Sugar Baby Beautiful(40)

“Mr. Darcy.” A young, meek-looking man with pink-shaded sunglasses and unruly hair came out of the house and walked quickly forward with his hand outstretched. Theo didn’t shake it though, the asshole.

“Are they still being difficult?” he asked in a tone so cold the man looked like he was going to piss himself.

He dropped his hand, sighing deeply. “We’ve shot most of the other scenes already—”

“Tell them to go home. They’ve been recast,” Theo replied with his hands in his pockets, looking around the grounds. “Where is hair and makeup?”

“Of course, sir, but recast? With who?” The man followed beside him as he walked. I tried not to laugh, but between the height difference and the way the man acted, eagerly awaiting command, he kind of reminded me of Dobby from Harry Potter.

“Me,” he replied, and he stopped to observe me.

“Theo—”

“And her.”

For the first time, the man noticed me standing shocked and confused a few feet away.

“Yes, I can see it.” The man nodded, looking me over.

Theo snapped his fingers in front of him. “I’m still waiting for hair and makeup.”

“Of course—”

“Whoa.” I held my hands up as if that would stop them in order to ask, “Can someone fill me in on what is going on right now please?”

“Go,” Theo said to man and then focused on me. “We’re going to be in a movie.”

“I didn’t sign up for that! I can’t even act—”

“I’m hoping, only hoping, this will humble two of the actors a little. They seem to hate each other and are refusing to work together. If they believe they are both being replaced, then maybe they will get over it,” he said. It was a good plan with the exception of me.

“Still, Theo, I’m not sure I would—”

“You get to fight with me. I think there are even a few slap scenes. How did I know you would be pleased about that?” He grinned, shaking his head at me.

Without even realizing it, a grin spread across my face. Damn it. Trying my best to retain some composure, I stepped up. “Well… I mean if you absolutely need my help, how can I possibly say no?”

He leaned in and whispered, “I would if my face was going to be as red as your ass will be this afternoon.”

“Mr. Darcy, here they are!” the man yelled, coming back to us with people behind him. Theo turned, standing at my side.

“Ladies and gentlemen, as I’m sure Mr. Hamilton has told you, Ms. Felicity Harper and I will be taking over the roles of Mr. and Mrs. Beauchamp.”

Mrs. Beauchamp?

“Please follow them, Ms. Harper. We’ll get you your lines.” The man I guessed was Mr. Hamilton pointed to the crew.

I smiled, even though my nerves were now getting the best of me. They led me into a trailer. The whole thing was filled with clothing that looked like it came from the 1940s or ’50s. It was a lot bigger than I thought they would be.

“What are your measurements?”

Do people just know that off the top of their heads? “I don’t know. I’m usually between a four and six.”

She looked me over for a second and took a tape measure. “Can you lift your arms? Okay, thank you. I’m not sure what will fit, but we’ll make it work. I’ll send Charlie in to work on your hair while I alter some of the dresses.”

Say what now? She made it seem like it was my body that was the problem. She opened the door and said, “She’s all yours.”

“Hi.” The woman with short blue hair and a camera around her neck walked in. “I’m Charlie. I’ll be doing your hair and makeup. Oh my gosh, it’s so pretty. I love that it’s so long. I can do so much to it and not use a wig.”

She was already at the vanity, pulling out a chair for me. Taking off her camera, she began pulling curling irons from her bag.

“Can we have some ground rules? Like please don’t cut or dye my hair?”

She laughed. “I promise we’ll return you to your natural state once we’re done. Sit. The director asked me to bring this, first scene for you.”

The script was huge.

I was supposed to memorize this before going in there?

“So, what else have you acted in?” she asked. I felt like she needed to buy me dinner first, with way she was running her hands through my hair.

“Nothing.” I sighed as I lifted the script.

“How did you end up here?”

“I keep asking myself that same thing.”

Oh, I was going to hit Theo so hard for this.



7:22 p.m.

I looked like a vintage Stepford Wife.

I wore a bright yellow dress with a cinched waist. My hair had been curled and put up into a pin-up styled bun, and my makeup… I couldn’t even go there right now. All I needed was a broomstick, and I would have looked like one of those ridiculous posters from the ’50s, trying to con women into thinking how glamorous domestic housework was.