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Romantic Drama
Chapter One: Seeing Stars
By Queen Beryl
Genre: Romance/ (anything)
Rating: T. (I don't cuss, nor do I prance around sleeping with people. Why should the stories I read?)
Likes: Comedy-- well, actually, a full range of the emotions is what really defines good literature, relative sexual tension (again, is excessive amounts really necessary?), bad-"A" guys are always fun, and a wide, entertaining range of vocabulary.
Dislikes: Repetitious phrases, excessive cursing, explicit scenes, thick stereotypes, and cliché-ness.
Words/phrases to use: "blank is/was so crazy good, blank is/was BETTER than a Pop-Tart!", "That's what you get for not READING." (in regard to vocabulary, or not knowing something), and "Whadda they think we're gonna do?! Sacrifice you to the heathen gods?! ... pause or further conversation... Not like we could anyway. We'd need a young, virgin girl for that or else it wouldn't work right."
Now, I’m not a high, “in-demand” actress, but had I known at first that he was the leading male, I would have not-so-politely declined the offer. Whose idea was it to even put us together, anyway? I need to fire my agent. I digress.
Well, I’m stuck doing the movie now, so I’d better suck it up for a while. I’d have to truly put my acting skills to the test and pretend that I didn’t want to strangle Rick Chamberstone.
“Miss Rose?” A voice called out tentatively, coupled with light knocking on my door. I turned to the mirror, pretending to admire myself. I didn’t want whoever it was to think I wasn’t full of myself. It was fun to mess with their minds like that.
“How can I help you?” I tore my eyes away from the mirror when I saw a mousy-looking girl wearing a headset that made her look as if she was about to topple over. She was my favorite cameraperson.
“I was just making sure you were all ready.” She stood hesitantly in the doorway, looking at a picture-covered wall. Of course, the pictures were all of me.
“Are we to begin soon?” I arose from my stool in front of my vanity and smoothed down the front of my costume.
“Two minutes.” She said, bobbing her head that now appeared too-large for her body. She was a precise girl— none of the “five minutes” when you actually had eight nonsense. She suddenly disappeared from the room, off to finish her rounds, I supposed. I quickly checked my make-up and hair before sticking a tongue out at my reflection and leaving my dressing room. I headed toward the set, hoping not to make an entrance. I didn’t enjoy disrupting people like that. I had fairly succeeded when Rick, who had been rehearsing his lines in a low mutter, happened to glance up and see me arrive. He grinned boyishly and waved. I smiled back, desperately wanting to ignore him. However, I’d made a promise to myself to pretend he didn’t rub me the wrong way.
You see, Rick’s an extremely gorgeous individual—and he knew it. Everyone else knew it as well. Time Magazine’s Hottest Man of the Year last year. Too bad I could care less; I stopped my subscription to that magazine after that and threw the copy away.
“Rose! Come here!” Rick beckoned dramatically. He always called me by my last name; that drove me nuts. I wanted to pretend I didn’t see him, but I knew he’d only get louder and louder. Besides, I’m a woman of my word.
“Rick,” I greeted as I came up beside him. He ran a hand through is short, spiked brown hair. I could hear his hair stylist cringe from here, and she wasn’t even in the room.
“You ready?” He asked, his bright green eyes focusing in on me. I wanted to poke him and then laugh. I restrained myself.
“I think I’ve gotten most of the lines down.” I replied modestly. Rick shook the script in his hand.
“Me, too. I hope we don’t have to do so many takes.”
We will—you’re never satisfied, I thought. Aloud, I just said, “Ditto.”
“Places, everyone!” The director, J.C., called, followed by other directions for the camera crew. Rick grabbed my hand, after tossing down his script on the table, and dragged me over to the set. I ignored the way my hand seemed to turn to ice and how I just wanted to smack him. Rick didn’t even notice anything amiss. I rolled my heavily made-up blue-gray eyes.
“We’re starting at the beginning on this one. I’m trying a new approach: start from the beginning and go all the way through instead of randomly shooting scenes.” J.C. explained. I was starting to think maybe he had sense. “Let’s get to it!” This man never said action. I’d been in another movie he had directed and learned that useless piece of information. I found it funny at least.
I walked over to my off-camera spot, tossing my auburn hair forward so it draped happily over one shoulder. Rick and Samuel Banks, a “lesser” actor were going through their dialogue together. I liked Sam; he was a decent fellow as well as a decent actor. Sometimes he went a bit overboard, but he was still young. He’d learn. Well, young as an actor. He was thirty, the oldest of the cast. I was the youngest—at twenty-two— and it varied with everyone else. Rick was twenty-four and enjoyed flaunting it. Don’t as me why.
“Miss Rose… queue in fifty seconds. Do you remember your opening line?” The mousy-camera girl whispered, very close to my ear. I briefly wondered why she wasn’t manning— or was it womanning?— the camera.
“Is it, ‘I do declare!’?” I joked. She giggled and disappeared. I wanted to find out her name; she seemed more laid back than the rest of the crew.
Three… two… one. I counted in my head before walking calmly onto the stage. The walk seemed to take forever and a dozen cameras were following me.
“Rebecca! Oh, is that you?” Samuel’s character called.
“Why, Ken, is it so? I haven’t seen you in ages, darling!” I called out.
“Cut!” Director J.C. hollered. I frowned slightly, wondering if I’d messed up my lines. “That was perfect!” I guess not.
“Rose, you were wonderful!” Rick called, rushing over to Sam and me. Did I also mention that he’s a butt-kiss? I loathed the most handsome, wonderfully charming man on Earth! I was insane to be sure.
“Thanks,” I replied, plastering on a fake smile and trying to sound sincere, “You were absolutely marvelous. I hope they use that take.”
“Yeah, me too.” Samuel sighed, rubbing his throat. He had complained of a sore throat yesterday. I hope it didn’t spread.
Rick and Sam went back to going over their lines for the next part and I silently went over mine. I came out of my reverie, confident I knew it all, and discovered Rick staring at me. I jumped.
“What?” I demanded, forgetting to be nice.
“Nothing.” Rick turned away and headed back to his spot off-screen but on stage.
“What was that all about?” I asked Sam, who grinned and shrugged. Something was up, and I knew it. Maybe I’d started muttering my lines out loud and Rick thought it was comical. Insensitive jerk.
“All together, people!” J.C. bellowed. “We’re gonna shoot the scene again!”
I cleared my throat and listened to the dialogue with half an ear. Finally my turn came up and I repeated the earlier process. I was relieved that J.C. didn’t say “cut!” this time.
“Rebecca, my dear sister, I have someone I would like you to meet!” Sam pulled me close to him in a hug and walked me over to a bench. There sat Rick, who was portraying the dashing best friend with whom my character falls head-over-heels in love. Go figure.
“W-who is that?” I clutched my pearls and my breath caught in my throat. Rick looked up, startled to see me, and jumped up.
“This is my best friend, James O’Hannon. We worked on the railroads together and thought it would be fun if he came and stayed with us for a while. James, this is my sweet baby sister, Rebecca.”
Rick reached out and pulled my hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving mine. He kissed my hand, allowing his touch to linger significantly. I blushed, a shy smile on my face.
“Ken, you never told me about him.” I chided lightly, keeping my eyes on Rick’s. For a moment, it all seemed real.
“Cut!” J.C. mumbled, apparently distracted by something. He jumped off his Director’s chair and jogged over to us.
“Something wrong?” Rick asked, finally letting go of my hand. I wiped it on my dress when he wasn’t looking.
“No, no. It was beautiful. You, my dear,” J.C. turned to me, “were brilliant. That slight blush simply added to the ‘first love’ affect!”
I was surprised that I was being praised, but nodded and muttered a “thank you.” Sam clapped me on the back.
“I knew you were a good actress.”
“Maybe she’s just a terrible one in disguise.” Rick smirked, suddenly showing his cruel side. There were two sides to Rick: Mr. Charming and the side that got me hating him to begin with.
“It must be the latter because nobody could possibly compare to you, Rick.” I smiled. He looked startled and I realized he didn’t get my sarcasm. I almost said something but J.C. began yelling at someone behind us.
“She’s right, you know. You are simply amazing.” The Prima Donna, Salia Richards, sauntered up, leaning one hand on my shoulder and smiling seductively at Rick. I forced myself to have no physical reaction such as rolling my eyes or shoving The Prima Donna off me.
“Of course; only the best person for the role, right?” Rick half-grinned. Salia laughed, reaching forward with her lovely manicured hand, and lightly pushed Rick’s chest. I almost walked away, but The Prima Donna had a nice, firm grip on my shoulder.
“Alright, people. Let’s get to it. Next scene. We’re keeping that last take, unless there are any objections from the cast?” J.C. snuck a pointed look at Rick. I smirked slightly.
“I think that last take was fantastic,” I ventured, wondering if my word would mean anything. J.C. didn’t even look at me. In fact, nobody did except for Rick; all other eyes were on him.
“I agree.” Rick nodded at me. Then everyone looked at me, wondering what it was I’d said. “On to the next scene.”
“Good, very good.” J.C. headed back over to his chair and shouted something to one of his assistants. “Places!”
Sam, Rick, and I stood where we were a few minutes before. I went over the last line in my head. We always overlapped last lines. Rick grabbed my hand and held it close to his face, putting a smile on his face.
“Rick, no smile. You weren’t smilin’ last time.” I whispered as J.C. shouted out instructions to the crew. Sam was fidgeting in his place, mumbling lines.
“Really?” Rick asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m positive.” I nodded, my voice still hushed. Rick forcefully pulled the smile from his face and cleared his throat.
“All together!” J.C. announced.
“Ken, you never told me about him.” I chided lightly, keeping my eyes on Rick’s, repeating my line.
“Yeah, Ken, you never told me about her,” Rick smiled, the one that set young girls’ knees buckling.
“Of course I did!” Sam’s character defended. “I wrote about him in a letter, and I told you about my kid sister.”
“She’s hardly a kid,” Rick’s voice got deeper, “and it’s certainly a pleasure, Rose.”
“Cut!” J.C. yelled, followed by a sigh. Rick looked over at J.C. with a questioning look on his face. I jerked my hand out of his.
“What’s wrong?” Rick demanded. I looked at him, almost laughing.
“You said Rose instead of Rebecca.” I murmured, leaning forward conspiratorially. Rick slapped his forehead lightly.
“Alright, let’s try the last name, er, line again.” J.C. made some movements with his hands. Rick picked up my hand again. I was getting tired of this.
“She’s hardly a kid,” Rick’s voice got deeper again, and this time he kissed my hand, “and it’s certainly a pleasure, Rebecca.”
“The pleasure, Mr. O’Hannon, is all mine.”
“James. Please call me James.” He finally let go of my hand, making a show of the reluctance. I bit my lower lip, and turned my eyes away.
“Very well, James.” I looked back at him and smiled.
“Ahem,” Samuel cleared his throat, “why don’t we head on home?”
“Here.” James extended his arm to me, which I accepted, and we started off.
“Cut! That was passionate and lively! We’re using that take!” J.C. seemed ecstatic and didn’t even look to Rick for approval. “Go ahead and take half an hour, people. Set up for the next scene!”
We, meaning Rick, Sam, and I, headed toward our respective dressing rooms. Rick’s and Sam’s were right next to each other, while mine was at the far end, two away from Sam’s.
“Hey, Audrea!” Sam called out as we began to part ways. I turned back.
“Hmm?”
“Come hang out with us.” Sam suggested, nodding his head to his dressing room. I looked back at my room longingly, but decided to join them. It wouldn’t be polite if I didn’t, and I had to get along with everyone while filming. Even if I hated them; or maybe especially if I hated them.
We entered Sam’s room, which was the same style as mine only mirrored. I don’t mean covered in mirrors, either. Sam plopped down on one end of his overstuffed couch, and Rick sat on the other end. I stood in the doorway for a moment before sitting in a comfortable-looking chair that faced the couch, separated by a low coffee table that was piled with magazines and newspapers. Sam apparently noticed my gaze.
“I like to keep up on the happenings.” He shrugged. I nodded, not bothering to even comment. “There’s nothing to do here for half an hour.”
“We could talk,” Rick suggested. Wow, that was first rate, Rick. What a concept! I struggled not to snicker.
“Okay, what about?” I crossed my arms over my chest and awaited his intelligent conversation.
“Did you see me in Time Magazine?” Rick began, grinning. My heart sank. That article came out at least two months ago! And why did the conversation have to be about him? Why not something more interesting, like bikes? Or the weather?
“You’re in it again?” Sam sounded pleasantly surprised. He smiled widely over at Rick.
“No, no. The same one, ‘Hottest Man of the Year;’ I could hardly believe it.” Rick beamed and smiled over at me. I smiled back, unfolding my arms and digging my fingernails into the leather of the seat.
“You’re great and you know it,” Samuel laughed, thoroughly enjoying the insanity.
“Yeah, I am so crazy good, I am better than a Pop-Tart!” Rick boasted. I coughed into my hand to disguise my laughter. The worst part is that I know he’s serious. Sam just nodded, although I couldn’t tell if it was in agreement or just because he had nothing to say. I prayed for an interruption.
And it came!
“Excuse me,” the mousy girl with the giant headset entered, knocking just as lightly as she had the first time that day.
“What do you want?” Rick demanded harshly. I sent him a fiery look that I didn’t care if he saw or not; which he ended up not seeing. How could he be so rude?
“Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I just need to speak to Ms. Rose for a moment, if it’s alright.” She didn’t seem fazed by Rick’s vile attitude. I got up quickly and whisked out of the room right behind the girl.
“What do you need?” I asked kindly, offering her a smile.
“J.C. wants to see you; he’s in his office,” she informed me and started to walk away. J.C. usually went to the actors instead of wanting them to go to him. I frowned. Whatever it was couldn’t be good.
“Wait!” I called out, just before she disappeared around the corner.
“Yes?”
“What’s your name?”
“Shellie,” she paused and looked at me as though I was going to scream at her for having such a name.
“Shellie,” I repeated with a nod, “that’s a good name.”
She looked surprised, but I walked off in the opposite direction before she could say anything. If J.C. wanted me to come to him, it was important. I was becoming slightly nervous.
I reached his temporary office on the set and knocked heavily.
“Come in,” was muffled, but definitely sounded like J.C.; I opened the door and entered. “Shut the door behind you.”
I did as he said, even though I’d planned on closing it anyway. J.C. was sitting behind his desk, one leg propped on the desk, and a clipboard propped on that thigh. He was busy scribbling something in his unreadable penmanship that only his personal assistance could really interpret. I stood awkwardly in front of the closed door. Do I sit? Do I wait until he offers me a seat?
“Sit,” he barked, tossing down the pen he was using to write with and straightened in his chair. He set the clipboard on his desk and stretched as I took my seat. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Well obviously.
“More specifically, I wanted to talk to you about your performance in this film.” J.C. clarified. He adjusted his Buddy Holly glasses and tapped the side of his head. I sucked in breath through my teeth.
“Did I do something wrong? You said that I was good,” I began. I paused and straightened my posture. I wouldn’t look like a begging child.
“Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry. I just want you to… up the attraction for the film. I want you to be in love with Rick’s character. Now, I requested you specifically for this film. Your agent had to be persuaded greatly.” J.C. raised his eyebrows. I shrugged dismissively. Maybe I won’t fire him after all. “Anyway, I know you can act. Even though you’re young, you’re one of the best actresses I’ve had work for me. I want you to love Rick’s character with a fiery passion.”
“I can do that.” I nodded. Albeit with great difficulty.
“I know you can. That’s why I’m telling you to do it.” J.C. arose from his seat and came around the other side of the desk. I stood up likewise and waited his next move. “Just be the amazing you I know you are.”
“Will do. Thanks, J.C.,” I headed toward the door, pulled it open, and went back toward the dressing rooms.
That’s when I heard the high-pitch giggling. I knew it was The Prima Donna, but I still debated on whether to go into Sam’s dressing room or not. I could just leave and go into mine.
“That’s so funny!” Salia exclaimed, followed by an irritating giggle. “I still don’t know why I didn’t make the lead girl. I mean, Audrea Rose? Come on! She isn’t even on any magazine covers!”
“That’s because I don’t want to be,” I whispered, pressing against the wall, waiting to hear what everyone else would say.
“True, but she’s a decent actress.” Rick sounded as though he didn’t know which side he wanted to be on. Decent?
“Hardly. She was totally blushing during the scene. Even J.C. called her on it.” Salia scoffed. I gritted my teeth.
“I thought it was her good acting,” Sam offered meekly.
“No, silly. It was because she’s attracted to Rick; she is a woman after all,” Salia laughed that sounded like deformed hiccupping. I frowned and decided I didn’t want to hear anymore. I turned to walk away when I was thwarted.
“Audrea,” another one of the actors, Genevieve Williams, appeared out of nowhere, causing me to scream. Like a little girl.
“What was that?” I could hear Salia Richards ask. Nobody came to investigate.
“Good grief!” I pressed my hand to my rapidly beating heart and breathed in deep.
“Sorry, I thought you saw me,” Genevieve laughed. “I just wanted to get the chance to rehearse lines with you. You know, for the next scene.”
“Oh, sure, sure. No problem. Right now?”
“If you’re not busy,” Genevieve smiled. I nodded and followed her back to the edge of the set. I looked around for a spare script, which there was none.
“Just give me a hint if I stumble,” I stated, too lazy to go back to Sam’s dressing room where I was sure my copy of the script was left behind.
“Okay. So, we’re going to start when I’m sick. I got all my other junk—I mean lines—down, but I’m having trouble when I contract yellow fever.” Genevieve explained. I nodded.
“Alright. So, I walk in and you’re lying on the bed,” I nodded, picturing the script in my head. “Okay, go.”
“Rebecca! I’m so glad you’ve arrived! I was beginning to—”
“Wait, wait. Stop right there,” I interrupted. Genevieve gave me a questioning look. “You’ve got to remember you’re sick. You can’t sound so enthusiastic. Make pauses and labored breathing.”
“Oh, right, right. Of course,” Genevieve chuckled, a twinge of pink on her tan cheeks.
“Again, people!” I mocked J.C., to which Genevieve laughed appreciatively.
“R-Rebecca… I’m so glad you’ve arrived! I was beginning to… worry that you wouldn’t make it on time.”
“Make it on time?” I questioned, doing my best to sound worried. “What do you mean?”
“I’m dying, Rebecca,” Genevieve struggled, glancing down at the script to make sure she was saying it correctly.
“What? Melody, you’re not dying. You have a fever, that’s it.”
“I’ve been vomiting and I have… these terrible headaches,” Genevieve pressed her hand to her head and coughed weakly. She was definitely improving her acting skills.
“I don’t understand,” I raised an eyebrow, hoping that was my right line.
“The doctor came… two days ago, Rebecca, to tend to me,” Genevieve paused a moment, glanced down at her script, and went on. “He said I have the yellow fever.”
“No, it cannot be!” I proclaimed.
“What can’t be?” Salia interrupted our practice. “Oh, you’re so dramatic, whatever it’s over.”
“We’re rehearsing lines, Salia,” I stated through gritted teeth. Genevieve didn’t say anything; she didn’t like getting in the middle of an argument. She and Salia were on pretty good terms; Genevieve got along with everyone. She took the opportunity of the distraction to read over her lines.
“Oh, you need the extra practice, huh, Audrea Rose?” Salia raised a thinly plucked eyebrow in an extremely condescending manner. I clenched my fists at my side.
“No, I was just helping Genevieve.”
“That’s funny; Genevieve is a quick study. She doesn’t need to go over and over lines like some other less qualified actors.” Salia was doing it on purpose. She was deliberately baiting me. And damn if it was working!
“Salia…” Genevieve piped up, reaching out a hand as though to stop her from saying any more. Salia clicked her tongue in dismissal.
“I have better things to do than talk to Audrea Rose,” she shrugged and walked past me, bumping into my shoulder as she did so. So, I acted on my first instinct; I turned around and shoved her.
Salia stumbled forward, straightened, and turned to look back at me. She glared daggers at me. I scowled right back. Genevieve looked worried, casting her gaze from Salia to me and back again.
“How dare you touch me!” She seethed. “You’re not worthy to touch me!”
“Yes… I might contract a disease,” I responded tartly.
“Now, now ladies, let’s not fight; unless you both are wearing swimsuits.” Rick chuckled, coming from behind me and slinging his arm around my shoulders; he reached out and did the same to Salia. I ducked out from under his arm.
“Half hour is up, people!” J.C. called, sufficiently preventing me from saying anything that would diminish my character. And I don’t mean Rebecca. “Let’s get to it!”
We took our places for the next scene, all the while I was seething; however, I did get some satisfaction when I discovered that Salia was pouting just off stage.
