Page 5 of Steamy on Set

Chapter 3

Luckyforme,Errol‘I’m an asshole’Davis doesn’t need to interact with wardrobe very often over the next two weeks. When he does, it is mostly just with Mira, which leaves us free to give each other dirty looks without ever exchanging words, our eyes and frowns communicating how we feel about one another just fine.

Ironically though, we’ve impacted each other enough that there is a noticeable difference in our style. He looks a little less like a worn-out hamper, and I angle for more business professional than casual. Still wearing heels, though. They click-clack across the concrete like a soundtrack to my movements.

I can be heard as I make my way over to the newly finished sets, fabric swatches in hand. Mira had asked me to compare the possible outfit prints with the surrounding furniture to make sure there are no clashes.

I’m surprised at how quickly the crew has turned the room into the set of a skyline apartment. The maximalist look of the space speaks to the personality of the lead female character, who is all spitfire and flare. I’m shuffling through the different fabrics in search of the least contradicting one, when I hear other people approaching.

“I’m just saying you should smile more often. It looks good on you,” a high-pitched voice says, followed by the low rumble of a man’s laugh.

“I like instruction. What else should I do, Erica?” It’s Errol.

Their steps get closer and closer, letting me know they are heading my way. Stepping into the makeshift closet, I try to avoid having to see or talk to him.

“It’s surprising that you take instructions.” Her voice is light, bouncy, and loud right near where I’m hiding.

“I don’t mind being told what to do from time to time,” he says.

“Well tonight I might take you up on that.”

I swear my eyes touch the back of my skull as I consider plugging my ears. Talk about professionalism. I thought this was a workplace?

“How about we see how we feel after dinner?”

She agrees, and it soon grows quiet. I tilt my head trying to hear their footsteps. With about as much patience as a five-year-old waiting for recess, I push out of the closet when I think they are gone. To my horror, he is not. Standing there with his hands on his hips, he stares out of the set window like it is real. Our eyes meet, and a blush creeps up my neck as I pretend I have a good excuse for being there.

“What exactly are you doing?” Bypassing a customary greeting, he jumps right into the reason for my sudden appearance.

I smooth out the non-existent lines on my skirt as I try to hold my head in a dignified manner.

“I’m comparing fabric swatches to the set.” I hold them up like they are the evidence to exonerate my weird behavior.

He tilts his head as he takes in the swatches in my hand. A loc falls into the frame of his face, brushing against his pouted full lips. He tucks it back behind his ear before he crosses his arms.

“I wasn’t aware that we would be filming any scenes in the closet.” The dark pools of liquid ink that are his eyes pour into mine as he stares at me head on. Like a pen dipped into their well, I begin to write a story of how this will play out based on this look alone.

“And what exactly were you doing?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“With that woman who works for you, the crew member, what were you doing?” I throw my hair over my shoulder, as one of his eyebrows shoots up into the air.

“First off, she doesn’t work here. Second, how is this any of your business?” His sarcastic smirk reveals a dimple. Not expecting that response, I look for a reason that still puts him in the wrong.

“If she doesn’t work here, then what is she doing on set?”

“Not that I have to explain myself to you, but I invited her.”

“So you’re having dates at work?” I snort. “I thought this wasn’t a place to socialize?”

“And who are you to comment on any of this?”

I go to answer when he cuts me off.

“Wait, don’t tell me, I know. You are the woman who has spent the last two weeks pissing off everyone on set with her complaints. Finding the temperature too cold when we start, andthen too hot during the day. You are the woman who tried to start a petition to change the tea options. Whose obnoxious shoe choices echo across the entire set, disrupting people’s days.

“You are the woman who, on separate occasions, told at least two different people they are rude. You, Farrah, are someone who doesn’t know how to stay in their lane. That includes this. So it’s none of your business what I do.”

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