn’t stop eyeing my date and me in the corner.
Easy Eddie’s was now plunged into almost total darkness. Flickering lights from Bourbon Street filtered in through the half-closed slats of the hurricane shutters. Neon beer signs cast a glow on the group gathered on the opposite side of where we were sitting. I thought I saw a few phones emerge to capture pictures of the star, maybe even a few cell phone videos. I grimaced at the thought of ending up on YouTube and Vine tonight. Evan saw me shifting back and forth in my seat.
A cheer erupted in the bar when the DJ hit play on the latest number one dance song. I giggled as the crew flocked to the dance floor and started rocking out to the funky music. They couldn’t get out there fast enough. We had front row seats to watch arms, hips, and legs wave wildly in unison.
“Dance?” He held out a hand.
“You don’t care about the audience we have?” I looked around at the gawking girls. I was afraid if I left Evan alone for a second someone would pounce on him.
“Darlin’, if I worried every time someone was watching me or taking a picture of me, I’d never have any fun. Come on. Dance with me.” He smiled.
I glanced back at the crowd watching us, and then at the open palm he held out to me. I grabbed Evan’s hand and followed as he led me into the dancing crowd. I wiggled into a spot in the middle of the floor, laughing as everyone bounced around us. The dancers parted to make room for two more.
The few beers whirled in my body and fueled my feet. I moved with the music’s rhythm, and shimmied up to Evan as he locked his hands on my lower back. The music was definitely taking over, but I didn’t care. I freed my hair from its ponytail, and let my hands drift up in the air as the long strands tousled around my shoulders. He pushed his hands farther down on my rotating hips. I laughed at him and spun in a circle so that my back was pressed into his chest. His hands slid down my thighs as we bounced and rocked closer to the floor, and then jumped up with the beat. Evan was a great dancer, and I was having fun letting him and the music move my body.
I leaned my head back onto his shoulder, and he pretended to fan me. I laughed. He spun me around and put both hands on my shoulders just as the dance beat faded, and the single chords of an acoustic guitar ricocheted off the walls of the bar and pierced the night air.
The dancers dispersed back to their dark corners and beers, and only a few couples stayed to dot the wide-planked floor. They swayed to the echoes of the steel guitar. The DJ pulled his headset over his ears, and threw my dance partner a thumbs up before refocusing on the controls on his soundboard.
I peered at Evan with a suspicious grin. He shrugged his shoulders, grabbed my right hand, slid his other arm around my waist, and pulled me close to him. I let my body align with his, and sink into the notes of the music.
“I’ve got you.” The sexy tone of his voice sent ripples down my spine as he whispered in my ear.
He led me through the song with smooth steps, holding me firmly against his body. I pressed my face into the flat space under his shoulder. I inhaled the clean smell of soap. I muffled my inner giggle. Evan Carlson smelled like clean soap; that should be a headline. His white T-shirt was soft, and for a moment, I imagined myself nuzzling there for the night in that good-smelling spot. He looked down at me and smiled. I felt my cheeks flush, embarrassed he saw right into my daydream. I pulled myself up a little straighter and away from his shirt. He leaned in, pressed his palm into mine, and guided me around the loop the other dancers had started, slowly moving two steps at a time.
I wanted the DJ to drag the song out a little longer, but instead, the last notes dwindled and Evan’s DJ friend switched the bar back into high gear with a fast-paced number. Evan slipped his hand into mine and led me back to our table.
“Thanks, I haven’t danced in a while. That was fun.” I reached for my beer and took a sip. I was hot and the beer tasted great after a few spins around the dance floor.
“Really, a girl like you? You should be out every weekend having a good time. I bet you’ve got guys lined up wanting to ask you out. Oh, wait. I’m an idiot. Are you seeing someone? I’m such an idiot. Of course you are.” Evan’s smile vanished, and his stare dropped to the floor.
I reached over and put my hand on his leg. I paused, thinking I might have heard a gasp from our onlookers. “No, I’m not dating anyone.” I laughed. “I just stay really busy; especially now with all of the work for Masquerade. Not to mention, I’ve got to write something new.”
“You scared me for a second, Ivy.” He put his hand on top of mine and squeezed it. “That’s good news.”
Uh-oh. Where was this conversation headed? I was having fun. Dancing was fun and Evan was insanely cute, but was he asking if I was available, available? I wasn’t even sure what my answer would be. I mean, of course I was available, but what was going through his mind?
“Can I get you another Shiner? Another round?” he asked.
The energy in Easy Eddies was ramping up, and I had already stayed way past my self-imposed curfew. Those pages weren’t going to rewrite themselves. Evan’s friends were ordering another round of drinks, and it looked like the group was paired off for the night.
I glanced at my phone—perfect timing for me to leave before I said something ridiculous. “I’ve gotta go. Rewrites? Remember? Thanks for the beer and the dance.” I winked at him and grabbed my clutch.
“Let me walk you out and make sure you get a cab.” He pulled my chair out for me and led me out of the noisy bar with his hand resting on my waist. I liked the protective gesture.
I squinted a little as we walked out into the lamp-lit street and headed in the direction of the alley. My eyes needed to adjust after the cave-like dimness of Easy Eddie’s. Evan waved in the air for the next taxi trolling along the Bourbon Street border. He opened the door when it pulled up to the curb.
I turned toward him, hesitant to leave. I was definitely rethinking my decision to spend the night alone in my hotel room with a script. “Thanks again. I had fun and I liked the Texas beer.” He looked so tall standing on the curb, towering above me. Before I climbed in the car, he leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. Again, I thought I heard more gasps coming from the sidewalk. I wondered if it was like this for him wherever he went.
“I’m glad. Night, Ivy.” He closed the door behind me as I pulled my legs into the car, and he tapped the roof of the car, sending the taxi back to my hotel. He stuck his hands in his front pockets and watched as the car navigated through the side alley of the bar. I contained my inner squeal as we turned the corner. I couldn’t wait to get back to my room and call Holly. She wasn’t going to believe the night I had. I wasn’t sure I believed it.
“Illuminate.” I spoke the word into my dark hotel room with one hand reaching just in front of my chest. The reliable glowing orb bobbed above my palm as I scanned the wall for the light switch. Even at night, it felt stuffy. I pressed the down arrow on the thermostat until the blinking numbers wouldn’t drop any lower. I needed to cool off. I settled onto the king-size bed and pulled out my phone to call Holly.
I tapped her number. “Hey, you still up?”
I thought I heard a yawn. “Yeah, I’m awake. How’s New Orleans?”
There was only one way to share this kind of news. “Not much going on. But I did just get back from a date with Evan Carlson.”
“What? What? Are you kidding me?” My cousin was certainly awake now.
I giggled. “I’m not kidding. But it was really more of a group date. Although, I’m calling it a date.”
“I am so
jealous right now. Tell me everything.”
“I don’t even know where to start. Um, he bought me a beer and he asked me to dance. Slow dance.”
“No he didn’t.” I pictured Holly sitting on the edge of her bed in her pajamas. It was after midnight in Sullen’s Grove.
“Yes, he did. He did.” I smiled.
My call to Holly flipped back and forth between retelling every little Evan detail I could dish to her and creating strategies she thought I should employ for securing another date.
“Did you make plans to see him tomorrow night? A date?” Holly was as excited as I was.
“No. If he asks me out, then he asks me out. I’m not going to do anything to make it happen.” A quick image of me accidentally tipping in one of my mother’s love potions into the drink cart darted through my mind.
“Ivy, you’ve got to be kidding. He’s adorable. He’s amazing. You have to go out with him again. Have to!”
I laughed. “I’d love to go out with him, but right now, I have to rework this dang script. I can’t figure out why it’s not working for him and Emmy. Something isn’t quite right with the dialogue.” I glared down at the pages spread in front of me. I had propped myself up on the bed with a stack of fluffy pillows.
“Oh I know. You should fill in for Emmy during the next kissing scene. That could definitely help.”
True, I had thought about kissing those perfect lips more than once tonight, but I was trying to be serious for once. “Holly, there is actually something not flowing with the script.”
“Hmm…didn’t you say they changed a lot of the settings?” Holly was the first person who ever read Masquerade. She knew it almost as well as me.
“Yes, they have this elaborate set, and the scene when Luke tries to convince Josette to leave with him is on the steps of her father’s vacation house instead of inside her room. It’s too big or something. It’s not intimate enough.”
