Page 39 of Romance Is Dead

“You and Brent?” Teddy crossed his arms across his chest as his face lit up in delight. “And what was that like?”

“Not great.”

“Really? Because judging by his beer preference he seems like a really cultured, interesting guy.”

“Can we focus on what’s important, please? This is proof he was up here. He could have been the person Scott saw shortly before Trevor was murdered.”

I walked over to the window. The props trailer was obscured by some tree branches, but it would definitely be possible to see who was coming and going.

Chills crept up my spine. Brent could have been sitting up here, watching, until Trevor left—giving Brent the perfect opportunity to follow him and push him into the ditch, adrenaline spiking as he rushed after his victim. It was easy to imagine him forgetting his trash and belongings.

Suddenly, I didn’t want to be holding the hoodie anymore.

Chapter Thirteen

Most days, I picked up my costume from the wardrobe department with a smile.How lucky I am, I usually thought,that my character lives in easy-fitting jeans and squishy cardigans. No lacy lingerie or skintight leather ensembles.

That is, until I showed up to my trailer a few hours after our trip to the attic to find that my costume for the day was already waiting for me—and able to fit in a Ziplock bag. Not even a gallon size, but a quart size. The baggie had been daintily fixed to the hanger with a clothespin, along with a cheery note from the wardrobe supervisor that read “Let me know if you have any questions! xoxo Julian.” Inside was an ivory-colored thong and two stickers barely the size of half-dollars.

Yeah, Julian, I had some questions.

Before I could change, my phone lit up with a photo of me and my dad, the two of us dressed up as Pennywise and little Georgie with his balloon fromItat a horror convention a few years ago. I was Pennywise, naturally.

I answered the call, happy to delay my costume change. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, Squish. I know you were just here, but I didn’t want to mess with tradition.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Ever since he’d moved away from LA, we’d made it a point to talk on the phone every Friday. Sometimes I was busy—or, more often, he was—but we tried to chat for at least a few minutes every week.

“You wouldn’t believe what Daffy did today. She knocked over the garbage can and dug through the bag to get to one tiny chicken wing bone!” He laughed. “That damn skunk. How’s filming?”

I filled him in the best I could without bringing up the thong I was about to change into or the fact that a murderer was on the loose. It didn’t leave much.

“Well hey, I was wondering. . .”

I sucked in a breath, knowing where he was going with this.

“Have you thought about that movie my buddy’s making? No pressure,” he hurried to add. “He’s just excited to hear from you.”

I bit my lip. I wanted to say that I wasn’t going to be in his friend’s movie by default because I was never going to be in any movies again. But that was a conversation for another time, when I didn’t have a thong and pasties staring at me, waiting to be put on.

“I actually haven’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, no problem.” I didn’t miss the hint of disappointment in his voice.

“I’m sorry, it’s just been a little crazy here on set.”

“Don’t worry about it for a second.”

“Ok.” I fiddled with the corner of the plastic baggie. “I should get going. I have to go finish getting ready for this scene.”

“Oop, well don’t let me be the reason you incur the wrath of Natasha. Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

We hung up.

Left in the silence, I stared at my costume, trying to muster the will to put it on. As if I wasn’t going to be uncomfortable enough in the two square inches of fabric, now I had the guilt of lying to my dad weighing on me and making it even worse. After five whole minutes, I finally sighed and unclipped the baggie from the hanger. The scene we’d be filming was in the water, and while I’d been expecting a pretty skimpy bikini, this was on a whole other level. Feeling more like I was unwrapping a deli sandwich than an outfit, I pulled open the zip top and picked out one of the stickers, studying the peel-off backings. I knew they were supposed to cover my nipples, but I was not confident they would succeed.

---