Читать книгу Blissfully Yours - Velvet Carter - Страница 15

Chapter 7

Barneys New York, the swanky department store on Madison Avenue, was the site of the day’s shoot. The cast was scheduled to come in and comb through the designer racks in search of outfits for their upcoming dates. Viewers loved seeing the ladies buy five-thousand-dollar shoes without blinking an eyelash and adding their names to the waitlist for designer purses that cost as much as a small house in some cities. The producers were adamant about portraying the ritzy world of glitz and glamour, and Barneys, with its multiple floors of designer swag, was the perfect venue.

Brandon was scheduled for a brief meeting with Ed before the cast arrived to discuss blocking for the shoot. The lighting and audio teams had already set up and were waiting patiently for the show to begin. Ed had arrived ahead of Brandon. He was dressed in teal-blue skinny jeans, a yellow silk camp shirt, a pair of pink platform sneakers, a monogrammed Louis Vuitton messenger bag strapped across his chest and his signature chiffon scarf—this one in multicolored shades of teal, yellow and pink. He strutted through the store looking like a designer-clad peacock.

“Hey, Ed, how’s it going?” Brandon said, entering the cordoned-off shoe section the store had reserved for the shoot.

“Other than a little heartburn, I’m good. Guess I shouldn’t have had a second helping of lasagna and tiramisu last night.” His protruding belly was indication of his love for fattening Italian food.

“Why don’t you send the PA to Duane Reade to pick up some Pepto?”

“Good idea.” Ed took his cell phone out of his messenger bag. “Hey, Gabby, can you run to the drugstore and buy a large bottle of Pepto-Bismol? Thanks.”

“Where do you want the first scene to start?” Brandon asked as Ed completed the call.

Ed crossed the room and stood next to a display of designer pumps. “Here is fine. I want the girls to ogle over these beauties.”

“No problem.” Brandon picked up a shoe to inspect it. “Are they serious with these prices?” he asked, holding a red, leather-bottomed pump.

“Those are Louboutins. What do you expect?”

“Lou Who?”

“Christian Louboutin. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him. Everyone is familiar with his signature red bottoms,” Saturday said in a snarky tone as she walked up behind him.

Brandon put the shoe back on the display. “Not everyone is as consumed with material possessions as you ladies seem to be,” he said, looking her dead in the eyes.

For a few moments they stood face-to-face without saying a word. Brandon could feel himself being drawn to her. His eyes scanned her body up and down. She wore a slinky, red, ankle-length dress that fitted her curvaceous body like a second skin. Saturday oozed sensuality, and there was no doubt that he was attracted to her. Brandon shook off the feeling. Although Saturday was beautiful, her personality was offensive and he couldn’t imagine spending his life with such an abrasive woman.

“Whatever.” Saturday twisted her lips, flipped her long wig and turned her back to him. “So, Ed, what’s wrong with you? You look pale as a ghost. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just a little heartburn. Let me sit down until Gabby gets here with the medicine.” He sat in one of the cushy chairs and continued talking. “Now, about today’s shoot, Saturday. I want you and Petra to really go at it. Get in her face and don’t back down until the director says ‘cut.’”

“I don’t have a problem with that, but you need to tell Petra this is your idea. I’m tired of her thinking that I’m always picking on her.”

“I’ll have a chat with her when she gets here.”

As they were talking, Gabby, the production assistant, came in with the pharmacy bag. “Here you go, Ed.”

“Thanks.” He took the medicine out of the bag, opened the bottle and tilted it up to his mouth, guzzling the pink liquid as if it were a refreshing beverage.

“What is that you drink?” Petra asked as she entered the shoe section.

“The word isn’t you, it’s you’re, and it’s drinking, not drink,” Saturday said, ribbing Petra on her broken English.

“I so tired of you teasing about way I talk.”

Saturday started laughing. “You just can’t get your tenses right. Ed, why don’t you get Petra a speech coach?”

“I no need coach. I need you to shut up and leave me alone.” Petra crossed her arms tightly across her chest.

Ed stood up. “Petra, can I speak to you for a minute?”

While Ed and Petra talked near the edge of the room, Brooke and Trista entered the set. Neither woman acknowledged Saturday, but they did glance at her as she sat in a nearby chair holding an iPad in her hands.

“So, Brandon, what’s your story?” Brooke asked, coming closer to him.

“Excuse me?” Brandon asked, taking a step back.

She flipped her golden-blond tresses. “I mean, are you married? Have a girlfriend? Have a boyfriend? What’s your status?” Brooke spoke as if he were required to answer her questions.

“First of all, we’re not friends and my personal life is none of your business, and second, we are all here to do a job, so I suggest you read over today’s notes before we start shooting.”

She moved closer to him, smiled and put her hand on his arm. “Oh, sweetie, I was just trying to make conversation.”

Brandon stepped back, allowing her hand to drop from his arm. “My personal life isn’t up for general conversation,” he said sternly.

Saturday glanced up and smiled, obviously pleased that he had put the snooty flirt in her place.

Brooke huffed, flipped her hair again and strutted away, her charms totally lost on the director. Trista then sat down next to Saturday. “Good morning. How are you?”

“I’m good,” Saturday said without glancing up.

Trista looked over at Saturday’s iPad. “What are you doing? Playing a game?”

Saturday flipped the gadget over. “I don’t like people looking over my shoulder. It’s irritating,” she said, putting the tablet in her purse and standing up.

“Okay, ladies, let’s get started,” Ed announced after his brief meeting with Petra. “Saturday, I want you and Petra over here near the Louboutins, gushing over the shoes and then arguing about who’s going to buy the last pair of silver pumps. Saturday, after about five minutes of verbal sparring, I want you to throw the shoe at Petra, but be careful not to hit her—just make it look deliberate.”

“Why she throw at me? Why I not throw at her?”

“She’ll throw the first shoe, and then you can throw the next one. I want you guys to have a shoe fight.”

This show is such a joke. I can’t wait to get out of here, Brandon thought as he stood there listening to the creator’s stage directions.

“Why not let the action flow organically?” Brandon knew the former director had been fired for being too opinionated. He had been committed to keeping quiet, doing his job, completing the contract and hightailing it back to a major network, but this staging was ridiculous and he couldn’t hold his tongue any longer.

“I know you’re the director, but this is my show, and to keep the ratings high, I want to ensure there’s plenty of drama,” Ed responded.

“Don’t you think there’s enough drama between the ladies without you orchestrating it? Isn’t this supposed to be reality television?” Brandon countered.

“What’s with all the questions? When you came on board, you knew what type of show you were going to be working on,” Ed replied, slightly raising his voice.

“Of course I knew what I was signing up for. However, I don’t think forced conflicts are the way to go.”

Saturday watched the exchange in silence. Outwardly she showed no emotion, but inside she was doing somersaults. Brandon was expressing exactly how she felt. Saturday found herself being drawn to him as he stood his ground against Ed.