Posing in Paradise, page 1
POSING IN PARADISE
T.B. MARKINSON
MIRANDA MACLEOD
Posing in Paradise
Copyright © 2024 T. B. Markinson & Miranda MacLeod
Cover Design by Victoria Cooper
Edited by Kelly Hashway
This book is copyrighted and licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any forms or by any means without the prior permission of the copyright owner. The moral rights of the authors have been asserted.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Preview of Take Two
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
CHAPTER ONE
“Where the hell is the brown tweed suit for Alex Franklin’s first scene tomorrow morning?” Gilly demanded the second I stepped foot in the wardrobe trailer. “If there’s one more production delay, Dennis is going to fire the whole lot of us.”
I blinked, adjusting to the dim light in the cramped trailer as the stale air closed in. Fired? With the state of my bank account, that would be catastrophic.
All around me, costumes hung in disarray. Shirts, pants, and dresses dangled crookedly on racks while accessories overflowed from plastic bins onto the floor. The small space was a whirlwind of clutter, a far cry from the orderly haven I strove to maintain.
Though I, as wardrobe supervisor, was the head of the department, Gilly, the costume designer for this production, technically outranked me. She loved to insist that no matter how tight a ship I ran, it could always be better. But, clearly, she’d gone on a tear trying to find the wayward garment with no concern for the chaos she left in her wake. I had little doubt I would be the one staying late to clean it all up.
I took a deep breath, pushing down my rising annoyance as my mind raced to remember where I had last seen the damn thing. “Are you sure it’s not on the second rack behind Alex’s name tag?”
“Don’t you think I already checked there, Captain Obvious?” Gilly rifled through another pile, letting out an exasperated sigh as she came up empty-handed. “This movie is three weeks behind schedule. Way over budget. And everyone at the studio is demanding a blockbuster. Meanwhile, we’re making a black and white rip off of a 1940s classic because our director thinks he’s some sort of artistic genius. We’re doomed.”
“I swear it should be there,” I insisted, trying not to let her negativity get to me. I needed this job too much to contemplate what I would do if the director actually did what Gilly thought he would and gave us all the sack. “I finished the alterations and steam pressed it myself this morning.”
“It isn’t here now.”
On impulse, I grabbed the bag of dirty laundry one of the wardrobe assistants had gathered from the actors’ trailers during the lunch break. I rummaged through it quickly, feeling a flicker of hope as I spied the familiar tweed fabric. “Found it!” I exclaimed, holding up the suit in triumph.
Gilly’s expression went from relief to dismay in an instant. “There’s a stain all the way down the front.”
“You’re joking.” I inspected the suit with a growing sense of dread. Sure enough, a long streak of what looked like bright yellow mustard was smeared down the front of the once immaculate vintage tweed fabric. “What the hell? What kind of idiot eats mustard while in costume?”
Gilly snatched the suit from my hands, inspecting it with a critical eye. “This is exactly what we don’t need right now,” she snapped, her frustration palpable. “Dennis will have our heads for this.”
“Let’s not panic. I know exactly how to get this out.” This was not an empty boast. My parents had owned a dry-cleaning business in my hometown of Waconia, Minnesota since before I was born. Stain removal was in my blood—a substance which, incidentally, could be removed from most garments with a mixture of cold water and table salt. Mustard, on the other hand, required more sophisticated supplies than I kept on hand. “I think our best bet is to bring it back to the studio dry cleaner and have them do a rush job before tomorrow’s call time.”
“No can do. Dennis wants to shoot this scene tonight instead of the morning. We’ll have to pull a different costume and pray he doesn’t notice.” Gilly rummaged through the racks, grabbing a suit that was nearly identical to the ruined one, but at least a full size larger, if not two. “It’s going to need a fitting and some lightning speed alterations, but I think this will work.”
“Should I go get Alex?” Given how hot it was in our poorly ventilated trailer, I would welcome a chance to get fresh air into my lungs.
“She’s on-set right now, filming a different scene.” As she spoke, Gilly gave me the once-over, a sudden gleam in her eye making me want to run for cover. “You two are almost exactly the same size. You even have the same hair color.”
I put a self-conscious hand to my plain brown bob. “A passing resemblance in hair color isn’t exactly going to help us get the hem right.”
“Trust me. I’ve been doing this long enough to know when bodies are the same size and shape. Here—” She thrust the skirt and jacket into my hands. “Put this on so I can start pinning.”
“Here?” There wasn’t enough space in this confined area for an ant to so much as don a tiny top hat, let alone for me to strip down and change clothing.
Gilly’s frown suggested she’d come to the same conclusion. “No. Let’s go to Alex’s trailer.”
“I don’t know…”
It wasn’t like Alex was the star of the film or anything. That honor belonged to the legendary Caroline Jacobs, who’d been my secret Hollywood crush ever since she’d come out as bisexual a few years ago. Not that I’d ever said more than two words to her despite working on this film together for weeks. To be honest, I’d mostly tripped over my own tongue and made a fool of myself in her presence. But Alex was an up-and-coming supporting actor known to have an attitude, and I had no desire to overstep any boundaries with her. I had enough experience with Hollywood to know how fickle the so-called talent could be.
“Come on, Margo. We’re running out of time, and we can’t risk Dennis finding out about this mishap.”
Knowing she was right, I gave in without further protest. We wasted no time in making our way to Alex’s trailer, my heart pounding with nerves as we approached the door. I attempted to express my objection as we entered without knocking, but Gilly remained indifferent to my concerns, engrossed in her phone screen.
“Damn it. I’m being summoned to Video Village.” Her expression fell, and I couldn’t blame her. Video Village was industry speak for the nerve center of the production, where the director, producers, and other key crew members huddled around monitors, dissecting every shot. Being called there without warning usually meant trouble. Had the director somehow had a premonition about the stained suit?
“Should we put this off until you’re done?” I suggested hopefully, eager to get away from a space that was equally as disorganized as our own trailer currently was, with makeup strewn across the small vanity and discarded costumes in piles on the floor.
No wonder the tweed suit had been ruined. Did Alex have no sense of respect for the wardrobe department at all? This type of blatant disregard was one more reason that, as much as I loved my job, I generally detested actors.
That my ex-girlfriend of five years had been an actor and had dumped me for her director the moment she’d found the smallest sliver of fame might have been the main reason, but the slovenly treatment of costumes was a close second.
Gilly shook her head, her eyes darting to the door. “No time for that.” She hastily handed me the clothes. “Put those on and wait for me here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With that, she rushed out of the trailer, leaving me standing alone in the middle of Alex’s space, clutching the costume pieces to my chest.
Fuming, I changed.
With my back to the door, I eyed my transformation in the mirror. Now that it was on my body, the suit wasn’t nearly as big as it had looked on the hanger. After the placement of just a few strategic pins, every curve was accentuated in a way I wasn’t used to but couldn’t deny had an effect that was rather flattering. No wonder the movie stars in the 40s were so damn sexy.
Wandering away from the mirror, I noticed a glint of something shiny on the floor. A misplaced earring, no doubt, which I would’ve spent an eternity searching the wardrobe trailer for if I hadn’t spotted it. Just as I bent to retrieve the object, the trailer door opened. Before I could turn around, a pair of arms had threaded around my waist. The owner’s head buried into my neck, and a gruff voice that was equally likely to belong to a male or a female, whispered, “You l
Startled by the unexpected intimacy, I jerked away. “Uh, you might have the wrong person.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else!” The person whipped around and dashed out the door before I could see who it was.
All I caught as the door slammed shut was a flash of firetruck red and a logo of some sort.
Funny how the costumes for this black and white film were so colorful. It was possible I was in shock.
I was only barely getting my wits back when Gilly burst through the door. “We have to get to the set for Caroline’s last looks. Dennis has her doing the car scene.”
“Caroline’s on set today? I thought a stunt double was doing this scene.”
My cheeks were still burning from the unexpected strange encounter moments earlier, but now the anticipation of coming face-to-face with the legendary star on such short notice added fuel to the flame. Sure, Caroline Jacobs was an actor, and I loathed actors. But she was also a goddess.
Exceptions had to be made for goddesses.
Glancing down, I realized I was still wearing the tweed suit. “Should I change?”
“No time, but you look fantastic. I think we did well.”
In fact, I had been informed I looked good enough to eat. Not that I could tell Gilly that. And not like I was looking for anything remotely physical with anyone.
Not since Jenna.
It had been almost a year since she’d left, and I never wanted to be in a relationship again. Especially not with Hollywood types. The fact of the matter was the kind of fairy tale endings portrayed on the silver screen were nothing but filthy lies.
“No, no, no!” Dennis shouted within moments of our arrival on set. He grabbed the iPad, from which Gilly and I would monitor all the details of the scene, and began tapping furiously on the screen.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“She needs a scarf.” The director gestured to where Caroline Jacobs stood off to one side, her face a mask of frustration as she fumbled with the door of a vintage convertible.
I was momentarily taken aback by her stunning beauty, even at the height of her exasperation. The way the sunlight caught the golden highlights in her hair as she turned her head, the slight furrow of her brow as she struggled with the door handle—it was so captivating I almost forgot where I was.
For a moment, all I could do was gape at her like a lovesick fool. As if by instinct, I took a few steps backward so she wouldn’t see me making an idiot of myself in this way. We hadn’t even been introduced yet.
“A scarf?” Gilly’s disbelieving tone snapped me out of my trance.
“I want it to float behind her as she drives off,” Dennis explained. “It’s a crucial part of the scene.” This last part was called over his shoulder as he marched toward Caroline and the car.
If it was so crucial, why was it only being thought of now? But it wasn’t my place to question, only to procure. I turned to Gilly, silently asking for guidance on how to proceed.
“Do we have a scarf picked out?” I inquired, hopeful for a quick fix.
Gilly shook her head, her brow furrowed. It was obvious she didn’t agree with the director’s vision for the scene but knew better than to say so outright.
“Are we sure about this, Dennis?” I heard Caroline ask. Having let go of the car handle, she fidgeted with her necklace, twisting it so tightly I feared the chain would snap. “This car seems to have a mind of its own. If we add a scarf, it might be too distracting. Is this vehicle even safe to drive?”
Dennis glared at her, his own frustration evident even from several yards away. “Trust me, darling. The scarf will tie everything together, just like we discussed in the script reading. As for safety, my boys on the crew have assured me it’s top-notch.” Dennis offered a reassuring grin that was so false it made my stomach twist.
Caroline opened her mouth, her expression dubious. “I heard—”
“Enough complaining.” Dennis cut her off before she could protest further, storming back toward Gilly and me. “Let’s not waste any more time. Someone get me a scarf. Like yesterday! No one seems to understand that time is money!”
“Go to the trailer and grab every scarf you can find.” Gilly gave me a shove, as if somehow all of this was my fault.
One thing about the vintage outfit I was wearing, it wasn’t conducive to sprinting. Not that I let it stop me. All it took was recalling Gilly saying we’d all get fired to get my feet in motion. I sprinted to the trailer and returned in record time, huffing and puffing with my arms full of scarves.
“I got all that I could see. Although, I don’t recommend this one.” I dropped the objectionable scarf to the ground.
“That’s perfect!” With a squeal of something like delight, which also sounded like a pig had been poked in the ass with a sharp stick, Dennis bent down to retrieve it.
“It’s much too long,” I said, only to be met with the director’s steely eyes.
“Put it on her, now.”
I swallowed hard as a sense of foreboding washed over me. But one look at Dennis’s face told me not to argue, or I would face his wrath. What could I do? I made my way to Caroline, my hands trembling.
She stood beside the convertible, her head angled downward, ignoring my approach completely. Fine by me. The less I interacted with the talent, the better. That included both regular actors and goddesses alike.
As I lifted the scarf to drape it around her neck, holding it at my eye level in a way that obscured my face, Caroline turned her head slightly and let out a naughty giggle.
“You look amazing in that suit,” she said, nearly stopping my heart. “I can’t wait to get you out of it and have my way with you tonight.”
She honest to God growled as she said this, which was sexy as fuck but also highly inappropriate considering she didn’t even know my name. What the hell was going on with everyone on this set?
My arms dropped to my sides. But before I could make up my mind how to respond, realization spread almost instantly across Caroline’s face.
“You’re not you.” Caroline’s voice shook, and her blue eyes were impossibly wide. “I mean, you’re not… never mind. I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else. You must think me such a beast.”
All I could do was laugh in what I hoped wasn’t too maniacal a way. The scarf was still clutched in my hands, and I quickly placed it on her neck as I’d been instructed to do. “Funny thing. You’re the second person to proposition me today since I put on this suit.”
“Who the hell else propositioned you?” Caroline’s demeanor changed instantly from embarrassment to fury. It was so disorienting, I struggled to find the right words to respond.
“I’m not…”
“Who was it?” This time Caroline’s growl didn’t have any trace of a sexy undertone. She sounded more like a rabid dog about to rip my face off. “Whoever it was, they were propositioning my fiancée.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but that didn’t stop me from being terrified. Not knowing what else to do, I scanned all the bodies in the general vicinity, not seeing the firetruck red I’d glimpsed earlier. “I didn’t get a good look. It all happened so quickly, leaving me stunned.”
Not seeming to care about my explanation, Caroline stormed off before I could finish what I’d been about to say. The scarf trailed out behind her, and I had to admit, I could kind of understand Dennis’s vision now that I saw it in action.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Dennis demanded as he chased after his star.
I was far enough away that I couldn’t hear what was being said, but when I saw Caroline stop directly in front of Alex Franklin, I suddenly suspected I inadvertently might have gotten entangled in some sort of on-set love triangle.
Just my luck.
Caroline’s face got redder and redder as she confronted Alex, her hands gesticulating wildly. It appeared to get ugly, with Alex shoving Caroline. Should someone call the cops?
