“If you use an angled brush, like this,” Fae was saying as she showed Ella how to create a specific textured look in the sand on the painting they were creating together, “you’ll get those darker clumps of sand to really pop off of the canvas.”
Ella watched carefully as Fae demonstrated the technique. When the mentor handed the brush over, the student did her best to mimic the same style. “Like this?” she asked.
For the first time in almost three months of filming, Rome walked onto the sound stage with a smile on his face. Granted, he was a good two hours late, but that was actually early compared to his recent schedule. He had been coming in anywhere from three to four hours late. He knew it was driving the director, Jeannie, insane, but for the most part, he hadn’t made them wait on him. Every day except for two or three they hadn’t been ready to start filming when he walked in because there was some sort of issue with that stupid ass robot, and he’d ended up waiting anyway.
Rome slept in late the next day. So relieved was he to be done with the robot movie that he determined not to set his alarm and to just wake up whenever he wanted to. It was a freeing feeling, one he knew wouldn’t last forever, but at least he could enjoy it for a day or two.When he finally opened his eyes, the sunlight was already pouring into the bedroom window, and Ella was gone, her side of the bed cold. He looked around, wondering where she might be, and checked the clock. It was almost 11:00.
It wasn’t like Henry to be late. If anything, it was Juliet that was the one running behind schedule most of the time, even though that drove Ella crazy. She checked the time on her phone again and took another drink of her cocktail. The vodka wasn’t well mixed, and it stung the back of her throat slightly. Where the hell was he? If he didn’t show up soon, she was just going to go. Maybe it would teach him a lesson about wasting her valuable time.“Juliet? Juliet!”
“Oh, my God! Henry! How are you!” Drew Main’s voice echoed in her ear, followed closely by her sister, Anna, exclaiming almost the same thing.The two made their way to the table, flutes in hand, dressed in trendy nightclub clothing, with lots of sparkles and more jewelry than Juliet owned. Henry stood and kissed their cheeks, grasping their hands as if they were old friends. Perhaps he was making such a fuss because he hoped Juliet would have the same pangs of jealousy he had had watching her with the famous quarterback, Parker Thompson. It wasn&rsq
“I don’t understand,” Rome said, sinking down on the bed next to her. Ella had taken a shower and washed the night club off of herself before she put on an oversized T-shirt and joined him in the bedroom. He had been pacing as she recounted most of the night’s events to him, but now, when she told him that she’d given Parker Thompson permission to call her, he was confused. She couldn’t blame him. She was a little confused herself. “What exactly is bringing a third guy into this supposed to accomplish? I’m not willing to be part of one of those weird reverse harem trendy things people have going on now.”
Waiting backstage in a green room was an experience Rome had dreamt about for a long time as a young boy. He used to watch the late night talk shows, but not to be entertained or hear the newest political jokes. He watched in order to study the process. How did actors behave when they weren’t on set? How did they move? How did they speak? How did a regular person sit in a chair on a stage in front of an audience and give off the impression that they were somehow larger than life--more important than the hundreds of other people in the room--so that they could entice viewers to rush out to the box office to see their next film?
Ella sat on the couch, her mouth hanging open, the remote in her hand as she prepared to pause the recording of Rome’s interview with Cliff and watch it again. She’d already been through it three times; once, the night before, when she’d watched it on its initial airing. This morning, she’d watched it two more times. Why she was obsessed with watching her husband lie to the world about Henry Caron’s intentions, she wasn’t sure, but she wanted to make sure she had every nuance of the conversation engrained in her mind because Henry had called her the night before, leaving a scathing message on her voicemail. She had yet to call him back, but when she did, she wanted to make sure she was sufficiently angry at all of the details Henry was surely
“I just don’t know what I’m going to do.” Henry took another drink, draining his glass. Was that his second or third? Juliet had lost track. It was hard enough pretending she was paying attention to him at all when all she wanted to do was jump back into her waiting car and head back home to Rome.The smell of him on her skin had washed off in the shower, but she could still feel his touch lingering there. If he had intended to sabotage her attempts at convincing Henry that she was interested in