I laugh, a smile banishing the lingering ghosts of my past. The absence of my family will always ache, but if I’d stayed home, I never would have met Haley.
“Absolutely,” I say. “If you want me to dress up, I’ll dress up.”
“Oh em gee, we need another cast party, STAT!”
Once Haley’s makeup is done, it’s my turn in the chair. I get Haley reminiscing about uni so I can sit back and listen as Sharon gives me a fresh shave. A special elastic adhesive binds thin molded silicone to my skin, creating the texture of a jagged gash along Melinoë’s face. Sharon blends the edges with foundation, applies a complex series of colors to mimic a real injury, and tops it off with a crimson dye that will dry like blood.
She spins me back toward the mirror. “Ta-da!” With Haley and me sitting side-by-side, it’s an eerie match. The identical faux-injuries blur the already subtle differences in our facial structure.
“You sure you don’t want this to be the red carpet look?” I tease.
Haley gasps, excited. “Stop, wait… could we like… match at the premiere?!”
“Saves me having to pick an outfit, so I don’t see why not. Also, did you just hear yourself?”
Haley blinks. “What?”
“You didn’t hedge about the premiere. I’m proud of you.”
Haley blushes under her makeup and musters a bashful smile. She flips her hair over her shoulder. “I guess I’m getting used to being a star.” She manages a smug look for about two seconds before devolving into nervous giggles again.
Sharon checks the clock, then hands us each our costumes from the clothing rack in the corner. “Alright, time for you two to get suited up.”
The dynamicin a soundstage is totally different from being out on location. Everything’s more compartmentalized, more precise: a thousand gears in a small space that have to mesh perfectly.
I’m on standby for the morning as Haley films a series of scenes with Melinoë and her underlings. I step in occasionally to throw a punch or take a fall, and otherwise sit with Sharon and Keysha at the monitors for the hair and makeup team.
Between takes, Keysha calls to Haley, “Hair over your left shoulder, love!”
Haley gives a hurried nod, resetting her hair into the right place for continuity in the scene.
There’s enough to distract me from the uncomfortable warmth in the first part of the day, but as the lights slowly increase the building’s internal temperature, sweat beads along my skin.
Right before lunch, we film a scene where Melinoë rolls out from a billowing plume of smoke. It’s another Texas Switch where I roll in and stay low, then Haley pops into frame.
We block it out, practice a few times, and then we’re ready to go. Bella oversees the effects team as they prep the smoke machines, and we all take our marks.
Lana calls action, and the fog machines hiss. I wait for a signal from Bella. When the smoke is at the perfect height, I charge forward and roll, making sure it’s a smooth, acrobatic maneuver fitting for Melinoë.
I stop in a crouch right next to where Haley kneels, and she rises into a ready stance.
“Cut!” Lana calls. “Let’s do that again; I like it. Haley, give me a little more oomph when you pop up.”
“Got it.”
I expect to have some time to kill while we wait for the smoke to dissipate. But with a low rumble, an air exchange system kicks in, sucking the smoke upwards toward the ceiling and drawing a breeze past us. In under a minute, the air is totally cleared, and we’re ready for the next take.
Haley and I watch in awe.
“Bloody brilliant,” Haley whispers.
I nod. “Oh, that’sslick… Guess that’s what makes this place state-of-the-art.”
Bella calls marks, and we’re into the next take.
Then the next. And the next.
Smoke effects are fickle and unpredictable, and now that Lana doesn’t have as much of a time constraint, she’s beingveryperfectionistic about it. One take is too wispy. The next is too billowy. The third is perfect except a thin spot in the smoke made me visible too early. And so on.
