by Alexa Land
“It’s from a guy.”
“Your boyfriend?”
I murmured, “I wish,” as I returned the phone to my pocket.
Riley asked, “What’s standing in your way?”
“His past. My past. Pretty much everything.” I turned to Phoenix and asked, “What time am I expected for the makeup consultation and my fitting?”
A timer went off, and he pulled a muffin pan of mini frittatas out of the oven as he said, “You have almost an hour. Plenty of time for breakfast.”
“You sound like Lorenzo.”
Phoenix smiled at me and said, “That’s probably because he messaged me this morning, and we had a nice chat. He asked me to try to encourage you to eat. He’s worried, because he thinks you don’t take care of yourself.”
Riley asked, “Is that the guy you wish was your boyfriend?” When I nodded, he said, “It’s sweet that he’s looking out for you.”
“I never realized how much I like that until recently,” I admitted. “I used to resist when people tried to help me, but it’s different coming from him. It doesn’t seem like he’s trying to take care of me because he thinks I’m too incompetent to do it myself. It just feels like he genuinely cares.”
Riley’s expression turned wistful, and he murmured, “I hope to have that someday.” He seemed so vulnerable that I actually found myself wanting to take care of him.
After breakfast, Phoenix drove the three of us through the charming town of Mendocino. The main street was lined with eclectic restaurants, art galleries, and boutiques. It was nearly deserted, maybe because it was cold and overcast, or just because it was off-season for the tourists that would flock to a place like this in the summer.
Our destination was about four miles north of town. Nearly half the movie was being filmed in and around a two-story house on a cliff above the ocean. It actually looked a lot like the one I was staying in, except this one was a darker shade of gray, and it had been altered to make it look like it hadn’t been cared for.
The property was flanked by trailers housing everything from the makeup department to craft services. Even though the actors weren’t due on set until Monday, a lot of people were already hard at work, including a camera operator filming the ocean to capture some B-roll footage, the lighting crew that was carrying armloads of cords and equipment in through the front door, and a member of the set department who was sanding the white trim on the house’s wrap-around porch to make it look weathered.
A jolt of excitement shot through me as I stepped out of the SUV and took it all in. Meanwhile, Phoenix tried to be unobtrusive as he snapped photos of me with his phone. I hadn’t been given the all-clear yet to talk publicly about taking over for Trent Chambers, but my assistant wanted to be ready. Sylvia had called him a genius when it came to social media, so I just let him do his thing.
Our first stop was the wardrobe department, which filled a temporary building near the edge of the property. Fortunately, Trent and I were close to the same size, and the clothes mostly consisted of baggy 90s-era jeans, T-shirts, and flannel shirts, which were pretty forgiving. The only things that didn’t fit were the shoes and a vintage leather jacket. Its sleeves were way too short, which made me think Trent Chambers had T-Rex arms. After I tried on some stuff and the assistant costume designer took my measurements, she said, “Well, that could have been a lot worse. I’m just glad we didn’t have to start from scratch.” She thanked me for coming in, then immediately got on the phone to track down a replacement for the jacket.
Phoenix told us he’d be back in a little while and headed to the production office while Riley and I went to the makeup trailer. “The lead makeup artist won’t be here for another half hour,” Riley said, “but would you mind if I tried doing your makeup? I’d love a chance to show her what I can do.”
“Knock yourself out.”
He turned on a bank of lights while I got comfortable in a swiveling chair, and then he took a few photos of me without any makeup, so he could show his boss the before and after. He’d been lugging a big, silver case with him, which he set up on the table beside me. After I slipped on a headband to hold back my hair, he dabbed some foundation on my cheekbone. As he stepped back to assess the color, he said, “I haven’t read the book this movie is based on. What’s it about?”
“Well, it’s about five people who’ve been friends since childhood, four guys and a girl,” I said. “The main part of the story takes place just after Christmas. Earlier that year, four of the friends graduated from college, and all five are spending a long weekend at a beach house they’ve visited every year since they were kids. It belongs to the family of a character named Liam, who’s the richest and most successful of the group. He’s being played by Harper Royce.”
Riley murmured, “Oh, he’s cute.”
“Liam just got engaged to Emily at Christmas. She’s played by Emma Rosen. So, this get-together is partly to celebrate their engagement, but it’s also a chance for the five friends to spend time together one last time before two of them move away. They all grew up in San Francisco, but now Liam’s gotten a job in London, and he’s taking Emily with him.”
“So far, this sounds like a nice story,” Riley said, as he wiped off the makeup on my cheekbone and tried a different color. “But I was under the impression it’s actually pretty dark.”
“I don’t know if it’s dark, but it’s definitely emotional. It’s basically the story of the end of these relationships. My character, Alex, dropped out of college and has been lost ever since. He’s gotten into drugs and alcohol and he’s starting to spiral out of control, but he’s trying to make his friends believe he’s fine.”
Riley met my gaze, then quickly looked away. I continued, “Alex ends up sleeping with both Liam and Emily, and right after that, he dies. It’s not clear in the book whether his death is suicide or an accident, but he falls off the cliff behind the house, and his friends discover his body the next morning. The rest of the story is basically a psychological study about the four remaining friends trying to cope with the couple’s infidelity and the aftermath of their friend’s death.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely dark,” Riley muttered, as he dabbed some makeup across my forehead.
“I guess so, but it’s also fascinating,” I said. “The book is extremely well-written and really makes you care about each of these characters, especially Alex. He could so easily seem like an asshole for trying to break up Liam and Emily, but the author makes you understand that this guy’s scared and alone, and he wants so desperately to hang on to these people. That’s not just because he’s been in love with Liam for most of his life, it’s also because this group of friends is the only real family he’s ever known.”
“It sounds like you have your work cut out for you with such a complex character.”
“No doubt, and there are a million ways to screw this up. If I do, I’ll be letting down so many people.” I recited the list to myself—my agent, the director, the studio, my costars, the author, the screenwriter, the millions of fans of the book. Myself. My parents.
“No pressure.” Riley exchanged his makeup sponge for a small brush and picked up an eyeshadow palette. I exhaled slowly, and he paused what he was doing and asked, “Are you okay, Will?”
“Yeah. Fine.” Okay, not really. I wondered if that was ever true when I said it. But this wasn’t the time to let my nerves get the better of me, so I met his gaze and said, “Please keep going.”
His dark brows creased with concern. “You sure? We can take a break if you want.”
I shook my head. “This is important. Show your boss what you can do.”
For the next few minutes, he concentrated on making me up. Then he swiveled the chair around so I was facing the mirror and said, “This was a rush job, but what do you think?”
The transformation was subtle but remarkable. I looked paler and younger. Thinner too, thanks to some skillful contouring. The biggest change was to my eyes, which looked wide a
nd haunted, a trick accomplished with delicate shadows and a few other techniques I couldn’t quite pinpoint. In short, I looked just like I’d always imagined Alex.
As I pulled off the headband and fixed my hair, I told Riley, “You’re amazing.”
He smiled shyly, then snapped a few more photos as he said, “The lead makeup artist already had this all planned out, of course, based on her meetings with the director. I’d been practicing the techniques on myself, because I didn’t think I’d have the chance to work on any of the actors.”
“Well, you totally pulled it off.”
When his boss arrived, she started to lecture Riley about overstepping his role as her assistant, so I decided to play the diva card. “He was following my instructions,” I said. “I asked him to make me up, and I’m thrilled with the results. In fact, I don’t want anyone but him doing my makeup for the duration of the shoot. That won’t be a problem, will it?”
This woman had been in the business a long time and knew to pick her battles when it came to working with temperamental actors. She pulled up a fake smile and said, “Of course, Mr. Kandinsky. I’d just like to give him a few pointers, and then I’ll assign him as your makeup artist.”
I smiled too and said, “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Riley was standing back with a surprised expression, but when she turned to look at him, he tried to look confident. They spent the next few minutes talking about their craft and trying a few different shades of makeup around my eyes, before she finally admitted they should go with his original choice. Before she left, she mentioned she’d be signing off on his work every day to ensure continuity, but she also said, “You did a good job, Riley. I’m impressed.”
Once the door closed behind her, he clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from yelling. When he was sure she was out of earshot, he blurted, “Oh my God, thank you! This is huge. Do you know what it’ll mean for my career to be able to list this on my resume?”
“I hope it helps, and I’m glad I get to work with you.”
Right after I removed the makeup, we were joined by the lead hair stylist. He rearranged my hair a few times before calling my curls ‘perfect for the character’ and instructed me to keep growing my beard between now and Monday. “It won’t be anywhere near full by then,” I told him, and he assured me he actually just wanted scruff. That I could do.
After he took off, Riley and I went and found Phoenix, who had a large envelope tucked under his arm. I asked him, “Is that all I need to do today?”
He said, “Actually, there’s one thing I’d like to show you,” before leading me to one of five trailers that were off by themselves at the edge of the production area. A plastic sleeve on the door held a hand-lettered piece of paper with two words on it: Will Kandinsky.
I murmured, “Holy shit,” as I reached up to touch my name. “I can’t believe I have my own trailer.”
Phoenix said, “Just so you know, I’ve asked them to replace this sign with a printed one, to match those of your costars. It’s good they took down Trent Chambers’ name, but they can do better than this.”
Riley asked, “Does it matter if it’s handwritten or printed?”
“It does to me,” Phoenix said. “Will deserves the same respect Trent would have received. Also, I don’t like the fact that this sign subconsciously conveys the message that he’s less important than the other actors.” That would never have occurred to me, but okay. He asked if I wanted to look inside, and when I nodded, he took two identical keys from his pocket and handed me one of them. Then he unlocked the door and held it open for me.
The interior was a surprisingly elegant composition of dark wood and earth tones, and it smelled like a new car. A living room with an entertainment center took up most of it, but there was also a small bedroom at one end, plus a miniature kitchen and a bathroom. Riley took a seat on the couch and exclaimed, “This is fantastic! It’s almost as big as my apartment in L.A.”
I ran a hand over the stone kitchen counter and said, “I know the only reason I have this is because Trent’s agent must have insisted on a trailer for him, but I’m really grateful for it. It’ll be so nice to have a place to hide when I’m not needed on set.” That probably made me sound antisocial, but it was the truth.
Phoenix asked some questions about stocking the trailer for Monday, and then he said, “I have the call schedule and your scenes for next week, so we’re ready to go whenever you are. What would you like to do next?”
“Could you please take me back to our rental? I want to start working on my lines.”
We returned to the SUV, and as we drove back across town, I leafed through the pages Phoenix had picked up. They included annotated sections of the script for the scenes they’d be filming in the upcoming week, and when I swore under my breath, Riley asked what was wrong.
“I’m shooting my character’s death scene next Friday,” I said. “I thought I’d have a chance to work up to that. Also, the first scene we’re shooting on Monday is with me and all four of the lead actors, and on Tuesday is my love scene with Harper Royce. Way to get thrown directly into the deep end.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” Riley said from the backseat. “I’d be scared to death if I had to pretend I was having sex with a total stranger while a huge crew filmed me.”
Phoenix shot him a look in the rearview mirror before glancing at me and asking, “Want me to help you run lines?”
“Thanks for offering. I’d love your help in a day or so, but for now I just want to work on them myself.”
“Okay. In that case, I’ll get to work on the social media audit Sylvia asked me to do.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re about to get thrust into the spotlight,” he said, “so I’m going to take a look at your social media presence across all platforms to see what we need to do to fine-tune it. The imagine you portray to your fans is important. Also, when I took a quick look at your Instagram yesterday, I noticed there was a lot of information about where you’ve been living. If you’re planning to return to that resort after filming wraps, you’re really going to want to edit or delete some posts, because right now any overzealous fan could just show up on your doorstep.”
“I really don’t know where I’ll be living when all of this is said and done, but that makes sense.”
When we returned to the house, my cat accompanied me upstairs. I shut the door to my room and changed into pajamas and a bulky sweater, then got comfortable on the window seat with the lines I had to memorize. Instead of getting right to work, I stared out at the turbulent gray ocean while Madame Leota settled in on the center of the bed and did a half-assed job of bathing herself.
As usual, my thoughts drifted right to Lorenzo, so I sent him a quick text and asked him what he was doing. He sent back a photo of himself sitting in the resort’s lobby with a book in his hand and Vee’s little blue parakeet on his head. I grinned and sent a photo in return. He called a few moments later and asked, “Should I be worried that you’re already in pajamas? You only do that when you need to be comforted.”
“I’m fine. Everything went well today. I even found out I’ll have my own trailer on set, which is going to be awesome.”
“That’s great, but something’s definitely bothering you.”
There was no point in pretending with him, not when he knew me so well. “Okay, so I’m worried about what we’re shooting next week, including Alex’s death scene. It’s a lot right out of the gate.”
“I wish there was some way I could help.”
“You are helping, right this very minute.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “So, how do you feel about the lines you have to memorize?”
“Actually, that’s going to be easier than I anticipated. Alex is in a lot of scenes, but he really doesn’t say much.”
“Do you think you might have the time to turn tonight’s video call into dinner and a movie? We can both order a pizza and wat
ch Netflix together over FaceTime.”
A huge smile spread across my face, and I told him, “That sounds perfect.” We spoke for a few more minutes, and by the time the call ended I felt so much better.
Chapter 8
Monday morning started off great. I woke up excited, and Phoenix got me to wardrobe, hair, and makeup with time to spare. I knew my lines forward and backward. I was ready.
Or so I thought.
I soon found myself on set with four of the hottest young actors in Hollywood. When the assistant director introduced me, Harper Royce was friendly, but everyone else seemed pretty indifferent. They’d all been told ahead of time that Trent Chambers was out, and they really didn’t care about the total unknown who’d been brought in to replace him. I hadn’t expected them to.
Gage Lang arrived on set and greeted me with a smile and a handshake. Then he gave us all a brief run-down of what he wanted from the first scene. A full crew had gathered in front of the beach house, and filming began right on schedule.
It should have been easy. All we were doing was climbing out of a car and grabbing our bags while having a conversation. The dialog was meant to volley back and forth, to show the long-standing friendship between these characters. But somehow, I kept blowing my lines. Because of the way the shot was framed with all five of us in it, every time I messed up, we had to take it from the top.
By our tenth take, I could feel the annoyance rolling off the other actors.
By our twentieth, I was pretty sure they all wanted to kill me.
Worst of all, I didn’t even understand what I was doing wrong. The director just kept saying things to me like, “Don’t overthink it,” or “Give me a little more, Will.” We’d start over and I’d make the tiniest adjustment, which was inevitably followed by, “Not that much.” After every cut, we’d all pile back into the car, wait for the assistant director to yell, “Cameras are rolling, and action,” and then we’d begin again.
