“Ooh, we do enjoy a good dinner party! And I think we know just what your mother would love to see you in!” Marla exclaimed with a twinkle in her eye.
“You do? How?” Louise asked, hoping that she would finally get the information she had been searching for.
“Well, we did meet her that time at your house after your slight bout of food poisoning,” Glenda said quickly.
“That was not food poisoning! She had the flu!” Marla insisted, looking hurt. “My cooking has never poisoned anyone. That I know of. Although we haven’t seen that freckle-faced girl for a while now.” Louise’s hazel eyes grew wide. “Just kidding, dahling.”
“Well, I do have some unanswered questions regarding my mother,” Louise cut in, hoping she could get a little more info about how her mom fit into this equation. “I wouldn’t mind a few answers. You see, I found—”
“Answers? Isn’t that what you go to that dull little school for?” Glenda interrupted.
“You’ve become so conventional! How about a Valentino instead?” Marla asked suddenly, holding up a gorgeous black tulle Valentino gown with white piping that appeared seemingly out of thin air.
“All the big starlets are dying to wear his dresses, you know.” Glenda tossed her pink feather boa dramatically over her shoulder. “Lucky you, sweet pea,” she rasped.
Marla threw the Valentino over a flickering floor lamp and took Louise by the arm. “Never mind, that one’s been done. I have just the dress for this marvelous little dinner party of yours. Come with me. This one is going to take you to the stars!”
“Now, why don’t you try this one on for size, dahling?” Marla asked proudly, pulling out a gorgeous Grecian-style one-shoulder lavender silk and chiffon dress from an open chest of drawers for Louise’s approval. The elegantly pleated and fitted bodice had a dramatic single shoulder strap and a wispy, flowing long skirt that fell to the floor. It was old-school glamorous and looked like a variation of a gown she had seen before going down the red carpet of the Oscars or something.
“Ohmigod, I love it!” Louise declared. “It’s perfect.” She wished she could model it for Brooke. Louise had a feeling that even her friend, despite her lack of enthusiasm for vintage, would admit it was pretty awesome.
“We thought you might,” Marla said, beaming. “And, just a hunch, I think your dear mother will also approve. It’s classic, timeless, elegant, just like her.”
Just as Louise was about to ask her how exactly she knew so much about her mom, Glenda interrupted. “But we do have so much new inventory! Why don’t you browse, take your time, and have a look around before making any final… decisions. A new dress is a big commitment, as I’m sure you’ve discovered. The wrong selection could completely change the course of your evening.”
“And perhaps even more than that.” Marla giggled.
“Umm, okay. I guess,” Louise said, poking through the racks of clothes, pausing to check out an incredible Prada A-line skirt layered with plastic baubles, but still not able to stop thinking about the pale purple gown she had just been shown. That had to be the one! She had felt that prickly feeling on her arms that told her it was special.
“And we haven’t even offered you a snack! Sometimes we get so distracted by fashion that we completely forget our manners,” Marla apologized, producing a plate of grayish-looking shrimp cocktail from a small broom closet.
“I think I’ll pass,” Louise said firmly. Gross. How long had it been sitting in there? It could be from the eighties, for all she knew.
“Suit yourself,” Marla said with a shrug as she popped a floppy jumbo shrimp into her mouth and swallowed it in one large gulp, tail and all.
Just then, Louise’s phone vibrated, and she saw that she had a text from Brooke. Srry, running LATE!! XO
Frustrated, Louise turned off her phone and shoved it back into her bag without responding. She felt as though her own friend didn’t even want to hang out with her anymore. Brooke would obviously rather be with Kip than the friend she grew up with her whole life. “I’d like to try on that dress now, please. My best friend seems to have abandoned me, so I guess I’ll have to make this decision without her.”
“Very well. As you’d like it,” Marla replied, sliding the appetizer platter beneath a love seat and tossing the dress to Louise, the purple silk train making a graceful sweeping arc across the shop.
“The fitting rooms are in the rear. And we do hope it fits, dahling,” Glenda said in her low, raspy drawl. “You never know with vintage. Sometimes something that looks perfectly suited for you on the hanger doesn’t work quite as well once you have it on.”
Excited, Louise stepped into the makeshift changing room, pulling the tattered red velvet fabric as securely closed behind her as possible. It felt like being behind a stage curtain, as if Louise were changing for a performance or something, and maybe in a way she was. Taped on the full-length dressing room mirror was a black-and-white portrait of a young, gorgeous Marilyn Monroe wearing a skintight, long white sequined dress. She smiled, thinking how much it reminded her of her own mirror back home. She studied herself in comparison with this flawless-looking actress and found it kind of disheartening. But seeing all the movie posters, the stars on the floor, the backstage photos, it felt as though they must be clues for her next adventure. Maybe Louise was going to Hollywood!
She eagerly kicked off her neon pink Converse and yanked her cotton Laura Ashley dress over her head. She tried to immerse herself in the experience, carefully undoing the heavy zipper and clasp, appreciating the luxurious feel of the cool, silk-lined fabric, letting herself get lost in the fantasy and endless possibility she felt as a little kid playing dress-up in her mother’s closet. A shiver shot through her when she pushed her arms up through the body of the dress. The dressing room suddenly felt as if it were spinning in fast, tight circles like the Mad Tea Party ride at Disney World.
“Bon voyage, dahling! Do report back!” She heard Glenda’s husky voice and Marla’s chuckle echoing inside her head as she collapsed to the floor in one dramatic fell swoop. Louise definitely knew how to make an exit.
Louise woke up coughing, facedown in a swirling cloud of red dust. Armor-clad men with bronze breastplates and pleated kilts were swarming around her, their dirty leather boots coming alarmingly close to stepping on her head. She immediately felt panic rising up in her throat. Where am I? Before she had a moment to get her bearings, Louise felt the ground tremble beneath her hands, and she heard a loud rumbling. To her horror, a large horse-drawn chariot was barreling straight for her! Louise felt a strong grip on her upper arm as someone dragged her out of the dirt road. She screamed, barely avoiding being crushed under the huge wooden wheels as a team of muscular horses sped past. Dazed, she looked up at the boy who had just rescued her. Wearing a kilt and a bronze breastplate of armor, he was around her age and seemed too young to already be a soldier.
“Thanks,” Louise gasped. “You just saved my life.”
“You should be more careful next time,” he said, leading her out of the road. “We’re already a year behind schedule. We don’t need anyone getting killed by a horse.”
“Sorry,” Louise said, not exactly sure what she was apologizing for. What kind of schedule? Louise wondered. The young soldier helped ease her down onto a low stone step, where she caught her breath and leaned back, trying to soak in the unfamiliar surroundings. It was as though she had woken up in the middle of a battle. Am I at war? A group of men carrying scuffed bronze shields strolled by leisurely.
“C’mon, Jack,” one of the men called to the boy. “The maestro has requested our presence in the battlefield.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” the boy named Jack asked, giving Louise a curious and slightly concerned look. She nodded, still in a state of shock, and then he left her with one last backward glance to go join the rest of the soldiers. The men were laughing and seemed to be in no rush to get to whatever fight they were headed to. She thought she heard one of the
m say he wanted a pizza, but that couldn’t be right. It seemed unlikely that Domino’s would deliver to a location like this!
Louise looked down to see that she was still wearing her lavender chiffon silk dress, only now it was covered in rust-colored dust. She didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger, and her initial fear subsided. Louise tried to brush off the bits of dirt that clung to the silk fabric and make herself look a bit more presentable while she figured out what exactly she was supposed to be doing, and where on earth she was.
Glancing up, she realized that she was sitting on the bottom step of an enormous, towering pyramid, like the ones she had seen in books about ancient Egypt. These were definitely olden times, like really old. This dress wasn’t vintage; it was prehistoric! She was going to kill Marla and Glenda. Maybe this was their way of getting back at her for traveling to Versailles without their approval! Some kind of cruel joke or lesson—like how superconfident, gorgeous Stella ended up in the old, curmudgeonly body of Adelaide. But how was it possible for a garment to survive thousands of years and still be in such good condition? It didn’t make any sense. And despite the fact that the sun was directly overhead without a cloud in the sky, it wasn’t as hot as Louise had imagined the desert would be. In fact, it was pretty much the perfect temperature, seventy-five with no humidity. Maybe it was winter or something.
“There you are!” exclaimed a blue-eyed, freckly girl wearing a simple white toga. She grabbed Louise by the hand. “What happened to you?”
“I think I was almost crushed by a chariot,” Louise said.
“Whoa, crazy. Are you okay?” she asked, but continued on without giving Louise a chance to answer. “You’ll never guess what I just saw! Apparently all the rumors are true!” The girl talked as though she and Louise were good friends and they were picking up on a conversation they’d started moments ago.
“What rumors?” Louise asked.
“Come with me. You’re never going to believe this,” the girl instructed, dragging Louise through the soft, warm sand, which kept getting into her sandals as she tried to keep up. The desert landscape was dotted with palm trees, and the girl stopped short and pointed to one particularly thick trunk. Louise couldn’t make out any faces, but she saw a woman in a periwinkle blue dress talking closely behind the tree with a man who must have been an army general.
“I saw them kissing,” the girl explained, wide-eyed when Louise didn’t respond. “I mean anyone could—it’s the middle of the day! Don’t you think they’re taking this a little too far? Oh no, they’re looking this way. If they spot us, we could be canned!”
“Taking what too far?” Louise asked as the girl quickly pulled her away from the tree.
“Don’t play innocent,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I need to get back to my mark,” she called, taking off through the desert. “See you tonight!”
Louise, alone and now more confused than ever, headed back to where she started to try to get her bearings. She turned right behind the “pyramid” and was surprised to discover that it wasn’t a pyramid at all—it was actually a two-dimensional facade! The backside was constructed of cheap-looking plywood and propped up by unfinished crossbeams. Louise wasn’t in ancient Egypt after all; she was on a film set! Men dressed in button-down shirts and carrying megaphones and clipboards were leaning against the wood and chatting in groups with some of the armored men she had seen before, including Jack, who was now devouring a slice of pepperoni pizza. She almost tripped over a roll of cable that was connected to a giant lighting rig and barely avoided wiping out in front of a particularly cute “soldier” wearing a red cape.
“Careful,” her rescuer warned as she tried unsuccessfully to hide her stumble by breaking into a slight jog. “You really are accident-prone, aren’t you?”
“I guess,” she said, blushing. No matter what year it was and how glamorous her surroundings, Louise still managed to display her trademark klutziness. Embarrassed, she quickly walked around to the other side of the set and noticed a camera on a rigged track. A man wearing a tweed coat and a tie who must have been the director looked into the lens while smoking a pipe.
“I need Caesar, I mean Rex, to walk down these steps and address the army when he gets to the third one,” he boomed as a blond man in a navy blazer ran over to the pyramid and put a strip of white tape on the designated step.
“Is this good, Joe?” he asked.
“Fine. Now let’s get this show on the road. The studio will have my hide if we don’t get this scene finished by nightfall. Where is Miss Taylor? She’s up next. Let’s get her in wardrobe immediately. I don’t want to be waiting around all afternoon like yesterday.”
“Ummm…” There was a long, uncomfortable pause from the blond in the blazer. “We don’t know where she is, sir.”
“You don’t know?” Joe repeated angrily. The stocky director massaged his temples with his index fingers as though the news gave him an instant migraine. His wide forehead creased with wrinkles. Strangely, even though it was sunny and warm, he was wearing white cotton gloves. His dark brown hair was receding, and the bald patch at the top of his head was beaded with sweat.
“She disappeared about an hour ago,” the man in the sport coat replied nervously.
“She what? You are telling me the most famous movie actress in the world… disappeared?”
“Yes, sir,” he said in an even quieter voice.
“I haven’t slept in about six months rewriting this doggone picture. My nerves are completely shot. Are you, young man, trying to kill me?” The extremely agitated director’s veins were now bulging out of his neck, and his face had turned an unnatural shade of purple.
“No, sir,” he whispered.
“Well, she’s got to be here somewhere. For the one million dollars the studio is paying her, she had better be around here somewhere. Maybe her costar will know where she is. Someone get Richard! Check her hotel. Check the spa. I don’t care what you have to do—find her!” the director yelled as the blond man ran off in the opposite direction, pushing past the throng of uniformed soldiers, who tried to jump out of his way.
Louise looked around at all the thousands of heavily armored centurions who were totally intimidating only a few moments ago and realized they must all be just extras wearing costumes. And then she had an even more amazing realization.
“Joan, there you are! Irene has been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been?” Louise’s racing mind was interrupted by a harried young man with round black-rimmed glasses and a clipboard who began pulling her by the arm. “And what exactly happened to you? Why are you wearing one of the costumes? More important, why is it so dirty? Did Mr. Mankiewicz ask you to stand in for one of the actresses again?” he asked, looking her over with a perplexed expression.
“I guess so. Who are you?” Louise couldn’t help but ask.
“Sorry, I suppose we haven’t been formally introduced yet,” he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose, which was dotted with beads of sweat, and offering Louise his hand after wiping it on his chino pants. “I’m Howie Sanders. I just started as a production assistant last week when the last guy quit. And I’m going to get into a heap of trouble if you don’t get back into the wardrobe tent.”
“Sorry, Howie. I guess I got a little distracted.”
“I’d say. You might want to get yourself together. You have a fitting with Miss Taylor in ten minutes,” he said, flipping through some pages on his clipboard and cross-checking it with his Timex. Yup, Louise was pretty sure they didn’t make those in ancient Egypt.
Louise smoothed out her dress and retied her hair into a tight bun. In Hollywood, “Miss Taylor” could refer to only one extremely famous and glamorous person. If this missing actress was who she thought she was, Louise was quite possibly about to meet one of her all-time film idols, Dame Elizabeth Taylor, in person! “I’m ready. Thanks for finding me, Howie. And don’t worry, I think Miss Taylor is running a little bit late herself.”
Lo
uise’s predicament just got a whole lot more fabulous!
Louise ran to keep up with Howie, who was rushing ahead of her, while still trying to take in as much of her first Hollywood movie experience as possible. Compared with being a passenger on a sinking ship or a lady of a French royal court that was about to be overthrown in a bloody revolution, Louise had totally hit the fashion jackpot with this adventure! It was as if she had stepped across the screen into one of her and her mother’s favorite movies. Louise had actually made it to the Golden Age of Hollywood!
“Who’s that?” Louise asked as a woman hurried by, her face partially obscured by a towering stack of papers.
“That’s Elaine, the script supervisor,” he replied over his shoulder without slowing down. “With all the revisions and changes they’ve made to this picture, she just might have the hardest job on set.”
Louise took in a whiff of cooked bacon as they sped by a tent full of long tables covered in white tablecloths and surrounded by folding chairs. It was packed with actresses wearing lots of makeup and multicolored togas with white fuzzy slippers, chatting and laughing while drinking coffee out of paper cups. She kept nearly tripping over the ground, which was booby-trapped with wires and extension cords to keep the large lights and fans running.
They passed a group of trailers with names written in black uppercase letters on gold stars tacked to each door. REX was on one, RICHARD on another, but the largest, double-wide trailer was designated LIZ. The man she had seen before in the navy sport coat was sitting on the steps to the missing actress’s door, his blond head in his hands. From the looks of his slumped posture, it did not look as though his search had been successful.
Suddenly, the door to Rex’s trailer flung open and a tall man in a maroon cloak with a gold wreath in his salt-and-pepper hair stormed out. A flustered woman dressed like a secretary from Mad Men trailed behind him.
The Time-Traveling Fashionista and Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile Page 4