Page 29 of Catch Me (Townsend Legacy #4)

I vy

“Holy shit! Did you see that?” Lillian blurts out as we enter the closet. “I’ve got goosebumps from watching Andreas out there.”

I hold out my arm, displaying my goosebumps. “You’re not alone. That was incredible,” I say in awe of Andreas’ performance.

Once the director called ‘cut’ I wanted so badly to run up to him, throw my arms around him, and tell him what an amazing job he just did.

But I couldn’t.

“I knew he was a good actor,” Lillian continues. “Even on that teen series, he often had some killer scenes.”

I nod in agreement. There are a few blog posts or reviews I’ve read about how Andreas turned a role which could’ve easily been a typical, teen throw away role and turned it into one of the more iconic roles of the past few years for a younger generation.

“But I wasn’t expecting what we just saw,” Lillian says. “I mean, you might be too young to know what I’m referring to, but he reminds me of a young Leonard DiCaprio. Not in looks, Andreas is more handsome in my opinion. But in range.”

“He’s amazing,” I say, still in awe of the performance we just watched.

“Honestly, I’ve been on a lot of sets, and I don’t say this lightly, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this film puts him in the running for an academy award.”

I gasp. “You think so?”

Lillian nods. “I’m not a critic myself but I’ve been around for a while. But just don’t say that out loud. It’s bad luck to bring that sort of thing up even before the movie is finished filming.”

I make a mock zipping motion over my lips which makes Lillian laugh. Since it’s bad luck, I won’t press the subject of Academy Awards any further, but I can’t stop myself from picturing Andreas stepping on stage to accept such a prestigious award.

The idea of him in a tux with a bright smile on his face and a golden statue in his hands sends a chill down my spine.

In my mind’s eye I do a quick sketch of him in a tux. My fingers itch to make something for him. A shirt that I purchased this past weekend from a vintage clothing store pops into my mind.

“We should …” Lillian ’s voice trails off as she looks at something over my shoulder.

I spin to face whoever’s behind me and my heart sinks.

“Ivy, can I speak with you?” Rebecca phrased it as a question, but she spins on her six-inch heels before the words finish leaving her mouth. Obviously, my boss expects me to follow her, no questions asked.

I glance back at Lillian who gives me a shrug, indicating she has no idea what’s going on. An encouraging smile crosses her face as she juts her head for me to follow behind Rebecca.

“We were just about to pull out the clothes for today’s extras and?—”

Rebecca comes to an abrupt stop outside of the back door of the set.

A few members from the crew enter in and out, carrying lights or other props for filming. Rebecca pauses, waiting until it’s just the two of us.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

My heartbeat gallops as I take in her harsh tone. A myriad of possibilities run through my head as I try to imagine what she’s referring to. Unfortunately, I land on the one topic that makes my heart fall to my knees.

Andreas.

She’s warned me once already to stay away from him.

I tried to keep my distance, but even with my attempts, we could’ve been way more discreet over the past couple of weeks.

Better yet, you should’ve stayed completely away from him like your boss told you to. That’s your problem, Ivy. You’re so reckless. Just like ? —

“Well?” Rebecca’s question cuts off my mother’s rant.

“Actually, I … well, there is no explanation.”

“You bet there isn’t. I told you, you’re new in this industry, didn’t I? You think you’re the only one who wanted this position? There are hundreds, if not thousands, of other candidates lined up for this job. And most of them have their degree.”

I step back, away from her, hating the way her words feel like a slap across the face. Especially since they’re so damn close to what I know my mother would say.

“I—”

“Do you really think you were the only person qualified enough to make those costume changes? Did it even occur to you to consult me before you took it upon yourself to make the alterations?”

“I’m sorry, alterations?”

“Yes. I heard what you did the other day. The changes you made to the actor’s clothing last week. What the hell gives you the right to do such a thing?”

Her voice borders on irate.

Still, relief washes over me. She’s not talking about my and Andreas’ relationship.

“The director was having trouble with the lights reflecting off of the belt and the sizing of the clothing. The changes needed to be made,” I defend.

“So get a new damn belt. Don’t change the entire costume. I created those designs specifically for that scene.”

And they clashed with the scene.

I barely hold the words in, but I do. The fact of the matter is, though, that the design didn’t match what the scene needed.

“Changes needed to be made, and Michael was?—”

“Michael? So you’re on a first name basis with director Michael Keith now?”

I pause, taking a deep breath.

“Mr. Keith was upset that the clothes were getting in the way of the scene. And the clock was ticking. He needed to finish the scene to keep on schedule, so I made a quick decision. Since you weren’t here to consult?—”

“Excuse me? Are you blaming me for not being here? Are you accusing me of slacking off?”

“No,” I answer honestly. “I know it’s abnormal for the assistant of costume design to be on set everyday. I’m not blaming you at all. What I’m doing is explaining why I made those changes.

“The director needed something different for the designs, and as your assistant, I chose to make the alterations in your stead. Why? Did Mr. Keith have a problem with the changes?”

He seemed satisfied with the new outfit we put the actor in. At the very least, he didn’t have any more complaints. Which he’s been clear about expressing his misgivings in the past.

Rebecca narrows her eyes.

Apparently, something I just said angered her.

“The point is, you don’t make changes without consulting me. You are my assistant, not the other way around. You’ve only been here a couple of months. You still have two more weeks in your probationary period.

“I wouldn’t piss me off between now and then.”

I stifle the retort that rises in me to tell her. She’s right. I’m in too much of a tenuous situation to get on her bad side. Or, even more on her bad side.

“There won’t be any more changes without consulting you first,” I assure her.

She stares at me for another beat.

“Fine, that’s it for now, but I would keep my nose clean if I were you,” she warns before pivoting on her heels and walking away.

I glare at her. For the life of me I can’t figure out what it is that I did to piss that woman off so much. From the outset she’s turned her nose up at me.

No, I didn’t finish my degree in fashion design, but if she had so much of a problem with that, why even hire me in the first place?

I shake off those thoughts and questions. From past experience I know asking questions like that is a waste of time.

For too many years, I asked the same type of questions about my own parents. Why did it seem like they barely loved me, let alone liked me? What did I do to make them despise me?

Dr. King was the first person who told me that my parents’ issues are their own and not mine.

Though somewhat comforting to hear, her words didn’t completely fill the void in me left by the hole of having emotionally distant parents.

“Ivy, there you are,” Lillian says, emerging from the back door. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s great,” I answer.

She squints. “Are you lying to me?”

I wrap my arm around hers. “Would you believe me if I said Rebecca just wanted to see me so she could offer me a raise?”

“Hell no,” Lillian replies, and we both burst out laughing.

“It’s nothing,” I tell her. “We’ve got work to do, and then I need your help with something.”

She lifts an eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you once we’re done with work for the day. Let’s go.”