She’d been watching him for weeks now. There was no way around it; he was like a magnet. She watched him now.
His arms were around a slender brunette, his face scant inches from hers. They seemed oblivious to the world around them.
She could hear them breathing, it was almost labored with their passion.
“I can’t imagine my life without you, Scott. You make my life… you make my life… uh… you make my life…” the brunette began.
“CUT!” yelled the director. The edge in his voice cut through Ginger like a knife. She shivered, almost dropping the plate of canapés she was carrying.
As Ginger moved behind the table of snacks that she’d been arranging throughout the day as food items disappeared, she watched the scene unfolding around her. Grips and techs of all kinds dodged cables, monitors, and various other people as they scrambled to reset everything to re-shoot the scene. The cinematographer began consulting with the key grip about the lighting, and the assistant director scurried toward the director to try and calm him.
The flurry of activity in the dark, dirty warehouse they were shooting in was a sharp contrast to the beautiful bedroom set up before the cameras. The king sized mahogany bed was covered in silky looking linens, the bedside lamps glowing ever so slightly. The thick plush carpet beneath the bed made Ginger want to roll around naked on it. However, the scene in the bedroom was not so mild at this point.
“Serena, darling,” began the director in a tone that fell somewhere between hysteria and placating, “I know this is all very stressful for you, but I really need to finish this scene. We’re almost through here, sweetie. Please… just try!” He reeled toward the actor who’d been embracing Serena. He was standing apart from Serena, an amused look on his face. “And you, Luke, it would help if you were a little more supportive.”
Luke never flinched. “You, know, Roy… I’m doing my job. I didn’t know that on top of acting for this role, I’d have to coddle your lead actress and hold her hand through her simple lines. I mean, ‘you make my life complete?’ It’s not rocket science.”
Ginger watched as Serena threw her hands over her eyes and gave out a half-shriek, half-sob.
“Oh, God. Now we won’t be finished until tomorrow.” Luke intoned.
Ginger knew it was true. Because of Serena’s hysterics, shooting had been delayed for three weeks. She was looking forward to leaving the drama filled set. Luke St. John and Serena James were married. When the shoot for Butterfly Room had begun, the couple had been happy, borderline sugar shock.
Ginger had looked forward to joining the crew as their caterer and had signed her catering company on quickly, opting out of the new Mark Leight flick. Though the pay might have been a little more because the shoot would have been longer, he was notoriously difficult and demanding of his crew. Roy Brunell was easygoing, friendly, and talented. He was also known for shoots that started late in the morning and ran to all hours of the night, which was fine by Ginger.
However, about six weeks before shooting was to wrap, Luke had discovered his darling wife in the arms of a young production assistant in her dressing room. The same production assistant who’d been their pool boy. All hell had broken loose. Not only had things been tense between the principle actors, the set had been plagued with little disasters like props breaking, orders coming in late, and people falling ill.
Ginger sighed. She began to arrange the canapés. She and her staff were usually some of the last crew members to leave because Ginger demanded that the rest of the crew stay fed while they packed up. It was going to be an early night, thanks to Serena, but that meant it would probably be an early morning tomorrow.
“What’s with the sigh?” came a gruff voice, laden with a Scottish brogue. Ginger knew who it was, but was afraid to look. She followed the speaker’s hand as he plucked up an apple from a tray. She watched him polish it on his soft-looking shirt. She followed the shiny, red fruit to his mouth. It was Luke’s mouth.
His face looked strange up close. The make up caked in his face was sweating off a little near his hairline. His dark eyes seemed black and far away. He chewed the apple, a half smile on his oddly bronzed face. His accent didn’t suit him when he was in make up. He dropped his real voice and adopted a generic All-American accent for film work.
“Just a little tired, I guess.” Ginger managed. She wasn’t star-struck, exactly. She’d been around hundreds of famous actors and actresses in the four years she’d been catering movie sets. She was just surprised. She’d noticed that Luke often disappeared after his scenes recently. He also usually took a private meal in his trailer, or went out to some low-key, high-priced Los Angeles restaurant.
“Yeah, tell me about it. But, I’m a night owl, so I won’t be asleep until two in the morning anyway.”
Ginger must’ve made a face, because Luke chuckled then. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Ginger?”
She recovered, quickly, with a professional smile. “No, sir. I was just thinking about how hot it is on this set. Most sets are air conditioner.”
“Say that again, if you would.” he asked.
“Air conditioner?” Ginger asked.
“No… sir.”
“Sir?” Ginger repeated. Luke smiled, and then laughed as Ginger made another face.
