Starlight

by Alexandra Richland

  As soon as Aidan exited the building, he rubbed his hands through his hair, preferring the chaos of his normal style to that of a Starlight Studios pretty boy movie star. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs and relax him. It was only eleven in the morning and he had no plans for the rest of the day.

  With his cigarette hanging from his lips, Aidan looked around the empty backlot, mulling over his choices. He could go home and listen to music, buy a coffee somewhere to beat the fatigue that plagued him, or he could explore.

  Given that he would practically be living at the studio for the next while he figured he might as well familiarize himself with the backlot. If he was lucky, maybe he’d stumble upon a real actor like Marlon Brando or Montgomery Clift. They were members of the Actors Studio like him, and they hadn’t signed the standard Starlight Studios contract, either.

  The sun beat against his back as he strolled down an alleyway, puffing away on his cigarette. After a few minutes of looking around, he didn’t find anything interesting. Just as he was about to give up, something caught his eye: a sign on a closed steel door that read, Closed Set. Filming in Progress.

  With a defiant smirk, Aidan dropped his cigarette to the ground and put it out with the toe of his boot. Never one to follow the rules, he pulled open the door to the soundstage and stepped inside. The sets for Spike Rollins were still unfinished and the place that held the wardrobe tests was just an empty stage with a blue screen. He had been on television sets back in New York and felt comfortable on the Broadway stage, but he’d never been on a movie set before.

  Inside, Aidan met a bustle of action as the cast and crew prepared for the next scene. The living room set looked fancy, like it belonged in a mansion. He couldn’t understand why almost every lead character in Mr. Mertz’s motion pictures was wealthy. It didn’t make any sense to him. Where was the pragmatism? The struggle and hardship? He knew firsthand that life wasn’t rosy all the time. This was another reason why he appreciated his role as Spike Rollins. Spike represented the struggling people of America, which he thought was a better representation of reality.

  Aidan crossed his arms over his chest and scanned the set, wondering who starred in the film. He might’ve been opposed to Hollywood, but he still enjoyed movies. When he spotted actor Felix Taylor, his first instinct was to leave. In Aidan’s opinion, Felix was a second-rate Glenn Ford at best, despite his immense popularity. It was a safe bet the film wasn’t a future Oscar contender.

  As Aidan continued looking around, he noticed a man barking out orders to the crew and figured he was the director. Upon further inspection of the soundstage, he found actress Constance Murphy sitting in a chair off to the side of the set. Aidan thought Constance was an all-right-looking broad, but in a Mertz manufactured movie starlet sort of way—definitely not his type—and her acting didn’t impress him.

  Some actors Aidan had worked with at the Actors Studio were big fans of hers, but he never shared their admiration. They often bought movie magazines just to ogle her curvy figure in her swimsuit pin-ups. He wondered if she cared that people appreciated her more for her looks than her acting ability.

  Constance talked to two other girls while she waited for her call. One was petite with short black hair, wearing a bright orange wool sweater and tight black pants. Aidan assumed she was Connie’s assistant because she wasn’t dressed like any of the other actresses on set.

  The other girl was petite, too, but not as short as Orange Sweater Girl. She was dressed in a sparkly black dress and stood with her back to him. Despite the fact that Constance and Orange Sweater Girl were the most animated in their trio, Aidan felt drawn to the other broad more. He admired her nape and the curve of her hips…

  And then she turned around.

  Aidan swallowed hard, unable to hide his fascination. Her brunette hair was curled and pinned up on her head and her flushed cheeks lent her face an angelic glow. She wasn’t pretty in a Constance Murphy kind of way, but a true knockout; the girl-next-door type, despite her fancy outfit.

  When her dark eyes locked on his, he had to stop from gaping. He forced himself to look away to avoid humiliation, and with the action, his heart squeezed. He searched for an alternative reason to stick around without looking out of place, deciding to wait until she wasn’t looking his way before he glanced at her again. His eyes landed on the cameraman standing next to him.

  He hated small talk but offered his hand anyway. “Hey.”

  The cameraman’s eyes brightened. “Hey, it’s Aidan, right?”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled, not the least bit surprised the man knew his name. There was plenty of gossip traveling around the studio about him since he’d been chosen for the role of Spike.

  “I’m Christopher. Nice to meet you.” He shook Aidan’s hand. “So what are you doing here?”

  Aidan shrugged. “I just came to check out the set.”

  “Well, you won’t see much here. It’s a typical, fluffy Mertz romance picture called Checkmate. Nothing like the brilliant film you’re doing.”

  Aidan’s mind focused elsewhere as the cameraman droned on about Spike Rollins. Unable to stop himself, he took a risk and glanced over at the Brunette a couple of times. He was unnerved to discover that she was still looking at him. As the cameraman started talking about some new lenses the studio recently acquired for all of their cameras, Aidan listened half-heartedly, nervous as to why he’d held the Brunette’s interest for this long. Then Orange Sweater Girl pointed at him. He froze.

  The Brunette’s blush reappeared as she swatted her friend’s hand down. Orange Sweater Girl giggled and Aidan’s joy plummeted. Had he become the butt of some cruel joke?

  As the three young women conversed, he wondered what role the Brunette played in the motion picture. Her makeup wasn’t over the top, she didn’t look like a typical Starlight Studios manufactured star, and being the avid movie fan he was, he didn’t recognize her from any of the films he’d ever seen.

  “Places, everyone,” the director called.

  The cameraman shook Aidan’s hand and walked away to prepare for filming.

  Despite what many people believed, working on a set consisted of standing around and waiting, more than acting and excitement. Aidan knew this well from his taped television gigs. Even so, he still wasn’t ready to leave the Brunette yet. He grabbed a nearby chair and sat down, angling himself so that he had a clear view of the set.

  Felix and Constance took their places in the foreground and Aidan focused on the Brunette behind them, who he now realized was an extra. She stood next to the fireplace, the bright lights of the soundstage illuminating her porcelain skin and shimmering dark eyes as though they were spotlights erected for the sole purpose of taunting him with her beauty. Never before had a woman affected Aidan so positively and he knew absolutely nothing about her.

  Their eyes met again. This time, Aidan didn’t feel guilty about staring back at her. He waited with bated breath for her to smile or acknowledge what they had in some way. She didn’t. A makeup lady came by and their moment was lost.

  “We’re rollin’ in two minutes!” the director shouted.

  A prop man handed the Brunette a cigarette. She looked at him questioningly. They exchanged a few words and from the awkward way she held the cigarette it was obvious she wasn’t a smoker. Another actor offered her a light and Aidan cringed, thinking there was no way that this was going to turn out well.

  The clapperboard sounded off and director started the scene. Aidan kept his eyes on the Brunette, hoping she wasn’t actually going to smoke. As Felix and Constance argued, his fear was confirmed. The Brunette brought the cigarette to her mouth and took a drag. She immediately doubled over and heaved smoke. The soundstage fell silent around her.

  Aidan remembered smoking his first cigarette when he was twelve years old and knew exactly how she felt. Despite the fact that she was essentially a stranger to him, his first instinct was to run up onto the set, pull her into
his arms, and assure her that everything would work out all right.

  The director took action first.

  “Cut!” His dark eyes detonated with rage. “Kid, what the hell are you doing?”

  “I—I’m sorry, sir.” The Brunette’s voice sang sweetly in Aidan’s ear like a glorious hymn. “I’ve never smoked before. I was given this cigarette and—”

  “And you thought you would ruin the scene?”

  The Brunette’s eyes grew wide. “No, sir, that’s not it at all. I just—it was an accident!” Aidan’s mouth turned up in wonder and worship. Their eyes locked again. Instead of gracing him with the gentle smile he so desperately craved, the Brunette glowered at him and focused back on the director. Aidan’s lips pressed together in a hard line. He hoped she didn’t think he found humor in her misfortune.

  The prop man from earlier approached the Brunette, took her cigarette, and brought it to his mouth. For a moment, Aidan actually felt jealous that he had the opportunity to touch something she’d held between her full red lips.

  The scene started again. This time the Brunette eyed her surroundings as if she was lost. Then she did something creative: She admired the statue on the mantle next to her. Kazan and Strasberg would’ve been proud. At the Actors Studio, they had always stressed how important it was to act natural in a scene, yet at the same time, do something subtle that commanded attention. The technique was especially significant for extras, or actors listening to someone else speak, because it made their presence known to the audience as well.

  If they stood around like a wallflower, no one would notice them, and they might as well not be in the frame at all. A lot of actors who weren’t trained in the Method really hated that trick because it took some of the attention off of them. Aidan wondered if the Brunette had any Method acting instruction or if she thought to do that all on her own.

  Just when it seemed everything was going well for her, the statue slipped out of her grasp and fell to the carpet with a loud thud. The director erupted into a tirade and stormed the set. Aidan leapt to his feet, the need to protect and fight for her moving through his veins like magma spewing from a volatile volcano.

  The director stopped mid-stride, leaving a decent gap between him and the Brunette, but not enough for Aidan to relax. He remained tense as he waited for further aggression from the man. One wrong move and he would react. The director dropped his voice to a whisper and the Brunette wrung her hands. They exchanged words.

  The scene before Aidan blurred. He blinked rapidly, but it was no use. The horrific vision took over. His heart raced and his body felt clammy as he was transported back to the day when he was ten years old and watching the aftermath of his mother’s vicious attack, feeling weak and unable to save her. Yellow and orange splotches appeared before his eyes before the entire flashback faded to white. He stumbled to the side and caught the armrest of his chair, feeling dizzy and disoriented.

  Over the years, when Aidan was awake, he suppressed his traumatic childhood memories pretty well. Every now and then, however, despite his best efforts, images from his subconscious resurfaced and he had to fight to bury them again. Like many Method actors, he feared that if he undertook psychoanalysis, it would dilute his talent, though he knew that was more of an excuse to avoid opening up about what haunted him. Instead, he struggled to manage his demons all on his own.

  Aidan glanced around the set, keeping a death grip on the armrest. Thankfully, everyone was too busy focusing on the director and the Brunette to notice his episode, which had been mild compared to some of the others he had experienced in the past.

  Once he regained control of his breathing and balance, he looked back at the fireplace, relieved to discover that the Brunette was all right and holding a wine glass in her hand. The director stalked off the set, back to his original position near the camera.

  Now that the threat between the Brunette and the director had passed, Aidan slumped back into his chair, physically and emotionally spent from the attack. He watched the Brunette as the director stopped the next three takes for various reasons. Finally, the scene completed without incident, and Aidan noticed she possessed more confidence the last time around.

  After the director yelled cut, the Brunette and Constance made their way over to Orange Sweater Girl. Aidan contemplated going over to them and introducing himself to the Brunette. Perhaps she would provide him with the kind smile he desired. He thought it over, however, and decided to wait until Connie and her assistant left first.

  The director walked over to Constance and didn’t acknowledge the Brunette or Orange Sweater Girl at all. After he left, the three young women continued chatting. Aidan anxiously waited for the other two to leave the Brunette alone. Finally, Connie walked away, but without her assistant in the orange sweater. Aidan realized then that Orange Sweater Girl wasn’t her assistant, after all.

  Constance waved to the two women on her way out. “See you at Romanoff’s, tonight at seven.”

  Removing a cigarette from his pack, Aidan cursed and turned away from the set. Although he was desperate to talk to the Brunette, he didn’t want to approach her with Orange Sweater Girl present.

  In his moment of frustration, he recalled Connie’s comment about Romanoff’s; the expensive restaurant where the stars dined and got their egos stroked. He wasn’t surprised that Constance was going to a place like that, but his brunette seemed far less pretentious.

  There was only one way for him to find out. He had to talk to her. He wanted to know her name. He wanted to relive the warmth he felt when she looked into his eyes. He wanted to explain that he wasn’t laughing at her earlier. He wanted to protect her, hold her … kiss her.

  Aidan touched his scalp in bewilderment, wondering how much of the pomade had seeped into his brain. He couldn’t think of any other explanation for his crazy behavior.

  As he walked away from the set and into the darkness, he contemplated his options for tonight: listen to music, alone, in his apartment, or see his mysterious brunette?

  Drink coffee, alone, at his usual dive on Sunset, or see his mysterious brunette?

  Ride his motorcycle, alone, along the winding roads of Mulholland …

  See his mysterious brunette?

  A grin crept upon Aidan’s face as he recalled her admiring the elephant statue on the fireplace mantle, actually doing something creative during a scene he found otherwise ridiculous and poorly acted.

  His decision was made easily.

  Forget rationality. Tonight, he was going to Romanoff’s.

  Chapter Thirteen

  On Friday evening, Beth sat in her bedroom, attempting to read a novel while nervously checking the clock every few minutes. After leaving the studio, Olivia said she would meet her back at their apartment around five o’clock. Beth felt wary about the reason behind Olivia’s quick departure, but was assured she just had to run a few errands and would make it home in time to get ready for Romanoff’s.

  After reading the same few lines repeatedly, Beth dropped the book onto her nightstand and laid her head back onto her pillow. She hoped their evening would progress smoothly. Many Starlight Studios’ employees would attend tonight and since she was new at the studio, she wanted to make a good impression. Another source of her anxiety was that after looking over her entire wardrobe, she found nothing suitable to wear.

  Beth heard the front door open just after five. She jumped off her bed and headed into the living room to greet Olivia, but all she could make out was the top of her friend’s head. Garment bags covered the rest of her.

  Beth took some of the items off her hands. “Liv, what’s all this?”

  Olivia giggled. “Outfits for tonight, silly. You can’t expect us to show up at Romanoff’s in our typical attire, do you?” She sat down onto the sofa and sighed.

  “But we can’t afford all of these things,” Beth said, noting the number of items she brought home.

  “Of course we can’t. That’s why I stopped by my school and picked
these up this afternoon. I made them for my mid-term design project. They were sitting in my locker, after being graded last week, so I thought, why not wear them tonight?”

  “You brought us outfits for tonight?”

  “They may not be the most expensive dresses around, but no one will know that because they look so darn sophisticated, if I do say so myself.” Olivia smiled. “We’ll fit right in.”

  Beth recalled an evening over two months ago when Olivia took her measurements. She needed a model to base one of her designs on for her project, in addition to using her own measurements for the second required outfit, and deemed Beth the perfect choice.

  They brought the clothes into Olivia’s bedroom and Beth unzipped the garment bag designated for her. She removed a dark red evening gown with chiffon accents.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful!” she said. “In fact, it’s so beautiful I’m worried I can’t pull off wearing it tonight.”

  Olivia scoffed. “It was made for you. You’ll pull it off perfectly. Trust me.”

  Beth changed into her dress and realized how right Olivia was. The high neckline, slim bodice, and low back clung to her curves and the skirt flowed elegantly down to her ankles. Olivia also provided a matching shawl and white gloves, and insisted that Beth borrow her pearl earrings.

  All that remained was footwear. Luckily, Beth owned black pumps that complemented the dress well. After putting on her hosiery, she slipped on her heels and stood before the mirror, satisfied with the result.

  Olivia’s dress was a similar style, except hers was dark green. To complete her outfit, she wore black gloves, a black shawl, and black pumps, as well as a fashionable antique bracelet and dangly earrings.

  They didn’t have to do much with their hair because Olivia’s was short and Beth’s curls were still intact from filming at the studio earlier. After touching up their makeup and selecting clutch purses, they were ready for their night on the town by seven o’clock. Beth worried about being late, but Olivia said there was no such thing as tardiness at Hollywood social events. At least that was what she’d heard.