Ivy had loved every second of sifting through the extras rack in the costume trailer. For herself, she had chosen a triple-layered loose knit sweater with grey, mauve and black on top of each other over a pair of black jeans. She’d made friends with the jewellery assistant who’d lent her a set of heavy silver bracelets that clunked as she moved. Awesome.
But something was threatening to spoil the fun, like a cloud of darkness hovering. Olivia had said straight as a stake that she didn’t want to date a vampire.
If I have just set Olivia up with a vampire, she could end up broken-hearted, Ivy thought. And it would be all my fault.
Ivy was following the group across the diner, mulling it over in her head.
‘Hey, watch it!’ Sophia grabbed Ivy, startling her. ‘Look!’ Sophia pointed at the ground.
Ivy was just about to step into a tangle of wires on the floor.
Lillian hurried over. ‘Disaster averted. Thank you,’ she said to Sophia. ‘If you’d pulled on those wires –’ Lillian indicated the lights above – ‘all of those would have come crashing down.’
‘Ohmygosh,’ Ivy replied. ‘I’m so sorry!’ Ivy wouldn’t want to do anything to get in trouble on set. Or ruin the set.
Sophia tugged Ivy around the equipment safely.
The production team had moved away all the normal diner booths except for the back row and one in front, obviously where the stars were going to sit.
‘You, purple sweater, sit there,’ Lillian said as she arranged the twenty or so extras in groups around the tables. ‘And you, T-shirt boy, you’re there.’
Ivy and Sophia got to sit together at a booth all the way on the right. When Lillian plunked some fake food in front of them, Ivy’s stomach churned – she still hadn’t had anything decent to eat. The plastic burger was starting to look tempting.
‘Now, remember,’ Lillian instructed. ‘You pretend to be talking whenever the cameras roll.’ She opened and closed her mouth soundlessly. ‘Pretend, got it?’
Lillian stood back and then frowned. ‘Hold up! We’re missing one. Where did that blonde go?’
The door to the Meat & Greet flew open and everyone turned to look. Ivy and Sophia gasped but no one else paid any attention. Charlotte Brown, wearing an outrageous blue feathered dress, clicked her way over to Lillian in super-high heels. She looked like she was going to prom.
‘She must be freezing,’ Sophia commented.
‘Sorry I’m late. The costume department couldn’t find anything that was right, so I had to do some emergency shopping.’ She did a twirl, not noticing the disdain on Lillian’s face.
Lillian crossed her arms. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit over the top for a diner, missy?’
‘Oh, I wear this sort of thing all the time.’ Charlotte waved her hand, but almost slipped out of her strappy heel.
Ivy sensed trouble brewing. Charlotte had obviously figured out that the Meat and Greet was not closed down because of a sewer problem and, once she spotted Ivy, there would be retaliation. How did she manage to get on set so quickly? Ivy wondered as she slunk down in her seat and let her hair fall over her face.
Lillian stuck Charlotte next to a guy wearing a beanie and cargo pants, almost as far from the camera as she could. Ivy sat up a little; Charlotte couldn’t see her from where she was sitting.
‘Non, non, non!’ shouted a small man with a goatee and a heavy French accent. ‘The colours, the colours!’
‘Sorry, Philippe,’ Lillian said. ‘I could –’
But he waved his hand in her face. He strode over and started yanking people up from their tables and rearranging them. Ivy realised he was the director and perhaps needed a good six months at a yoga retreat to find some inner peace. Philippe was like a grumpy fly, buzzing at everyone.
He marched over to Charlotte’s table. ‘You, in that blue!’
‘Moi?’ Charlotte sounded like she thought he was going to give her the starring role.
‘Take it off!’
‘Wh-what?’ Charlotte spluttered.
Ivy and Sophia – along with several other extras – leaned over to see what was happening.
‘Non, non. You will distract the eye.’ He snapped his fingers and pointed at a grey jacket on the back of his director’s chair. The man with the headphones scurried over with it and Philippe tossed the jacket at Charlotte. ‘Put this on and come with me.’
A miserable Charlotte did as she was told and scooted out of the booth. He grabbed her hand and dragged her to a different table, as she stumbled and tried to keep up.
Ivy looked away but not in time. Charlotte caught sight of her and shot a death stare that Ivy would have been proud of . . . if she hadn’t been on the receiving end of it.
‘Uh oh,’ Sophia said. ‘Busted.’
‘She can’t do anything now,’ Ivy whispered back. ‘She wouldn’t risk it.’
Once Charlotte was installed at the next table over, grey and drab, the director clapped his hands. ‘Where are my actors? Where? Where?’ He threw himself into his chair and covered his eyes with his hands.
The diner door opened again and Jackson strolled in right on cue, script in hand. There was no sign of Olivia; Ivy wondered what that meant. Maybe their private tour had been awful and Olivia decided she wasn’t interested after all. That would bring a swift end to Ivy’s matchmaking disaster. I hope she’s OK, Ivy thought.
Philippe leapt from his chair, gesticulating at Jackson. ‘This! I do not believe this. Don’t you know your lines?’