Shopaholic to the Stars
Page 68
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“I know he’s not. But still. Wouldn’t it be amazing?” She sighs.
“There’ll probably be an even hotter pirate king in this one,” I point out, as my phone rings. It’s Dad calling, which surprises me. Normally it’s Mum who rings, and then passes me over to Dad, and then instantly grabs the phone back as there’s something she’s forgotten to tell me about Janice’s new sofa covers or the geraniums.
“Dad!” I exclaim. “Guess what Suze and I are doing right now?”
“Drinking orange juice in the sunshine,” says Dad with a laugh. “I hope you are.”
“Wrong! We’re in a limo, going to the film set!”
Mum and Dad already know we’re going to be extras in a movie, because I phoned them up straightaway to tell them. And Janice and Martin. And Jess and Tom, and my old bank manager Derek Smeath …
I suppose I did phone quite a few people, now that I think about it.
“Wonderful, darling!” says Dad. “Make sure you hobnob with the movie stars.”
“We will!”
“I was just wondering, did you ever manage to look up my old friend Brent?”
Oh. Damn. What with Golden Peace, and Suze arriving, it completely slipped my mind.
“Not yet,” I say guiltily. “I haven’t quite had time. But I will, I promise.”
“Well, that would be marvelous.”
“I’ll go and see him really soon, and I’ll give him all your details.” We’ve arrived at a barricaded entrance to a large complex with buildings and courtyards, and as the driver slows down, I see a row of trailers out of the window. Real film trailers!
“We’re here! There are trailers!” I say in excitement. “Oh, Dad, you should see it!”
“Sounds fantastic,” says Dad. “Well, you let me know about Brent.”
“I will,” I say, only half paying attention. “See you, Dad.”
The driver is giving our names to the gate man. As Suze and I stare out of the window, agog, I see a man in a pirate costume walk to one of the trailers, knock on the door, and go inside.
“Oh my God,” says Suze.
“I know!” I can’t help giggling.
As we’re whisked into the complex, my head is swiveling this way and that, trying to take in every detail. It’s all just as I imagined. There are girls with earpieces and clipboards. There’s a guy carrying what looks like a marble statue under his arm. There’s a woman in a crinoline, talking to a man in a leather jacket.
“I’m nervous,” says Suze suddenly. “What if I’m crap?”
“Nervous?” I say in astonishment. “Suze, you’ll be great!” The car stops and I squeeze her arm encouragingly. “Come on, let’s go and find some coffee. You know, the main thing about being in a film is the catering.”
I’m so right about the catering. After wandering about for a few minutes, we find this great big table marked CRAFT SERVICE and covered with a fabulous array of coffee, tea, biscuits, cupcakes, and even little sushi rolls. As I’m eating my third cherry-almond cookie, a guy in a headset comes up, looking a little hassled.
“Are you Lady Cleath-Stuart?”
“Here,” says Suze, her mouth full of muffin.
“I’m Dino, the second AD. You were supposed to meet me out front.”
“Oh, sorry. We wanted some coffee.” Suze beams at him. “This hazelnut latte is delicious!”
“Oh. Great.” He mutters something into a tiny walkie-talkie, then looks up again. “Well, let me take you to meet Don. He’s our publicist, and he’ll be looking after you today.”
Don is very dapper and has the strangest cheekbones I’ve ever seen. What has gone on with those? Has he had them filled? Or has he had his cheek fat sucked out? Either way, it hasn’t been a success, not that I’m going to mention this or stare at his face. Much. He ushers us into a massive warehouse-like space and lowers his voice as we pick our way over wires and cables.
“Lady Cleath-Stuart,” he says with reverence, “we’re delighted to welcome you to the set of The Black Flag. We want today to be as enjoyable and interesting for you as possible. Please, follow me. We thought you’d like to see the set before we take you to wardrobe.”
Suze is totally a VIP! This is so great! We both hurry after him, dodging past some guys carrying a fake stone wall made out of wood. We head toward a cluster of director’s chairs and a monitor and lots of people with headphones and serious expressions.
“That’s what we call ‘video village,’ ” Don says in an undertone. “This is where the director watches the action. Please make sure your phones are switched off. I think we’re about to have a take.”
“There’ll probably be an even hotter pirate king in this one,” I point out, as my phone rings. It’s Dad calling, which surprises me. Normally it’s Mum who rings, and then passes me over to Dad, and then instantly grabs the phone back as there’s something she’s forgotten to tell me about Janice’s new sofa covers or the geraniums.
“Dad!” I exclaim. “Guess what Suze and I are doing right now?”
“Drinking orange juice in the sunshine,” says Dad with a laugh. “I hope you are.”
“Wrong! We’re in a limo, going to the film set!”
Mum and Dad already know we’re going to be extras in a movie, because I phoned them up straightaway to tell them. And Janice and Martin. And Jess and Tom, and my old bank manager Derek Smeath …
I suppose I did phone quite a few people, now that I think about it.
“Wonderful, darling!” says Dad. “Make sure you hobnob with the movie stars.”
“We will!”
“I was just wondering, did you ever manage to look up my old friend Brent?”
Oh. Damn. What with Golden Peace, and Suze arriving, it completely slipped my mind.
“Not yet,” I say guiltily. “I haven’t quite had time. But I will, I promise.”
“Well, that would be marvelous.”
“I’ll go and see him really soon, and I’ll give him all your details.” We’ve arrived at a barricaded entrance to a large complex with buildings and courtyards, and as the driver slows down, I see a row of trailers out of the window. Real film trailers!
“We’re here! There are trailers!” I say in excitement. “Oh, Dad, you should see it!”
“Sounds fantastic,” says Dad. “Well, you let me know about Brent.”
“I will,” I say, only half paying attention. “See you, Dad.”
The driver is giving our names to the gate man. As Suze and I stare out of the window, agog, I see a man in a pirate costume walk to one of the trailers, knock on the door, and go inside.
“Oh my God,” says Suze.
“I know!” I can’t help giggling.
As we’re whisked into the complex, my head is swiveling this way and that, trying to take in every detail. It’s all just as I imagined. There are girls with earpieces and clipboards. There’s a guy carrying what looks like a marble statue under his arm. There’s a woman in a crinoline, talking to a man in a leather jacket.
“I’m nervous,” says Suze suddenly. “What if I’m crap?”
“Nervous?” I say in astonishment. “Suze, you’ll be great!” The car stops and I squeeze her arm encouragingly. “Come on, let’s go and find some coffee. You know, the main thing about being in a film is the catering.”
I’m so right about the catering. After wandering about for a few minutes, we find this great big table marked CRAFT SERVICE and covered with a fabulous array of coffee, tea, biscuits, cupcakes, and even little sushi rolls. As I’m eating my third cherry-almond cookie, a guy in a headset comes up, looking a little hassled.
“Are you Lady Cleath-Stuart?”
“Here,” says Suze, her mouth full of muffin.
“I’m Dino, the second AD. You were supposed to meet me out front.”
“Oh, sorry. We wanted some coffee.” Suze beams at him. “This hazelnut latte is delicious!”
“Oh. Great.” He mutters something into a tiny walkie-talkie, then looks up again. “Well, let me take you to meet Don. He’s our publicist, and he’ll be looking after you today.”
Don is very dapper and has the strangest cheekbones I’ve ever seen. What has gone on with those? Has he had them filled? Or has he had his cheek fat sucked out? Either way, it hasn’t been a success, not that I’m going to mention this or stare at his face. Much. He ushers us into a massive warehouse-like space and lowers his voice as we pick our way over wires and cables.
“Lady Cleath-Stuart,” he says with reverence, “we’re delighted to welcome you to the set of The Black Flag. We want today to be as enjoyable and interesting for you as possible. Please, follow me. We thought you’d like to see the set before we take you to wardrobe.”
Suze is totally a VIP! This is so great! We both hurry after him, dodging past some guys carrying a fake stone wall made out of wood. We head toward a cluster of director’s chairs and a monitor and lots of people with headphones and serious expressions.
“That’s what we call ‘video village,’ ” Don says in an undertone. “This is where the director watches the action. Please make sure your phones are switched off. I think we’re about to have a take.”
