Exhaustion ground like sand beneath Stevie's eyelids. Each sleepless night was a pin prick in her skin. How long had it been since she had fallen asleep and woke up refreshed? She didn't remember. When she had first come back to America she had spent long days sleeping in her bed, glued to it by the impossible weight of the unknown. That hadn't been restful. She was merely trying to spend time faster than it wanted to move.
She followed the PA that had gathered her at her door, her steps weaving along the pattern in the hall carpet. The morning atmosphere of the dorm was brisker than when she had meandered back from the welcome party, despite the fact only a couple hours had passed. The ground floor was coming alive, challenging the silence of the upper levels. Some people were slipping out of dorms, spare bits of clothing crushed to their chests, only to go to a room farther down. Other doors were opening with techs loaded with cases and bags. Stevie stared at them like exhibits in a zoo, but they seemed unaware of her.
"Miss Astra?" the PA called, her head cocked for a moment as she listened to the radio in her ear. Stevie trotted to catch up to her. "Go Cart 3. They are taking you to Hair and Make Up in Section 8."
Stevie nodded, hoping the instructions would make more sense when she was outside.
There was a line of golf carts waiting just outside the dorm, their small motors rumbling. Each had a driver waiting expectantly as talent was ejected from their beds. Or someone else's bed.
Stevie went to 3, stopping at the curb and staring at the driver. He was draped over the wheel, a discman sticking out of his jean jacket pocket.
"Hey," she called over the loud throb of his music. He turned to her with a dopey grin.
"Hey, Welcome to Zeke's Go Go Go cart," he said, leaning back.
"Thanks Zeke, I am going to -"
"Oh I know where you are going Miss Astra. I will be your driver all day, and you are in good hands." He released the brake as she climbed onto the other side of the bench.
She was so tired she couldn't tell if he was zipping across the lot at unrecommended speeds or if she was just lightheaded.
"What are you listening to?" she asked to distract herself from the way her stomach was dropping.
Zeke unhooked the headphones from around his neck and held them out to Stevie. "I doubt you've heard of them," he answered. Stevie snorted. Men thought they owned music.
She put the worn orange foam pads over her ears, the cable connected her to Zeke so she could feel the sway of his body as he turned the wheel.
It was a demo, she realized. Or it had been bootlegged off the radio. It had the distant quality of tape recorder placed off centre of the sound.
"Your band?" her voice uncomfortably loud.
Zeke grinned at her again as he spun the wheel, their shoulders knocking into each other as the tired squealed and they slid sideways into a perfect parallel park.
Stevie tried not to look impressed as she handed him back the headphones. He had stopped them an exact three steps from the stairs to the make up trailer. Zeke obviously spent a lot of time driving his Go Go Go Cart.
"I will tell you later, Miss Astra."
Stevie nodded, glancing over her shoulder at the light leaking out around the trailer door. It was go time. "Will you-"
"I will be back when set's ready," he cut her off before lifting a radio up to his mouth and mumbling into it. He cranked away from the curb as Stevie forced her leaden feet up the stairs.
Stevie was in the make-up chair, she was exhausted. Her hairstylist was equally bleary-eyed as she sewed long blonde hair into Stevie's blunt choppy cut.
"Wouldn't a wig be easier?" Stevie asked as she bent her head forward. The stylist yawned and reached for her coffee.
"Long days," she answered in a gravelly voice. "You'll thank me after your first eighteen-hour shoot."
"Are you serious?"
"They can't crank these things out in a month without working us all to death."
"Why does anyone agree to that?" Stevie asked as a wardrobe assistant came in with a garment bag.
"Getting paid is a huge draw," her stylist answered. "Consistent work means we can stay with our families. It keeps us together."
Stevie didn't have an rebuttal to that. Her only family now was Marnie and her daughter. She was their livelihood. She understood the pressure of providing even when your life was spiralling beyond your control.
The wardrobe tech unzipped the bag and Stevie could see bright red chiffon in the mirror. She sat up and her hair pulled.
"That's not right," she said. "We are shooting the office today."
The tech opened her mouth when the trailer door opened.
"Morning Sunshine," Fast said. A little too chipper for Stevie's comfort. "I hope you like rewrites."
"What?" Stevie's panic rose as she turned to look at him. Her stylist's hand went to her shoulder, pulling her back against the chair. Fast chucked her a script dotted with pink pages.
Stevie caught it as the sound of someone coming up the metal stairs echoed in the trailer.
"Change of plans. To fit all this new shit in we have to get the party sequence out of the way. Start studying, kid."
No, no, no Stevie's mind rebelled. The party scene was huge. It meant she had to tell Lionel's character she loved him. She had to break up with him, they had to dance. She was going to puke.
Behind her, the door opened and she could see Lionel, dark circled and dishevelled, in the mirror.
Stevie's first instinct was to run. Only the iron grip her stylist had on her hair that stopped her standing up immediately. She couldn't look away from him. He held her eyes for a moment as if weighing the fear he saw in them. Then he smiled at the crew around him and reached his hand out to Fast.
"Good morning Michael," he said in his beautiful refined voice. Stevie wanted to hurl into the nearest trash can.
"Fast," he corrected taking Thelwell's hand in a firm grip.
"My apologies," Lionel smiled. Stevie fought the urge to mimic him.
"Did you get the script?" Fast asked looking his lead actor up and down like he could still smell the hangover on him.
"I did," Lionel produced it from the inside pocket of his tweed coat. Stevie curled her lip.
She wondered why hers had not been delivered to her room. Maybe Fast knew he would never get her out of bed if she knew the schedule was changing on her.
Fast nodded, seeing they had what they needed. He knocked on the thin frame of the door as a farewell and took off. Stevie could hear him already shouting orders across the lot outside.
She flipped through the new script wondering about the dense section of pink pages nestled in the third act. She regarded it as one might a hornet nest. She couldn't look at the new pages now. She needed to focus. She had a rough idea of the scene, but had no idea where they would begin. All the pink pages were making her nervous.
She tried to read as just behind her the make-up artist fussed over to Lionel. Her stylist turned her so she was parallel to the mirror. Stevie smiled. It would be easier to focus if she had fewer distractions.
"Can I take your coat, Mr. Thelwell?" The woman in the bubblegum pink sweater asked Lionel. She leaned in close and he was forced to look away from his sullen co-star.
"Of course," he said amiably. "Sorry, your name?"
"Tammy," she sparkled at him.
"Tammy," he repeated. Names were important on set. He shrugged his coat off and passed it to her. He feigned ignorance as she smelled it; the instinctive bringing of the collar to her nose. It was an unexpected, the selection of cologne. Deciding not just what he wanted to smell like but what unknown women would want him to smell like. He took his seat in the make up chair. "I am sorry it is a rough canvas this morning."
Tammy giggled. She brought him coffee. Black, without asking him how he took it. He must have answered that question in a magazine interview. Or she guessed. Or she was waiting for him to ask for milk and sugar. He never knew whose expectations he was failing to live up to.
He smiled as he took it from her slightly shaking hands.
"I need to read," he said apologetically. It may be drivel but it was drivel he was being paid to say. He heard a clicking tongue from the other chair. He narrowed his eyes at the bobbing blonde head.
"No problem," Tammy said taking his face in her hands and stroking the skin. She pressed her cool thumbs beneath his eyes as she stroked her hands along his quickly shaven face. He closed his eyes. There was always something comforting about being in someone else's hands. To feel them assessing him. Making a road map. It made him step momentarily out of his body and live in the reassurance of knowing hands. A brief second of relief.
"We have time," she assured him, even though he knew that was never the case. "Give me ten minutes, we will get a face mask on and I will switch with Kath and do Miss Astra's face."
He heard rustling as Stevie shifted in her seat.
"Miss Astra also needs to read," she said childishly. Tammy's perfectly manicured brows drew together for a moment.
"I could read aloud," he offered. "That will help."
She couldn't fuss if he was being generous.
He sipped his coffee. It was as terrible as he anticipated but there was something comforting about the guaranteed awfulness of set coffee. It made any other drink ambrosia. His head was full of cotton wool as he reclined his head for Tammy. She lay a hot towel on his face and pressed around his nose and beneath his eyes. He enjoyed it for the moment, the fog of gin being pressed back.
The first days of any film were like this. Best intentions quickly crumbling as they invariably fell behind schedule. She rubbed exfoliator into his skin in soothing circles. He would be expected to do this from now on. Packets and bottles pressed into his hands at the end of the day or appearing in his hotel room. She spritzed him with lavender scented toner before he heard the crinkling of a foil packet. The thick ooze was swiped beneath his eyes. It was cold and it tingled. She left him with his head reclined. He counted slowly before he forced himself to lift his heavy head.
The leftover gin swished.
He opened his eyes and was greeted by his face as a blue panda bear. He picked up the script and flipped to the scene. He picked up his cup and swallowed the dregs of coffee letting it burn a little.
He began to read.
Interior Hotel Room
Mae Bright is pacing in her room at the Ambassador Hotel. It is too luxurious for her. It overwhelms the senses-
"How do I do that?" she interrupted. Lionel paused.
"Do what?"
"Be overwhelmed by a room with only three walls?" Her voice had a thin thread of panic. She was a singer by trade. This was new to her in a way it wasn't new to him.
"You'll be fine," he assured her, turning back to the script.
Mae Bright is pacing in her room at the Ambassador Hotel. It is too luxurious for her. It overwhelms the senses. She looks at her red ballgown in the mirror. She runs her hands over the embellishments as if she cannot believe it is real.
"I can do this."
She paces more. There is a knock. She stops. She knows she has to answer it. She takes a deep breath. She charges the door as if it is her last stand.
On the other side is Edward. He pauses and takes her in. -
Lionel's eyes drifted up to Stevie. Her face was tipped back by Tammy as she pressed foundation along her nose. Stevie's mouth was moving along with his reading. He was struck by how adorable it was.
-"You look beautiful."
"Are you going to say it like that?" Stevie interjected.
"Like what?"
"Like how you just said it."
"I don't know."
"How can you not know?" There was the rustle of her trying to turn and look at him. Tammy exhaled in frustration. Lionel Thelwell sighed as he moved closer to her. At least she wouldn't have to turn and disrupt the work.
"Thank you."
Edward offers her his arm and Mae sweeps into the hallway. She takes one last look at her hotel room. As if she is leaving some piece of herself behind.
"This script is bossy."
"You don't have to listen to it," Lionel looked up at her again. Her eyes were on the ceiling as Tammy penciled eyeliner into her waterline.
"You're reading it."
"I meant when you are in front of the camera."
He held back a laugh at her gripes. It would only agitate her, and that would make the day run even longer.
Interior Ball Room
The Ambassador hotel parties are famous for their grandeur. This year is no exception. Cameras flash as Edward enters with Mae on his arm. She smiles nervously. He seems immune.
They whisper to each other, their heads bent close. It is an intimate moment in a sea of chaos.
"I don't belong here."
"Of course you do."
"Don't leave me."
"I won't."
There is a swell of reporters and Edward pushes them through the knot. He signals for security.
On the other side, Mae straightens her gown.
"Are you alright?"
"Gee, I can't take you anywhere."
Lionel Thelwell looked up to see Stevie grin as she mouthed the line. Her eyes were closed. She looked young and nervous but more importantly she looked as if she was hearing something he couldn't; she took pleasure from the script, found it entertaining.
She must have noticed the silence because she opened her eyes. She blinked at him for a moment and he held her gaze. She had smoky black around her eyes, less heavy than the raccoon eyes they gave her on album covers.
She had very pretty brown eyes, he realized. Her mouth twisted for a moment as if she was biting her lip then she burst out laughing.
"What?" He asked looking at the script. Was she finally going to admit it was inane?
"Nothing, Prince Charming," she laughed as Tammy tilted her face back.
It was then Lionel remembered he was a panda bear.