In Her Arms (Indigo Lounge #4)

2. Goldie

2

GOLDIE

F or the first time in three days, Goldie was finally alone. No being chased around by overbearing directors, no more avoiding public spaces for the sake of not drawing attention. She had managed to find a place where she could be by herself. The bright overhead lights of the hair-and-makeup trailer stung her eyes and the whole room smelled of hairspray, but here, she could have some peace and quiet before filming.

Adam, her useless assistant, had walked out. That was hardly surprising. Goldie wasn’t going to lie to herself and say she had particularly high expectations for an assistant, but, honestly, just walking off the set was unprofessional. She had a high standard that he had known about going into the job—and for good reason. During a busy filming schedule, every free minute counted for learning lines, rehearsing, filming, and—maybe most importantly—decompressing. She hadn’t had much time to decompress, to drop out of character and just exist as herself, and that would only get worse now that she had to leave to get her own lunch. The vegetarian options at the caterer’s table were awful, and the only restaurant nearby was constantly packed with people. She knew she would be swarmed with well-meaning people there. Here, she had some peace. It was early in the morning, about three hours before filming was due to begin that day, and about forty-five minutes before the hair and makeup crew would be arriving. A cedarwood-scented candle wafted through the air, masking the chemical smell of stage makeup and hairspray around Goldie. She allowed herself to relax, feeling tension melt away with deep breaths. She took a moment to think.

Who was Goldie Richards, really, when she was at home? She was a lot of things she couldn’t be in public. Hell, the toned-down version of herself that had been carefully curated during some very expensive media training when she was younger had caused uproar. She had become extremely cautious as a result, only appearing on recorded interviews or live prestigious events instead of fan meet-ups or conventions. You were much less likely to be scouted by tabloid paparazzi at a prestigious film festival, after all.

In front of the camera? She was a good actress; she knew that much. You can only be humble about being good at your job for so long before assuming everybody else knows it, too, especially in an industry as reputation-obsessed as entertainment. Her reputation had built back up from her comedy days, and now she had a very positive public image, even if it had sprouted from the image she had when she was younger. She was a role model and, paradoxically, a reluctant sex symbol. Goldie Richards, blonde bombshell and comedic powerhouse, she was the entertainment, on and off set. She hadn’t been able to shake that. Ever.

Except that was hopefully changing. As much as she loved the chick flicks and stoner comedies of her youth, she had not gotten into Juilliard only to play “push-up bra model with good comedic delivery” every movie for the rest of her career, and she wasn’t getting any younger. Though she had gotten onto panels at competitions and was generally considered an expert in her field, her body of work didn’t quite reflect that. Television was a good change of pace for her. She had tested the waters the year before with a drama that had earned her three Emmys, but Paperweight would be the real challenge. A legal drama, her character was being introduced as a love interest for the protagonist, played by famed heartthrob Leon Addison. Goldie was intensely fond of Leon. They had taken the same college course and had remained firm friends in the decades since, keeping each other company. He knew she was a lesbian and was only one of a handful of people she could trust with the secret, and she quietly hoped he would be able to set her up on a date with somebody else who could understand the very delicate position she was in. She had given up on dating a long time ago, but she had not given up on romcoms. Couldn’t she dream a little?

Her contentment was shattered by a knock on the door of the trailer. It was probably the hair and makeup crew.

“Come in!” she called, trying to be as cheerful as possible.

After everything that had happened with Adam, word had spread, and she felt like people were avoiding her. As much as she tried not to let it get to her, she felt like was being treated like a ticking bomb already. She just wanted to be able to get on with her job, and she wouldn’t be able to do that if everybody avoided her. She heard the door handle click.

She did not recognize the woman who walked in. Clearly apprehensive, she had a tote bag slung over her shoulder. She was tall, probably about six feet, and her hair hung around her chin in a shaggy cut. She wasn’t wearing makeup, but the definition of her lips and her high cheekbones gave her an androgynous look. She carried a clipboard and was wearing a pair of 501 jeans, a pair of boots, and a pullover sweater underneath a canvas workwear jacket. She looked...practical.

She smiled at this stranger, hoping she wasn’t being robbed or fired. She looked like a crew member, and the lanyard around her neck had what looked like a staff pass. Still, people had recreated them before. Better safe than sorry. “And who might you be?”

“I’m, uh, I’m Cameron Warner, ma’am. The agency sent me to replace Adam. I have a copy of your schedule for today here, and I can grab whatever you need.”

Adam’s replacement! Delightful. That was far too quick for her liking.

“Do they have a room full of replacement assistants they keep in cryogenic freeze until one of them gets sick of their job?” she asked.

Cameron forced a laugh, looking at Goldie up and down in a way she clearly thought was subtle enough that she wouldn’t notice.

Poor thing. She didn’t mean anything by it, of course, but it was too early in the morning for this.

“I’m afraid not. They’ve only got a few of us. We share a room full of bunk beds, and we all have the same name so they don’t have to remember our faces.”

“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least. The agency gets up to some weird tricks trying to keep their workers in line.”

Cameron smiled and shifted, clearly uncomfortable.

She broke the silence. “Call me Goldie. Could you grab me some coffee? Black, two sugars.”

“Sure thing, ma—Goldie.” Cameron pulled a pen out from behind her ear and scrawled Goldie’s coffee order on her clipboard..

“You know where the craft services tent is?”

“Yes, I passed it on my way here. I’ll be back in a little while.”

“I won’t be going anywhere.” Goldie smiled and took a sip from her water bottle.

Cameron left the trailer without another word.

I’m going to get in trouble with this one . Cameron was exactly her type of woman, down to a tee, and if she wasn’t careful, she was going to get distracted. She was androgynous, masculine in a way that felt fluid and strong behind the professional mask she put up. Between the physical and mental demands of her role and the short time left in filming, Goldie wouldn’t have time to get particularly friendly with her anyway. That was probably for the best. No sense in making friends with somebody she would never see again, so she decided she’d keep it professional.

“Morning, Goldie!” called a voice from the doorway, and she turned to face the hair and makeup crew, who had arrived. “You’re here early.”

They were already in their usual uniform: all-black outfit with an apron to keep brushes and other equipment organized, hair tied back into ponytails, full faces of makeup. There were three today: a redheaded woman and two brunettes. She recognized them all from previous days on set. They were talented women who were incredibly good at their jobs.

“What can I say, girls? Being early is the new being on time. Did you catch last night’s Love Island ?”

She didn’t actually watch Love Island , but she also didn’t like men, and what the crew didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Besides, she liked the hair and makeup crew. They made her feel like a person instead of a ragdoll to throw around on set. As the redheaded woman, Jolene, began to pin up Goldie’s hair, she thought that the best workers on a film set were always the people just off to the side. It was all well and good being in front of the camera and getting paid—if you were getting paid, that is—but the thing about being the famous face was that...well, your face was famous. You really couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized, and everybody around you had to contend with the fact that you were going to get a little more attention than them. Crew on set tended to be levelheaded about it, and the costuming department in particular was the most fun at parties.

Hopefully, Cameron could join their ranks.