Shopaholic to the Stars (Shopaholic #7)

Shopaholic to the Stars (Shopaholic #7) Page 72

We’ve been put in a side room and all the other extras are sitting around reading books and looking bored, but I’m roaming about, staying alert. The only slight downside is I haven’t yet managed to speak to anyone about job opportunities in wardrobe. Renée Slattery is nowhere to be seen, and all the wardrobe staff are quite harassed. I asked a question about my petticoat length, and the girl in charge said, “Doesn’t matter. Next?”

Doesn’t matter? How can a petticoat not matter?

Then I asked her how she got into her job, and she said, “I was idiot enough to want to get up at five A.M. my whole life,” which is not an answer, and shooshed me along.

“Background actors!” The second AD, Dino, is standing at the door. “Background actors to set, please!”

Ooh! That’s us!

As we file through the soundstage and onto the set, I feel a sizzle of excitement. It’s really happening! I’m going to be in a film! This set is far bigger than the last one and is the inside of a ship’s cabin. There are about ten extras, including Suze and me—all women—and according to a conversation I overheard just now, this is a key, important scene.

A key, important scene! What if it becomes one of those really famous movie scenes that gets shown on the telly all the time and I’m in it! What if I get discovered! I feel a ridiculous flicker of hope. I mean, I know I’ve never seriously considered acting as a career, but what if I have the right face for film and I never realized it before?

I’m gripped by a vivid fantasy in which Ant suddenly stops the shooting and focuses the camera on me, then turns to his assistant and says simply, My God. Look at her cheekbones.

I mean, OK, I know it’s not that likely. But I do have quite good cheekbones, and everything’s different when you look at it through a camera and—

“Bex!” Suze prods me. “Dino’s calling you!”

I hurry over to Dino and look expectantly at him, hoping he might say something like, I’d like to audition you for the small part of Pirate Princess.

“OK, you. Cake-eater girl.” He looks up from a list.

Cake-eater girl?

“I’m called Becky,” I tell him.

“Nice.” He’s clearly not listening. “Now, I’m placing you where Ant can’t see you. We don’t want him wound up any further. You’ll be polishing Gwennie’s shoes with this rag, and you stay in this position the whole scene. Keep your face down, away from the camera. Got it? Away from the camera.” He turns away, summoning the next girl, and I stare at him, crestfallen.

Away from the camera? But no one will see me. What about my family? I want to wail. How will they know it’s me?

I feel totally crushed as I get into position, groveling on the floor and clutching a manky old rag. This isn’t what I imagined at all. A girl who looks a bit like April Tremont has sat down on the chair and shoots me an uninterested glance. I guess she’s the stand-in.

“People!” Dino is clapping his hands. “A little background to the scene we’ll be playing. The pirates’ womenfolk are preparing for the marriage ceremony. Gwennie, played by April Tremont—” There’s a burst of applause from some of the extras, and Dino smiles in acknowledgment. “Gwennie is being given to the pirate bandit, Eduardo, played by Curt Millson. However, she’s in love with the rival pirate, Captain Arthur, aka captain of the Black Flag, and in this scene we’ll see this fact being discovered by Eduardo.”

“Hi,” I say miserably to the stand-in. “I have to polish your shoes.”

“Fine.” She lifts up her skirt and I rub her shoe dispiritedly.

“OK, we’re going to rehearse!” comes Dino’s voice. “Action!”

“Marriage to Eduardo,” says the stand-in, in a monotone. “Never while I’m alive.” She takes out a scarf and fondles it. “Oh, Arthur.”

“Background actors,” instructs Dino. “I want you to look at the scarf. You’re interested in it.”

Obediently, I crick my head to look at the scarf, but Dino immediately says, “Not you, cake-eater girl.”

Great. Everyone else gets to look at the scarf while I get to grovel on the floorboards. The door swings open with a creak and I hear the tramp of heavy boots.

“What is that pretty thing?” comes a deep, masculine voice. “Show me.”

“Never!” says the stand-in.

Then there’s some sort of tussle, but I can’t see because I don’t dare lift my head. This is so frustrating. I’m longing to see what it’s all about, but I can’t see a bloody thing, stuck down here. I’ll never get to do my twitch, let alone say, ’Tis true, Cap’n. It’s so depressing.