Page 73 of Until the Sea Runs Dry

Federic turned her chair toward the mirror.

“What’re we thinking? Nothing too fussy, right?” His long slim fingers slipped through her hair, pulling it away from her neck, cleverly creating several styles as she watched.

“You know, I think I’ll just add some volume at the roots, maybe do a waterfall braid to the left of your face. She wants Jessica Alba so we’ll give it to her. Simple, but chic.”

Jane didn’t have a clue what any of it meant, but she nodded, relieved not to have to think about her appearance anymore. It was exhausting, and not particularly interesting. Still, once these photographs were released, there was always the hope that she would be recognized. The lack of contact from Summers was disturbing, though she tried not to think about it too much.

Say what you wanted to about Federic, but the man worked miracles — and fast. In no time, he stood back with his comb to admire her. “Gorgeous!”

It wasn’t even a question as far as he was concerned. Jane had to admit the style was a good choice. The braid showed off her delicate features, enhancing her graceful neck. She was thankful her face hadn’t suffered much, and what marks and bruises there had been, she had already covered up.

“I’m being called to set. Are you ready?” Logan asked, offering a hand to her.

“I’m not staying here?”

“Not when I’m not here, no. You’ll come to set with me. In-between takes, we’ll come back.”

“Oh. OK.” She took his hand, surprised by how easily it was coming to her. She drew from his strength as they stepped out into the world, Loki at their heels.

Immediately, a flood of faces greeted Logan. He was polite with them all, but kept his focus on her. Leaning close, he whispered into her ear. “Just smile. We’ll be there soon.”

Jane attempted to smile, but the sudden onslaught of attention was shocking. Where moments before, no one had paid her the least bit of attention, now the entire world stared.

Some smiled, though several frowned when they saw the woman whose hand he held. Much like Adele had, they looked her up and down, looking almost annoyed that Logan had chosen her.

He gestured at a golf cart. Their young driver stood to attention as they drew close.

“Afternoon, Mr. Steel. Miss. I’m going to be your driver on set today,” he flashed a big grin at Jane, revealing white teeth and dimples. He had an honest way about him that she liked.

“Call me Jane.”

He waited until they were seated before taking off. They drove through the studio, past a sea of crew setting up tall lights and heavy looking cameras until they arrived at a set of an Italian restaurant.

As soon as Logan set foot on the ground, he was whisked away by the scowling 1st AD. Logan said something to him and the man stopped, tossing a look back at her.

“You can watch by the monitors over there,” he gestured to a line of monitors. A group of people were already gathered there, mostly dressed in the casual gear of the film crew, though a few wore suits. “Someone hook her up with sound so she can hear.”

Almost immediately, someone approached with a small electronic pack that had headphones plugged into it. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Jane started to reply, but the sound guy had already gone.

She looked down at Loki. “I guess we’re on our own. Try not to make any sound.”

He scratched his head with a back leg and shook his head. It was only then that Jane noticed that he didn’t have the shoe anymore. He must have left it at the trailer. She looked into her bag and the jumble of toys she had brought with her today to keep him occupied and fished out a rubber bone that they’d never played with. He took it with a big yip of delight.

If anyone thought it odd that she was there — and with a dog, no less — no one said a word.

The suits didn’t bother looking at her, huddled together, discussing the scene ahead… and rather heatedly. Only the woman with a folder jammed full of notes spared a moment to smile at her. Toned, with weathered skin that spoke of a lifetime working in all elements, the only other sign of her advancing age were the gray streaks woven through jet black hair.

“First time?”

“On a film set? Is it that obvious?”

The woman tucked her pen into the top of the folder, which Jane could now see contained the screenplay. “I’m Gayle. Script Supervisor.”

Jane shook the hand that was offered to her. “Jane.”

She knew she should have used the “girlfriend” label, but the word tripped on her tongue.

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