Shockingly, though, even though Orlando caught me breaking character, he doesn't say anything. I lock my gaze onto the tablet again, but I still sense him watching me. It feels like someone is undressing me piece by piece, stripping me completely bare. Is that how all directors look at you? Like they're peeling you apart and piecing you back together again? Like they're measuring and weighing you and imagining things about you that you've never imagined of yourself?It's hard having someone look at you like that. It's harder still when the person in question is incredibly attractive, and when you're hyperaware of the fact that you aren't wearing any underwear. I'm not sure whether to be nervous or turned on.Perspiration begins to bead on my skin again, and I redouble my attention on my tablet.Eventually, after what feels like forever - in reality, I think it comes out to roughly thirty-seven takes - Orlando decides he's happy with the scene. He relaxes back in his chair, and I swe
I bite my lip, bracing myself for the worst. This might be even more embarrassing than the panty thing. Someone as intense and serious as Orlando probably doesn't take well to people drawing caricatures of him on his own set. I'm probably about to get fired in front of the entire crew. Over stupid doodles!Instead, he tilts his head back and laughs.I glance toward Ford. He looks just as startled and confused as I feel."You have some talent, Maggie," Orlando says finally, still smiling. "You're an artist, then?""I...just doodle," I tell him. "For fun. I know it's inappropriate, but - ""Inappropriate? A few sketches?" His eyes gleam as he studies my work. "I'd have probably made Omar twice as tall, though. And Ford's teeth twice as big."Ford visibly bristles, but he says nothing.Orlando finally shifts his gaze away from the screen and back to me. "And is that really what you think of me?"Honestly, I'm not sure what part of the drawing he's talking about. The hair? The lase
I can't breathe.That's the first thing I notice. The second thing I notice is that there are small, pastel-colored shapes flickering across my vision. I wonder what that means. My body aches in a dozen places, but there's a particularly sharp shooting pain in my left elbow. And another in my right hip.Little by little, I become aware of my surroundings again. I'm lying on the parking lot, and I smell car exhaust and the hot tar scent of asphalt baking in the sun. And there's something - no, someone - on top of me.With a grunt, the person moves, pushing himself up onto his elbows. Suddenly I can breathe again, and my head starts to clear.I twist slightly, rolling fully onto my back to get my face away from the hot asphalt. My elbow throbs again, but my hip feels better now that I've shifted my weight off it.And just when I thought I couldn't be embarrassed any more today, I look up and realize who is on top of me.This close, Orlando smells like the mountains. Like evergreen
Karen steps in front of me, effectively blocking Orlando from my view. Within seconds, the medics descend on me, and I find myself poked and prodded all over. They don't seem to believe me at first that I didn't hit my head, but at least they don't insist on sending me to the hospital. Eventually, they admit that I've suffered nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises.The moment they're done, Karen grabs me by the arm and guides me around the side of the building to the makeup tent. I twist around, trying to catch another glimpse of Orlando - that woodsy, manly scent of his still lingers in my nostrils - but I don't see him.Why did I call myself Panty Girl? I lament as I'm dragged along. God, I hope that doesn't stick. If I was going to give myself a nickname, why didn't I pick something sexy? Or at least something that didn't sound like a kindergarten insult?But he laughed, another part of my mind points out. And Ford says he never laughs. Surely that's a good thing?Karen gi
Penny's warning surprises me."Watch out for Ford?" I ask. "He's a bit full of himself, but I felt bad sending him off after he bought me lunch."Penny pulls her makeup kit forward. "He's also made it his personal goal to bang every female extra that walks across this set.""And he thinks he's God's gift to acting," says one of her assistants, adding another eyeroll to the party. "He gets a part in one movie and now he expects the world to be fawning at his feet.""I was hoping he was just being friendly," I say. "I guess I still have a lot to learn about what goes on behind the scenes here, huh?"Penny wipes something on my knee. It stings, but I try not to squirm."Honey, you can do whatever you want," she says. "You want to sleep with him? Sleep with him. I'm just warning you to use some protection. That man is a walking STD. Which reminds me - Phoenix, get this girl her underwear."My face burns as the faux-hawked young man who did my hair earlier grabs a plastic bag and car
The way the whole tent bursts into laughter, I know I'm missing something."Who's Nadia?" I ask."Nadia Sweet. Orlando's latest fling." Phoenix tucks a loose strand of hair into my ponytail."She's a supermodel. They met when he was at a film festival in Milan," Penny tells me. "I don't know why she's here in Atlanta - maybe she's shooting a campaign or something."Phoenix jumps back in. "She's stopped by our set three times in the last week. And they left together on Friday. I saw them when I was packing up.""Apparently he's okay with bringing his girlfriends to set, just not finding them there," Jade adds.Any confidence boost I got from Orlando's attention to me is quickly deflating. I should have known he'd have a girlfriend already - or at least someone to warm his bed at night, an outlet for all the tension he builds up on set every day. I have no idea what Nadia looks like, but I guarantee she's much hotter than me. There's no way he'd look twice at an extra when he has a
"What'd you do, go back to school when I wasn't looking?" my brother asks me. "I hate to say it, Maggie, but taking on even more student loans is probably not the best idea right now."I look up from the huge book in my lap. I can only imagine what Justin is thinking - there he is, just home from his respectable, grown-up job, still in his suit and tie, and the first thing he sees is me spread out on his couch, flipping through a huge book with the TV on in the background. And wearing leggings that definitely don't pass the bend-over test. Chadwick, his cat, is curled up on my stomach, purring."Shouldn't you be sending out more resumes or something?" he says."I sent out sixteen today," I tell him patiently. I also called and emailed the woman who was supposed to interview me but - no surprise - she hasn't returned any of my messages. My brother of all people knows how hard I've been working to find a job - he's not the sort of guy who would let me stay with him otherwise - but he'
Cursing, I throw myself out of bed and run over to my closet. I grab my pencil skirt and blouse - they told me to wear professional clothes again - and pull them on as I run to the bathroom. At least I know my hair and makeup will be taken care of on set, and as much as I hate to skip brushing my teeth, I have mints in my purse. I quickly pee - while running a brush throw my hair at the same time - then bolt back out, grab my purse, and literally sprint out to my car.Today's scenes will be shot at a different building. It's closer to Justin's apartment than the last one, but it's still a good fifteen-minute drive. Fortunately, it's early enough that Atlanta's morning rush hour hasn't started in force - another half hour and I'd have been completely screwed.As it is, I roll into the office building's parking lot a good twenty minutes late. The sun has crept up over the horizon, turning the sky a dozen shades of orange, but here beneath all the buildings and trees everything is still