“Looks good,” Pettibone said, most of his attention on the set. “Hang that picture a little lower, there…what’s your name? Susie? Do me a favor, yeah? Two inches lower.”
Pettibone patted Shelly’s shoulder. “I hear good things, Shelly. Only good. Let’s let tomorrow worry about itself, shall we?” He moved away to walk through the set, check the camera angles, and chat with the crew. She could see they admired him and watched him at work, charming, directing, teaching, showing. How did he do that? And that quote. She’d have to research it. Seemed like a good maxim to live by.
*
Day Five - Interior - Morning
“I’m so sorry, Danny. Guess I forgot to set my alarm.”
Fred followed Danny to the makeup trailer, apologizing all the way.
“It’s okay. I understand. Slept in myself this morning.” He kept his feet moving, even though his heart was back on the porch, a glob of confusion. Were he and Shelly having a little tiff, or was her anger at whatever he’d done her way of breaking up? Did they have enough of a relationship to break? He stopped in front of the trailer door and rubbed his empty chest.
“You okay?”
“I don’t know, Fred.”
“You’ll be fine. Better than fine. You got this.”
Fred repeated the assurances while setting up his camera out of the way of the beauty parlor chairs perched before huge mirrors and lights. Danny greeted the makeup artists, the solid and happy-looking Glenda and wispy, dark Jules. Glenda ushered Danny to her station. “You didn’t react to anything the other day, hon?”
“I don’t think so. My skin didn’t itch or turn red. And the makeup came off fine with that cream stuff.”
“Okay. Here we go. Yeah, Fred, you can film. There? Sure. But don’t expect to get her in the shot. You know what she’ll do.”
Jules giggled, a strange sound from a man, but Danny shrugged it off. He didn’t understand what they were talking about, but since he knew next to nothing about everything and Shelly had just accused him of listening to rumors, he didn’t feel like asking.
Shelly, what happened? He wished there’d been time right then to work it out. He’d track her down later. Danny felt funny sitting there, wrapped in a blanket with his hair all pulled back. He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to stare at himself in the mirror and went over his lines.
I am not the bad guy here, Nadine.
(It’s Madam Mayor to you.)
All right, Madam Mayor, as a sworn, publically elected official, it’s your duty to see beyond the moment—this one moment of glory. What about the future?
(blah, blah)
Nadine, I’m talking about more than the future of the speckled prairie warbler…what was next? Something about “our” future.
“You ready, Danny?”
Danny pulled out of his reverie when Fred called his name. Glenda had been doing something nice to his skin, something warm, but now she rubbed something bracing over him. He winced. “Oh, right. Just studying and practicing my lines. Inside my head.”
“Don’t over-rehearse them,” Fred advised. “It won’t come off natural. Ready to roll for the vlog.”
“I’m supposed to look where?”
“In the mirror.” The light began blinking.
“Seems like I’m talking to myself,” Danny said to his reflection. Glenda smiled as she leaned in and dabbed different hues on his cheekbones. He watched, fascinated until Fred cleared his throat.
“I guess I need to talk some about yesterday.” He paused, unsure how much was pretend and how much real. What could he say that wouldn’t have repercussions later if he talked about his feelings for Shelly?
“Practicing for interviews was hard at first. That’s part of my grooming for the movie publicity.” He made a face at himself. “I never knew being on shows like that was really all rehearsed, just like a scene. We’re still acting, playing a part for the fans. I’ll be Winston Daniels. Guess I’m still figuring out who he is. Oh! One thing that went great yesterday was finding the prayer group.” He stopped, thinking about Shelly’s reaction to his confession of Christianity. Danny couldn’t even remember a time when he had to defend himself for his faith, or even tell anyone what he believed.
“After that I worked with the diction coach on my…my elocution. Seems I should put on a little bit of an accent on certain words, not the ones I’m used to.”
Fred cleared his throat and Jules giggled.
“But then,” Danny said, deciding to leave out the slow walks to and from appointments and Shelly holding his arm. He hadn’t dared hold her hand yet, unsure what kind of gossip was already going around about them and what she wanted people to know about them. If there was a “them.” If he didn’t get the acting gig, he didn’t want anyone to think it was her fault. They took over an hour for a picnic lunch under the oak, trading stories about their families, sharing the food they liked, how Shelly had gotten into marketing and the company of her own she planned to open. Hints at past relationships. “The main event took place in the middle of the afternoon when Lydia Danes arrived. In a helicopter.”
The trailer door opened. “Speak of the…you know,” Fred said under his breath.
Jules dropped the giggle, thankfully, and strode forward to take Lydia’s hands. “Madam, your chair awaits.”
“I know you all were talking about me,” Lydia said, her presence filling the narrow space.
“Of course we were, Lydia,” Jules told her. “How your magnificent arrival yesterday headlined all the news.”
“That was pretty good, wasn’t it?” She chuckled as she was being draped. “Well, hey, there, good-looking.”
It took Danny a moment before he realized she was addressing him. “Oh, uh, back at you, Lydia. Good morning.”
“What’s the scene we’re rehearsing?”
Danny experienced a sweaty panic when he couldn’t recall. “It’s…it’s…”
She winked at his reflection. “You an’ me, hon, we’re going to save the speckled warbler, single-handed. After you convince me, that is.” She arched her brows. “I’m gonna need a lot of convincing.”
Jules giggled again and rubbed his hands together.
“A little lighter on the eyeliner this time, Jules.”
“Anything, Miz Danes.”
“You’re not filming this, are you, Fred?” Lydia asked. “Because you know how I feel about…”
Danny learned after watching Lydia yesterday that everything she said contained some kind of innuendo. What husband would put up with that? He tuned them out while Glenda finished brushing something on his eyebrows. His face felt stiff. He raised a hand to touch his lips.
“Nuh-uh, there, Danny boy.” Glenda slapped his hand away. “No touching. I’m the only one allowed to mess with this masterpiece. Wardrobe. Only button down shirts. We’ll finish the hair and powder on set.”
“Thanks.” He wondered if he should tip until Fred pulled him out of the trailer.
*
Day Five - Exterior - Morning
Fred started filming again as they walked to the barn. Someone wolf-whistled.
“What was that?” Danny stopped.
“Keep talking,” Fred told him, moving around to walk backward. “Yesterday?”
“Seeing Lydia Danes was surreal. I mean, I just sat next to her in makeup and my mind went blank. I don’t know how I’m going to remember lines when the director calls ‘action.’ She’s so beautiful. And she seemed nice, down-to-earth, I guess, when I met her. We talked some after she got here. She has a double-wide trailer, like a house. Though I suppose it wouldn’t seem like a house to her.”
Danny stopped to let a wagon-load of electrical cords and a generator pass. Fred panned the camera. “I don’t know if she was pretending she and I were in some interview at first, or if that was the real her talking about her kids and husband and dogs at home in Tuscon. I mean, I don’t know if she really has kids. When she talks to everyone else, it’s like she’s s
omebody who isn’t married or has a family.” He knew he was rambling, saying anything to avoid talking about the other person who’d come with Lydia. And Lydia was supposed to be some kind of man-eater, so why would she make up a story about a spouse and kids? Should he have even said this for the vlog?
He gave a sideways glance at Fred’s camera lens. “So, anyway, the set livened up quite a bit, as you can imagine. We met with the writers and talked about the script. That was interesting. Lydia had some good ideas. I can see why I shouldn’t have worried about trying to memorize lines when they’re probably going to change.”
*
Day Five - Interior - Morning
They’d arrived at the McCormack’s barn. The set had changed since Danny and Shelly toured yesterday after lunch while it was still under construction. People walked about, carrying clipboards and wearing headsets.
Danny shook his head and swerved away from a moving equipment cart. “I had no idea it took so many people to make a movie.”
“It’s addicting, all this activity.” Fred maneuvered the camera from his shoulder and set it down.
A man stepped from the shadows, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. “This must be the farm boy. And his shadow, Liquid Fred. I thought I fired you once already.”
Fred flexed his hands and rubbed his shoulder, ignoring Tommy Lord while subtly hinting he could take care of himself. He moved away from his camera and waved for a young man to come and get it.
Danny stood, taking his cues from Fred. Do not react to a bully. Classic. Danny took a step toward the set of the mayor’s office. Lord planted himself directly in Danny’s path.
“Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot.” Lord offered a slender hand.
Danny stared at the thin fingers, adorned with two clunky rings and some kind of bracelet on his wrist, before raising his eyes to study a face with hollow cheekbones, large ears, and dark eyes. Lord stood a couple of inches taller. He was handsome in a scary way, Danny supposed. He pictured Shelly, a foot shorter and not even reaching Lord’s shoulder, touching that hand, kissing that face, believing that hissing voice.
“Mr. Lord?” Best take the high road. “Winston Daniels. If you’ll excuse me, I’d better get to work.” The high road didn’t alleviate the shakes, though. He couldn’t guarantee what would come out of his mouth if he had to start the scene at this moment.
Lord followed. “You’re new to the industry, I understand. Not even new. This is your first set. You have no idea how this game works. I get that. But allow me to give you some advice. Friendly, this time.”
Danny moved quicker.
“Certain people have the power to make your image.” He paused. “We also have the power to make sure a movie never recoups its costs. Or its star is never offered another major contract.”
“Hmm.” Danny reached the outskirts of the set, bathed in white light. Jordan Eastman, the director, walked from camera to camera. He glanced up, nodded at Danny, and squinted at Tommy Lord as if he didn’t recognize who was with Danny.
“Reviews are everything. I own enough critics to sink Jovian,” Lord said.
Afraid to open his mouth, Danny prayed for a rescue. But not Shelly. Please don’t let her see Tommy Lord.
“On the other hand,” Lord said, his voice changing to a more amusing tone. “I don’t need to hurt Jovian when I’m in a position to do a lot of good for many people. You included, if you do as well as expected. People love to see a down and out farm boy climb to the top of the heap. With my miracle girl directing public relations, everyone will be talking about this movie. Everything About You will be the number one box office hit come Christmas. Well placed, even, to scrounge up awards. I can make that happen for you.” Another dramatic pause. “And your sister.”
Danny shifted in place. No one approached him, offering an excuse to get away from the snake. He didn’t have anywhere else to go, either. How could Fred have been so calm about those wicked words? And Shelly? She had been fooled by this creep? He clenched his fists, hoping not to have to pop Lord and cause a scene not written in the movie. “I think it best if you not bring my family into it.”
“You have a point, farm boy,” Lord oozed. “I got to hand it to my girl for the Winston personality she developed for you. The early publicity polls have been very good. Very good indeed.”
His heart thumping, Danny slowly faced Lord. “Your girl? What are you talking about? Shelly Colter—”
“That’s right.” Lord’s grin slid into pity. “My girl. That’s why I’m here.”
*
Day Five - Interior - Morning
Shelly made notes on her clipboard about the stills the photographer took, and the quotes and descriptions to go with them, while she kept a running monologue in her head about the copy and potential trailer material.
Then she stuck the pen behind her ear and looked up. Tommy Lord, the creep, must have found a place to sleep after all. He’d been informed last night there were no extra beds. She hadn’t bothered to check up on him, and hadn’t gotten back to the house until one a.m. But, who was with him…oh, no, no, no… She hugged the clipboard and gathered her courage.
She wondered why Danny looked like he was about to be sick. What was Tommy doing? “You are not going to sabotage my hard work!”
“I got this.” Mr. Pettibone gave her a look of steel and headed straight for the slime bucket and his victim.
Danny was more than a project. Shelly knew that and believed it with all her heart. He hadn’t been around the viciousness of Hollywood, and it wasn’t his fault he didn’t understand enough to ignore scuttlebutt. She hadn’t done a very good job of teaching him how, either. Instead, she’d put on a little girl pouting act because he couldn’t read her mind and do exactly what she expected. Danny told her to be proud of her work, not of getting her way.
“Wait.” Fred put his arm around her. “Let it play out.”
“I’m such a wimp, Uncle Fred.”
“There, there, sweetheart. We all have our faults.”
A tear dripped from Shelly’s chin and plopped on the clipboard. “I set him up for the wolves, and I didn’t teach him how to handle himself.”
Fred squeezed her shoulders.
“Instead, I treated him like an imbecile, like I was too good for him. And now, he’ll hate me. He’ll believe anything Tommy Lord says about me.”
“I don’t think so. Watch.”
Shelly wiped her eyes. Mr. Pettibone had slowed his approach and stood back from Tommy and Danny. He had his hands in his pockets. Not only that, Lydia had joined Pettibone, her profile regal and haughty as she planted herself at Pettibone’s side. Shelly had to move a couple of steps to see.
Tommy was backed against wide barn boards, Danny leaning in, close, his head forward. From this angle she couldn’t tell if he was talking or what about. A few more crew members did a double take and slowed to check out the scene. Twenty seconds later, Shelly couldn’t see.
“No pictures!” she called to her photographer. Shelly rushed in to attempt to control the fallout. “Please, everyone, please don’t take pictures or tape this.” She pushed through the crowd. “We don’t need any bad publicity.”
“Aw, c’mon, Miss Colter.” One of the electrical specialists snapped a picture but then put his phone back in his pocket. “Lord gets what he deserves.”
Shelly was afraid to ask what he meant and hesitated.
“Don’t worry, Shelly.” Jen grabbed Shelly’s arm. “Danny wouldn’t actually hit the creep unless he had to defend himself.”
“But I thought…I just assumed that everyone believed, well, that Tommy was taking over publicity.”
“I don’t think this movie would get made if that were the case,” Jen said. “No actors want Tommy Lord’s name attached to anything they do. Not after the way he treated you.”
“People know about that?”
“Don’t you ever listen to the backstage talk? Tommy Lord is an A-number one creep who uses people and
tries to trash them once he’s through with them. He couldn’t sell a beach pass to a sand crab after you left last year.”
Shelly clutched Jen’s arm to keep from falling. “I didn’t know. I mean, I knew his last contract folded, but after that…I guess I didn’t pay much attention.”
Mr. Pettibone and Margie rounded up two of the bigger set handlers by this time to break up the altercation.
Lydia joined Shelly and Jen. She put her perfectly manicured hands on her size 0 hips. “I had no idea the hullaballoo that man would cause. I am ashamed to say I was a sucker for his sob story about chasing his one true love across the country.”
“He was chasing his love, all right,” Shelly said. “It just wasn’t me.”
“At least he had sense enough not to ruin my entrance.” Lydia made way for the men escorting Tommy out. “Opal! My water. I have a bad taste in my mouth.”
As Pettibone huddled with Danny, Shelly wished she could hear their conversation. Amber was on her phone and crossing things off a list as she hung up and dialed again.
Margie shouted through a bull horn. “People! First dress rehearsal act two scene eight in thirty minutes! Thirty minutes!”
Jen scrambled away with a shy smile. Shelly felt like she’d run up and down the pasture, and trembled as if she were the lead and had forgotten to study the script.
Pettibone trundled up to her. “Amber will take care of damage control on this one. Lord won’t find a chance to spin this.” His eyes twinkled. “You’ve done a fine job. Have faith. We’ll talk later.”
Danny slumped on his shoulder against the barn wall before her. As the others went back to their jobs, Shelly’s other senses came to life. Behind the smell of hot wires and spray paint, remnants of old hay bales and rope reminded her what this building was used for. Wide, cupped boards echoed with footfalls and slices of light beamed through in places, outlining Danny. He started to wipe his face, but let his hand fall. He pushed away from the wall. Stopping when he saw her, Shelly knew what she had to do. She picked up speed, walking toward him, running the last three steps to launch herself into his arms.
Everything About You Page 7