“Whose fault is that?” Lucy asked with a cocked eyebrow.
“They’re perfect,” Emma remarked to Vanessa. “Completely perfect.”
Vanessa nodded while Lucy and I frowned at each other. “Perfect?” Lucy asked. “What do you mean?”
“You’re a snob and he’s a big dumb jock,” Emma answered. “Just like Eva and Will.” Vanessa laughed and motioned the waiter to bring another round. Lucy and I exchanged another frown.
“I’m not a snob,” Lucy said after a beat, blue eyes wide and defensive. “Really!”
“You notice she doesn’t defend me against being a big dumb jock,” I chimed in. “Sounds a bit snobby to me.”
Lucy smirked. “You’re a very bankable, charismatic, and good-looking, big dumb jock.”
I blinked. “Okay, I’ll take that.” She thought I was good-looking? That was the best news I'd heard all day.
“Perfect,” Emma repeated quietly, mostly to herself. “Just perfect.”
12
Lucy
The good news was that my period ended before I had to squeeze my size six body into a size two Tinkerbell costume in front of the camera, God, and everybody. The bad news was that acting while the cameras were rolling and remembering all the blocking and lines while I did it was a lot harder than a table read. And for some reason, acting the part of Eva without Peter on set playing Will was really, really hard. Especially with Darcy and Santiago both giving me a constant lowkey death-glare from stage right.
“Okay everybody,” Vanessa called after four lousy takes of the same short scene. “Let’s take five.”
The actress playing Will’s sister frowned at me. She was great, but I was falling flat and robotic. Maybe Darcy was right. Maybe this was the limit of my acting and deception abilities. Maybe I wasn’t capable of pulling this off. I took a deep breath and looked around for a bottle of water. A text buzzed my attention down to my phone.
Darcy [10:02 a.m.]: You should just give up.
Lucy [10:02 a.m.]: Thanks for the feedback, but I’ve got this. Just let me work, ok?
Darcy [10:02 a.m.]: I’ve seen corpses with more charisma than you.
Lucy [10:03 a.m.]: I bet you have. Want to tell me where you buried the bodies too? I’m sure the families want to know. And the Feds.
Darcy [10:03 a.m.]: Oh please. Don’t even try to make me feel guilty. I’m the victim here.
Lucy [10:04 a.m.]: Oh really? Do tell. Because your stupid scheme to make me a princess backfired on you massively? Do you really think you could convincingly play a twenty-two-year-old? Aren’t you like 40?
Darcy [10:05 a.m.]: You can't seem to convincingly play anything today, so maybe you aren’t in a good position to be criticizing me.
Lucy [10:06 a.m.]: Thanks for the pep talk Darcy. Lose my number.
Darcy [10:03 a.m.]: I feel so sorry for you. Every time I think about you it just makes me tremendously sad.
Lucy [10:03 a.m.]: Oh really? That’s funny. I don’t think about you at all.
My phone buzzed again, and I frowned when I realized it was my mom calling and not another mean text from Darcy. I was relieved for two seconds until I read the text.
Dana Bergen [10:07 a.m.]: Your Mormor isn’t feeling well today. Can you take us to the emergency room after work?
My blood pressure spiked. I called my mom back. Mormor was sick?
“What’s going on?” I asked in Swedish.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” my mom answered in English. “I’m sure everything is fine, but she’s got a high fever and is sneezing and coughing. I’m worried she’s got the flu from one of the bridge club ladies.”
“Didn’t you both get the flu shot at the free clinic?” I kept to Swedish just in case someone was listening.
“She wouldn’t. She said the vaccine is only for the old and sick.”
“She’s eighty-nine!”
“What’s your point?” The women in my family were very long-lived. My mom and Mormor both believed they would live to one hundred and twenty, and they were probably right.
I sighed. “I’ll be there as soon as I possibly can.”
“Thanks sweetheart.”
I sat down and pinched the bridge of my nose. An ER bill was not something I could absorb at the moment, but I didn’t see another way. One of my friends, Aimee, was a doctor but she’d taken off on a four-month sabbatical with her husband. At least I’d soon have a steady source of income, unless I got fired, of course. Correctly interpreting my stressed-out expression, Vanessa drifted over.
“You’re overthinking all of this,” Vanessa told me. “Just be yourself.”
I gulped down a big mouthful of water. “I don’t even know who that is half the time anymore.”
Vanessa laughed. She seemed like a really easygoing person, unlike most of the directors I’d encountered so far. Usually their ego-to-talent ratios were all out of whack, but Vanessa seemed, well, nice. “Who does?” she asked me. “That’s perfectly normal. Just fake it.”
She thought I was joking? Christ. I wished that I was joking. I swallowed.
The truth was that being a princess-slash-actress all day and then going home to a voicemail from my Mormor that said the city turned off their water and power again was pulling me apart. I needed my first paycheck to hit so I could get the utilities turned back on. Unfortunately, it would be another week. I shook my head to try and clear it of worry and focus on what Vanessa was saying.
“There’s this saying in Swedish,” I told Vanessa. “It means, literally, ‘to shit in the blue locker.’ It’s when a person is really, really in over their head. My grandmother likes to say it when she’s lost. I’m worried I’m there.”
“You’re worried that you’re shitting in the blue locker?” Vanessa repeated. Her green eyes were confused. She was trying to understand the idiom. “Why the blue one?”
“Great question. I dunno. It’s just blue. Anyway, people say it when they’ve gotten too far down a path or they’re overwhelmed. I’m afraid I might have shit the blue locker with this scene,” I admitted. “It’s just not working.”
“You haven’t shit in any lockers yet,” Vanessa told me. “I promise I’ll tell you when you do. Now just try the scene again and don’t try to be anyone but you. We cast you because your style is naturalistic with Peter. So just do the scene as Lucy. If it’s not good, we’ll try something else.” Her tone was encouraging, but I was doubtful.
Peter drifted in just about the time we were supposed to be shooting again, which made sense because we were supposed to be filming a scene with him next. My stressed-out heart did an impressive little somersault when I saw him in costume.
The character of Will Davidson had kind of football-goes-cowboy vibe. Peter had been outfitted in battered, low slung faded jeans, a tight-fitting dark T-shirt, mussed hair, and western boots. No cowboy hat, at least for the moment, but he managed to nail the country-man-of-my-dreams look without it.
Suddenly, the desire to be done with this scene without Peter and onto the next one where we’d be kissing was overwhelming.
Be yourself.
Be casual.
Don’t try too hard.
Don’t faint.
Don’t shit in the blue locker.
Be natural.
It was all good advice. Now I just needed to take it.
“Come on, Eva!” my costar called from just offstage. “We’re gonna’ be late!”
I swallowed, looking off camera in the direction of her voice and seeing Peter watching interestedly. Genuine nervousness blossomed in me. Despite everything, I could feel the scene starting to work. I could just channel my real fear. Maybe this would work after all. Maybe I could just method-act my way out of this mess?
“Just a second!” I replied. The lines suddenly felt much more natural and the horrible robot sound was gone from my voice. I turned back to the false mirror and pretended to look at myself. “I’m just not sure I can go out in public dressed like this...�
��
13
Peter
“Lucy’s not right for the role,” I heard Darcy telling Vanessa at the next break. “She’s awful. We have to put a contingency plan in place.”
Vanessa looked unconcerned. “What? I think she’s doing great. Is this because she was a little stiff and awkward this morning? That’s totally normal, especially for day one. Her last few takes were great. Lucy’s turned the corner. I was happy with all the rest of her scenes with Anya.”
Darcy saw me listening and her expression shifted. “Peter, do you like her?”
“Lucy? Sure. I mean this is day one of shooting, but it seems good so far.” I shrugged my shoulders. I hoped it wasn’t too obvious I had a crush on my unattainable, royal costar. Honestly, I wanted this conversation to be over so I could film my scene with her. The one where we kissed.
Darcy’s dark eyes flashed. That wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear. “You don’t think she’s too immature?” she asked.
I blinked. “Immature? This is an ingenue role, so I think some immaturity is good. I think she’s perfect.”
Darcy frowned deeply. “We’re all going to regret casting her.”
“She was your idea, Darcy,” Vanessa said. “Don’t worry. You made the right choice.” She placed a hand on Darcy’s shoulder comfortingly. Darcy stared at her so coldly that Vanessa pulled the hand back. Darcy walked away and toward her assistant, shaking her head.
“What’s going on with her?” I asked Vanessa.
Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Honestly? I think she had someone else in mind for the role. Someone she didn’t think we’d like. I reread the contract last night. It said that after two rounds of auditions if we still had no lead, Darcy could pick the lead actress and there was nothing any of us could say about her selection.”
“She probably really wanted Brie Larson.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Are you ready for this scene?” Vanessa asked me. Lucy was already ready, standing in her Tinkerbell costume and looking self-conscious.
I nodded, hiding my enthusiasm behind a professional smile. “Whenever you are.” We were shooting a flashback scene where Eva and Will hook up at a Halloween party.
Vanessa smiled. “Let’s do this.”
“Cut.” The scene wasn’t working. “Okay, guys,” Vanessa said. “I want to try something different.”
We were on our one millionth take and neither one of us was exactly nailing it. I hadn’t even gotten to the part where she dared me to kiss her yet. Lucy stared at the ground, clearly discouraged. I felt out of my depth. For some reason, things were a lot more awkward than I expected now that the cameras were rolling.
“I want you two to fight before we do this next take,” Vanessa said. “The dynamic here needs to be more adversarial. You’re both being too nice, and guys, it’s really boring. You’re flat.”
“You want us to fight?” I asked, looking at Lucy and then back to Vanessa. I’d shot a lot of action movies where I beat on people (or pretended to), but that seemed like the wrong move here.
“Argue,” Vanessa clarified. “I need you to get some energy.”
“About what?”
Vanessa shrugged. “With you two? Probably anything. Peter, what’s your favorite movie?”
I thought about it for 0.2 seconds. “Well, that’s easy. Jaws 3-D. Hands down.”
Lucy’s eyes flashed up in my direction. “Your favorite movie is Jaws... 3-D?” she asked, frowning. She looked at me like she must have misheard.
Vanessa sat back in her chair, hiding a smile.
“It is, yeah.” I took in her frown. “Why?”
Her eyebrows were almost in her hairline. “Not Jaws, Spielberg's seminal horror classic? But Jaws 3-D?”
Seminal horror classic? Oh please. There was only one shark in that movie worth killing. One. Booooring.
“Jaws is fine. I like it. But Jaws 3-D is better.”
Lucy looked like she’d swallowed something sour. “Out of all the movies in the world, your favorite movie is Jaws 3-D? The one where all the most emotive characters are fish puppets?” Her tone was condescending.
“Okay, what’s your favorite movie?” I asked. “Citizen Kane?”
“Casablanca.” She smiled like the correct answer was obvious. “Definitely Casablanca.”
“Isn’t that a little cliché?”
“Dude, you picked Jaws 3-D. You’re in no position to judge.”
Did she just call me Dude? Do princesses call people Dude? She was mystifying. And kind of rude.
“Have you actually seen Jaws 3-D or are you just assuming it’s bad because it’s a sequel?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not about that. Sequels can be great. The Godfather II is arguably the best of the three. Same with The Empire Strikes Back.” She drifted closer to me as she talked, clearly emboldened.
I stared down at her, mildly annoyed. “You didn’t actually answer my question. Have you ever seen it?”
“I don’t need to see it to know it’s bad,” she said. “I just needed to know the tagline for the film was ‘the third dimension is terror’.”
The fact that she knew the tagline was impressive. She was clearly a film buff. But that didn’t change the fact that she was wrong.
“Okay, Princess. Whatever you say.”
She jabbed her little index finger in my direction, just an inch from my chest. “Don’t call me Princess.”
“Don’t call me Dude.” I paused. “Princess.”
“Okay,” Vanessa interjected. She looked visibly encouraged. I’d forgotten we’d been coaxed into fighting. It had felt entirely natural. “That ought to do it. Let’s go again.”
“I know when to admit what I want, Will. Do you?” Lucy’s soft voice was teasing, and her baby blue eyes flashed with something dark and desperate. The scene was almost over.
I grabbed Lucy by the shoulders, backed her up two steps, and pinned her back to the refrigerator. Her breath caught in her throat, but she stared up at me unblinkingly. Her pink lips parted expectantly, and she placed a careful palm on my cheek like she was stunned that I was real. I couldn’t believe that she was. This entire take felt like a dream.
We were pretending there was a party in the other room. We were pretending that we shouldn’t be doing this. In the story, I was heading to the NFL in three days. She was heading to the world of academia. Our two worlds would never intersect again (until the next scene, which took place several years later).
When I kissed her, I wasn’t acting. I also wasn’t aware of the cameras on the soundstage. Or the crowd of people watching.
I just saw her. Not a character in a movie. Not pretend. Lucy. I didn’t know who she was, not really, not inside. But in that moment, I knew I had to find out.
My lips sought hers hesitantly, then demandingly. The book version of Eva was five foot nothing, but Lucy was only three inches shorter than me. In heels, she was exactly my height, that is, exactly the right height, as far as I was concerned. I’d never gone for the petite girls. I wanted someone closer to my size. Someone I didn’t have to worry about breaking when I got a little bit rough. And I liked to get a little bit rough.
Lucy certainly didn’t seem to mind. Her fingers curled into my hair, pulling me closer. She tasted like the Altoids mints from the craft services table, sweet and minty fresh. Mints were always discreetly put out prior to kissing scenes.
I held her against me, dropping my hands from her shoulders to her waist. She was corseted so small that I could nearly reach my thumbs and pinky fingers together and it was sexy as hell. She arched her back, whimpering against my mouth and I felt myself nudging her feet apart with mine. I needed to get closer to her. She spread her legs and I moved to lift her up. She locked her ankles behind my back.
“Cut.” The voice from my right was a tiny whisper. Lucy had all my attention. She was suddenly the center of the universe.
Lucy whimpered a tiny, nearly ina
udible little noise into my mouth. Her fingers tightened in my hair. I wanted to hear all her noises. Was she loud in bed? Timid? Demanding? Did she swear in Swedish when she came? That would be adorable. I wanted to know. No, I needed to know.
I was wondering how hard it would be to unlace her corset with her back against the refrigerator or whether I could just yank it off when someone said “cut” again, only louder. I ignored it. Lucy’s fingers left my hair and pulled weakly against my T-shirt.
“Cut!” a voice hollered. It sounded mildly annoyed.
I blinked, pulled back, and looked around. The entire cast and crew were staring at us. I dropped Lucy like she was on fire and she stumbled back into the refrigerator.
Vanessa had one eyebrow cocked and a satisfied smile on her face. Lucy was the color of a ripe tomato and her eyes were the size of dinner plates. The blood attempted to make it from below my waist and back up to my brain, but it was a few full seconds before I realized what I’d just done.
Oops.
“That take was better, but this isn’t that kind of movie, kids. I think we can call it a day. Good job everybody.” Vanessa was obviously fighting the urge to laugh. Lucy took off like a rocket in the direction of her trailer. I stood speechless in her wake.
14
Lucy
“I just can’t do this,” I moaned at Daniel from the relative privacy of my trailer. I was moments away from a full-on anxiety attack. The corset definitely wasn’t helping either. In an effort to contain myself I buried my face in my hands and squeezed my eyes shut. I bent over and put my head between my legs. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t...”
Daniel was obviously and understandably confused. He stood uncertainly in front of me and patted my shoulder awkwardly.
“There, there.”
“We should just go,” I told him. “I can’t do this.”
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