Page 5 of Act Three
Even though I was satisfied I’d packed everything I needed, I was so nervous that I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep.
3
KYLA
Iwoke half an hour before my alarm went off, alert and ready to go. Even though the outfits I’d chosen to bring with me were ready in the garment bag, I still needed something to wear to and from the shoot.
I didn’t want my prosthetic leg to be visible on camera, so I chose a blue maxi dress that amplified the color of my eyes, and a pair of ankle boots.
Wear your normal day-to-day makeup, Marina’s instructions said.
I wasn’t much of a makeup person — my mom died when I was too young to be interested in things like that, and my dad didn’t know anything about it. But I had a few bits and pieces that friends had given me over the years, so I dug them out of their drawer and put them on: a thin layer of tinted moisturizer, some pink lip gloss and a swipe of mascara.
I looked nice but not too overdone, I decided, as I tied my hair back in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom. It was the kind of outfit I might wear to a relaxed family lunch, or a day at the beach. If my job was to blend into the background, I was going tosmashit.
“Want some food?” Dad asked as I rushed past. He was frying bacon and eggs, and I was shocked to see him in the kitchen this early. He rarely woke up before noon and nevercooked meals from scratch.
I knew he’d been excited about my new job, but I hadn’t realizedhowexcited until that moment.
I normally loved eating a big breakfast — I needed the energy when I worked in a job that kept me on my feet all day — but today, I was so nervous that the smell made my stomach twist.
“No, thanks.” I draped my garment bag over the back of a chair and peered into the skillet. “I’m so excited, I don’t think I could eat.”
Dad chuckled.
“You’re so much like your mother. Stress always made me ravenous.” He gave me a fond look as the food sizzled. “I’m so proud of you. Break a leg… isn’t that what actors say?”
“I think that’s theater, not movies.” I opened the fridge and grabbed a packet of cheese and crackers. If I couldn’t eat breakfast, at least I could bring a snack. Marina’s instructions said that some film sets were catered, but that I shouldn’t count on it. “Which is lucky — I don’t think I could break titanium.” I pulled my dress up to my knee so he could see my prosthesis.
“Touché.” Dad dug his egg flipper under the bacon and moved it around in the pan. “Well, have fun anyway.”
I was glad we could joke about my injury now. For the first few years after the accident, any mention of my prosthetic made him quiet and moody. Now, at least, he plucked the toast out of the toaster, and plated it up, ready for the bacon. He looked tired, with his scruffy beard and heavy bags under his eyes, but happy enough.
“Love you,” I said, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
The movie was being filmed not far out of town, at Rainforest Resort, a tourist attraction that had closed down years ago andfallen into disrepair. I followed Marina’s instructions to park behind the main building and found the parking lot full of cars already.
Was I late?
I checked my watch for the hundredth time, and reminded myself that I was, in fact, fifteen minutes early, and the other extras must have been as excited as I was.
I felt great about my outfit choice until I’d walked halfway up a row of parked cars and saw April: she’d dressed like she was heading into a professional photoshoot, in a short red bandage dress and dramatic makeup. She strode toward me, her stilettos grinding on the gravel, and ran her fingers through her blown-out hair.
“You look… uh…” My eyes traveled over the cleavage that threatened to pop out of the dress’s low neckline, and my simple cotton maxi suddenly felt cheap and childlike.
Had I misinterpreted Marina’s email? Did the wordsnormal day-to-day makeupmean something different in Hollywood?
“Dress for the job youwant, not the job youhave. Isn’t that what they say?” April winked at me and pulled the dress down her thighs, making her breasts bulge even more. As soon as she let it go, it sprang back to its normal length, only an inch or two down from her underwear.
“I guess so.”
I tried not to think about how frumpy I looked as we walked past parked cars, carrying the garment bag over my shoulder. We followed signs with arrows on them until we found the other twenty-somethings gathered outside a propped-open door. Their outfits were similar to mine, and I felt a rush of relief as I realized I hadn’t misinterpreted Marina’s instructions after all.
A woman in a fluorescent orange safety vest stood at the doorway with a clipboard and steered people through the doortwo or three at a time. It was a long queue, and the garment bag was heavier than I’d expected, with all its weight hanging from the coat hangers I’d looped over my curled fingers. I shuffled my feet back and forth to ease the pressure on my knees and wondered how April seemed so comfortable in her stilettos.
The other extras seemed bored until suddenly they gasped and whispered while staring at something behind us.
“There they are!”
