by Mira Bailee
“Where’s…?” I start, but Maddie looks flustered. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. Your wrangler said she had to grab something.”
“Are you referring to me as livestock?”
She laughs, and the unexplained darkness in her mood lifts away.
“Ms. Margot. If you don’t mind, we need you in makeup,” a quiet voice says to my right.
The voice belongs to a short, round woman who’s had a little too much plastic surgery. Her makeup is caked on, and I’m worried she’s going to do the same to me. I let her lead me to a corner that’s partitioned off by tall curtains. Inside, it looks just like a little dressing room. A vanity is set up covered in trays and bottles of makeup and hair products. A big mirror surrounded in lights makes the entire space bright. A rack of clothes waits to one side where another crewmember is sifting through the options. He’s taller and in a suit with a measuring tape draped around his neck like it’s a fashion accessory.
“Drake, Ms. Margot is ready.” The woman pats me on the shoulder and then leaves the makeshift room.
Drake turns around, takes a moment to evaluate me, and then grabs two hangers in a very decisive manner. “Put these on. I’ll be back in one minute.”
He leaves as abruptly as he speaks, and I survey the outfit he’s handed me. A slightly low-cut, dark green top and a pair of khaki dress pants. I change into them both, relieved it’s nothing more…glitzy. Checking myself in the mirror, I can tell this outfit is meant to send a mix of signals. The collar and buttons on the top make me look casual, even professional, but the low neckline should draw in the eyes of men who prefer to be persuaded by means other than words and facts. I look like I could be attending a business meeting, giving a presentation, or strolling along the beach. The versatility of this outfit is almost fascinating.
Drake pops back in exactly sixty seconds after he left. He briskly walks to the rack and retrieves a thick belt, some jewelry, and a pair of heels. He works fast but doesn’t speak, looping the belt around my midsection over my shirt, clasping a gold necklace around my neck, and places the heels at my feet for me to step into. I can’t tell if he’s rude or focused, but I kind of appreciate the quiet.
As a final touch, he flicks open the top button of my shirt, revealing a decent amount of cleavage. Once more, he takes me in from head to toe and then, “Roz,” his voice bellows through the silence and the woman returns. “Makeup.”
He walks out again. Roz smiles to me and motions toward the chair in front of the mirror. After a few minutes, and a surprisingly light touch, Roz has my skin glowing, my eyes bright, and my whole face camera ready.
“Thank you,” I say. My voice is starting to tremble. This is becoming very real.
Back out at the lights and cameras and…set, that’s what it is, I take a deep breath. Maddie and Devon stand off to the side having their own conversation. They look up as I appear and give me encouraging smiles. Maddie adds in a big thumbs up.
A man in a black t-shirt and torn jeans, carrying a clipboard waves me over. He gets me positioned on the stool, my back turned to the bleachers. He checks a camera and has me pivot more to the right. He adjusts the camera angle to bring a basketball hoop into the background of the shot. Another crewmember comes over to me and holds a small box to my face.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Light meter. Make sure you look perfecto!”
Roz comes up next with a powder brush, dusting my face across my forehead and down my nose.
As I sit there—my only job right now—other people come up to me, one after another, like they’ve lined up to do so, to fix my hair, adjust my shirt, move a light.
When the fiasco is over, someone goes to the gym door, opening it wide. In small clusters, high school students enter the gym, stopping at the doorway to receive instructions, and then making their way to their designated marks.
Some end up on the bleachers behind me. Others are directed to stand in casual conversations on the gym floor. Others are told to enter or exit from another door behind me. I try to picture all this from the camera’s perspective. I’ll be front and center, and behind me, it’ll be like school’s in session—a totally natural occurrence. Completely and undeniably “natural”.
I bounce my leg and squeeze my hands together, tempted to wipe the gathering layer of sweat onto my pants. An unnamed crewmember comes over with a towel. She hands it to me with a kind smile, and I try not to look like a fool drying my hands.
“Here,” she says. “A trick I like to use.” She pulls a bottle from her pocket and squirts a white lotion onto my hand. “Rub them together.”
As I do, the scent of peppermint drifts upward. I breathe in the soothing smell and feel my entire body relax a little.
“It’s got essential oils in it, and the lotion itself dries into a sheer powder that’ll help keep those nervous palms under control.”
She turns and walks back to her spot. I want to thank her, my anonymous heroine. Feeling a little more calm, I watch as the man with the clipboard holds a hand up. The crew falls silent. The students fall silent.
“Once we’re rolling,” he says, “my extras know what to do. Remember the blocking we practiced yesterday. And Olivia, you’ll simply read off the cue cards. Ready?”
“Mhmm.” Or not at all. Just read off the cue cards. Simple.
“And…rolling… Action.”
It was anything but simple. After six takes, I’d stumbled over every line at least once, and I almost toppled off the stool while acting “natural”.
After the last “Cut!” the director says, “Let’s take five and try again.”
I exhale a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and stand up to stretch my legs. I close my eyes and remind myself to calm down. When I open them, Devon fills my view.
“You’re doing great,” he says.
“I don’t like liars.”
He smiles and runs a hand through his messy hair. “Fine. You’re a little…new to this. But you’ll get it.”
“It’s that stupid line I have to say about Jared. My younger brother was a victim of bullying. He died in a school much like the one I’m in now. He was attacked in the woods. He died in a hospital. It’s not…I don’t know…It’s not accurate.”
Devon takes my hands in his and brings them up to his face, kissing them. “I know it’s rough. And it’s true it’s not going to be factual. It’s Hollywood. They want investors, donations, attention. Don’t think about the parts that are wrong. Think about the good it’ll do.” He drops my hands and lifts my chin. “Think of the good you are doing.”
With that, he gives me a quick kiss on my lips. It’s over too soon, but I know what he was doing. There are invisible boundaries between us right now. He’s being careful not to cross them.
But since I’m the one who made them…
I reach around his neck and pull him back to me. My mouth collides with his, and I kiss him with all the emotion I can put into it. I close my eyes to soak him in. He smells like comfort. He tastes like adventure. His arms find my waist and draw me closer. The rest of the world disappears.
Well, not entirely.
My concentration is broken by the sound of dozens of high schoolers hooting and hollering and whistling as they cheer us on.
I break away from him, my cheeks burning from the attention of a room packed with hormonal adolescents.
The director asks if I’m ready for another take, and I nod. I sit back down, and Roz comes over to touch up my makeup—mostly my lips.
Two takes later and it’s done. I can’t say I’m proud. I’m sure ninety percent of the footage filmed today is a wreck. But they’re the professionals, and when they said, “That’s a wrap,” there’s no way I was going to argue.
I get up and accept another kiss from Devon. This time, the high schoolers disperse and there’s no embarrassing cheering. I savor Devon’s tasty lips, but then I’m caught off guard by a raised voice out in the hall.
She’s visible through the open door. I watch as she raises both hands to accentuate some point. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but by her face, it’s obvious she’s angry.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” I tell Devon, removing my hands from his warm chest.
I leave the gym the way I came in. Now I see Maddie’s in the middle of berating Natalia.
“Hey, hey!” I step between them. “What’s going on?”
I look from Maddie’s enraged face to Natalia’s big smile. “We’re fine, Olivia. Just having a discussion about some—”
“No. Don’t even try to play it off like it’s nothing.” Maddie looks like she could strangle the girl, but after everything Natalia’s done for me and what she’s working so hard to do for my brother and others who suffered the same treatment… I can’t let this stand.
“Maddie! I asked you to come because I knew you’d support me. I knew you’d be excited about all this. You can’t be attacking the people I work with. This is supposed to be a professional environment. We need to be mature.” The look of surprise is startling, like I’ve just betrayed her, so I follow with an apology. “I know you probably mean well, but—”
She puts her hands on her hips. “You know what? You’re right. This is your business, not mine, so I’ll stay out of it. In fact, I’ll wait in the car until you’re done.”
“You don’t have to do that. I—”
“Oh no, it’s fine. I don’t want to mess up the professional atmosphere of a high school. But you might want to ask your boss here if you’ll be needing to write your speech yourself or if they’ll have a professional write the words for you.”
“What are you talking about?” I turn to Natalia, who’s frozen in place.
Behind me Maddie makes one final argument. “I’m starting to see through your bullshit,” she tells Natalia. “It’s only a matter of time before Olivia sees it too.” She stomps down the hall, which is now much emptier than before. Unlike the schools you see on TV, these students actually attend class.
“I wanted to let you know how great you were in there.” Natalia is still grinning ear to ear. Had she even heard Maddie? No wonder my best friend got so mad. She clearly wasn’t getting through to Natalia, and nothing infuriates her more than not winning an argument.
“What was she talking about, Natalia?”
“It’s no big deal. We’re working on the final plans for the gala, and were thinking a quick five-to-ten minute speech would be great from you.”
“Whoa. That’s not what we agreed on.” I look down the hall in time to see the school doors close behind Maddie.
“I know it wasn’t in the original agreement, but really,” she laughs, “neither was this shoot, and you did fabulous. Now you’re kind of the face of this whole thing, so wouldn’t it be great for you to get up there on the big night?” She pats my shoulder. “You know, be the star?”
It makes sense, doesn’t it? And I guess if I can get in front of the cameras, then—but I don’t—it’s not what we agreed to. Dammit. I shouldn’t have been rude to Maddie. If she were here, she’d have my back….And she had. That’s what the whole argument was about. I’m an ass. Now I’m going to be in over my head.
“So what do you say? We can help you prepare. We can even have it written for you by an experienced speech writer.”
“Yeah…I mean, I guess that’s—”
“Great! You’ll be perfect. Let me make a few calls.” She turns on her heel and walks toward a connecting hall. The magical lotion must have worn off because my palms are damp and my heart is racing. No, no, no. I can’t do this. It’s not me. It would go horribly wrong.
“Wait,” I shout. “Natalia. Stop.”
She turns back with the same plastered smile. How long has she practiced that?
“I can’t. I mean,” I try to sound firm. “I won’t.”
She walks back toward me, and I catch a subtle huff as she gets nearer. “Of course you can.”
“No. And it’s not up for discussion. We agreed I’d attend the gala. I specifically said I couldn’t be involved more than that, and yes, I went ahead with the TV thing, but that’s it. I’ll be at the gala Saturday. Devon will be with me. I’ll fulfill my end of the bargain, but I’m not available to do more beyond that. Okay?”
I hold my breath waiting for her rebuttal. I don’t have much argument in me, but if my options are to speak up now or on a stage in front of tons of guests, I can take on my one-woman audience.
“Okay,” is all she says.
I wait for more. Looking away, I catch a glimpse of Devon walking toward me. He could stand up for me, though I think I’m doing an okay job myself.
Her smile’s faded, and when she spots Devon she snaps her focus back to me. “You’re right. I’m sorry I was going to push for more. I’ll see you Saturday. It’ll be fine. Friends?”
“Of course.”
She gives me a quick hug and leaves to get back to work.
Devon comes out and stands behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. He speaks low into my ear. “Everything alright?”
Mmm. Definitely, now that I have him this close. “Everything’s fine.” Actually, it’s pretty great. I stood up for myself. I got the result I needed. One point to Olivia! Maddie would be proud.
Oh shit, Maddie.
“I gotta go.” I turn around and kiss Devon quickly. “Maddie’s waiting in the car. I’ll see you Saturday.”
The good news is, I got to take home my camera debut outfit. The bad news is, Maddie was silent the whole ride home.
We go into the quiet apartment, and before Maddie can retreat to her room, I say, “I’m sorry, okay?”
She stops in her doorway and looks back at me. “It kind of sucks you defended Natalia without hesitation, when I’m your best friend. The one who knows you better than anyone else. The one who knows there’s no way in hell you’d stand up in front of a crowd and talk about Jared.”
“You’re right. I’m an asshole. And I’m sorry. I told Natalia no, though. She tried to convince me it would be the right thing, and I held my ground. I said no.”
“Good.” She turns to go in her room, and pauses again. Without looking back at me, she says, “I’m proud of you, you know? You’ve come a long way in a short time. Standing up to Keenly. Standing up to Devon. Now Natalia. Hell, even me.” She laughs. “My girl’s growing up.”
I smile. She’s right. I have been more vocal lately. I’ve felt different too—like I’ve gained confidence and found my own strength. And I know what stubborn sexy man to thank for that.
Devon.
My phone’s buzzing on my nightstand in my pitch-black room. It’s got to be eleven or twelve at night. I look closer.
1:00 a.m.
And it’s Devon calling. Something must be horribly wrong. I fumble with the device as I hit the button to answer it. I clumsily sit up in bed and mumble a, “Hello.”
“Hey baby. I’m right out front. How about you let me in?”
It doesn’t even sound like him. I mean, it’s his voice. That sexy gruff is unmistakable. But if it wasn’t for that, I’d think someone stole his phone and was playing a prank.
“You’re here?” I need a mirror. No way am I presentable right now. My hair’s in a high, crooked ponytail, and I’m wearing only an oversized t-shirt.
“Come see for yourself,” his voice teases me and I hear a quiet tap at my front door.
Holy shit. He’s really just stopping by in the middle of the night. I scramble out of bed, my phone still pressed to my ear. I click on a lamp, pull my ponytail down, and comb my fingers through my hair, all the time telling Devon, “I’ll be right out … I’m on my way.” I check my face in a mirror and wipe at my smudged eyeliner. I should know better than to go to bed without cleaning all my makeup off. “One more second,” I tell Devon.
Finally, I check my breath and spray myself with a quick mist of perfume. I swear I’m not over doing it.
I just…okay, I’m over doing it.
“Alright,” I whisper into the receiver. “All ready.”
I sneak through the living room, hoping to not wake Maddie. Since ditching Corey, she’s been taking extra shifts at the bar the past couple nights, determined to make enough money to do something else with her life—her words, not mine.
I reach for the doorknob, still talking to Devon on the phone. “But what are you thinking—”
I open the door, and sudden paralysis sends my phone toppling to the floor. The thump of it snaps me out of my shock. “Devon? What the hell?”
He stands there, one arm gripping the doorframe to support him upright. A layer of sweat covers his body. His shirt is all disheveled, along with his hair. And his eyes… The pupils are so large, it’s like I’m facing a wolf in the dead of the night.
“There’s my beautiful girl,” he slurs. “Get dressed. Go back in there.” He points into my apartment while walking in at the same time, his body following his pointing finger. “Go back in here and get dressed. You. Me. We’re going out.”
His voice carries across the silent apartment. I hush him while pulling him into my room. “Maddie’s asleep. What are you doing here?”
I get him into my room and shut the door. He hurries to my desk shuffling things around. “You should change.” He lifts up some papers and looks behind books in quick, jittery movements. He looks like a paranoid schizophrenic searching for proof he’s being watched by the government. His words come out in excited fragments. “You waiting for? Going out. Come on.”
“No Devon. We’re not. Are you…? What are you on?”
He laughs and moves to my closet. “A little whisky. A little white.” White? Does he mean…He sniffs and continues, “More in my car if you want to try.” Shuffling through my clothes, he starts pulling down shirts and skirts and a winter coat that’s completely inappropriate in this California climate.
