Page 6 of Hollywood Crush (West Wales Romance #2)
Roland grabbed my arm and wheeled me around to face one of the trailers.
“There’s makeup, they’ll want to see you first.” He gave me a gentle shove toward the trailer.
I walked the few steps there myself, but I could already hear him berating Will.
His sudden changes in personality were frightening but nothing I hadn’t seen before with eccentric creatives.
I didn’t like people who hero-worshipped actors and treated their staff like shit but it was an established part of the industry.
The makeup trailer was like a million I’d been in before except for the massive amount of prosthetics on show. There were full face masks and pointy ears, big brow bone additions and hundreds of fake cuts and scars pinned to boards around the room.
“Hi hun, I’ve been waiting for my Elf King to show up,” said the lone artist in there, a lady with peroxide blonde hair of about forty years old. “I’m Stacey. Why don’t you come and sit down and we can chat about where we want to go with the character.”
I sat down nervously in the chair, looking around and wondering which of the many prosthetics I would be forced into.
It was never fun for me to be put in the makeup chair for hours and I tried to avoid jobs with prosthetics for that exact reason.
I was struck again by just how quickly everything had fallen into place.
Thankfully the board that Stacey had brought over to the chair had only two elven ear tips and some long strips of silicon I couldn’t identify. “Cheekbone enhancers, love,” she said as she caught me looking.
Stacey got to work pretty quickly and the process to add the cheekbones on wasn’t half as invasive or annoying as I had feared. It took about half an hour to place, blend and colour the cheekbones and ears.
“Right, so in the books the elves have bright blonde hair and pale skin,” said Stacey as she showed me some concept art of exactly that.
“But with so many extras I wanted to avoid that. So I’ve modelled them after you.
I’ve been arguing with Roland about the eyes, as he thinks they should be practical whereas I’d rather shift it off to VFX to do.
The one thing I’m asking of you is that you shave daily.
I know being scruff is quite on-brand for you, but I’d rather limit the prosthetics. ”
Stacey showed me further concept art of their eyes, which were a deep black. “We’re going to try the contacts, but if they’re too itchy talk to me and we’ll see what we can do.”
“Two secs,” I said. I took out my own contacts and the world got a little bit blurrier. “I’ll remember my glasses next time.”
“These should be OK…” Stacey held my eyes open as she gently pressed the contacts in. “Ah, perfect. I have to admit that they do look good.”
I looked into the mirror and squinted slightly to bring myself into focus.
With just the ears, cheekbones and contacts and a little pale makeup Stacey had transformed me into an otherworldly creature.
I didn’t like not being able to see properly though and felt like my performance might be constrained by the cheekbone prosthetics.
“Are you comfortable with all that?” Stacey asked. Perhaps my concern had been clear on my face.
“Yeah. Sure.” Stacey had obviously done her best to make the application as simple as possible, and I couldn’t blame her for me signing on to a shoot that was always going to involve this kind of makeup.
“So,” I started, “what’s Roland’s thing? How come he’s…well…”
“Such a prick?” Stacey laughed and started to work on my eyes.
“Eyes closed, please. Well you know his type. Men who were given their own TV show and total control way too early, with inflated egos and belief in their own ability. Make no mistake, he’ll work hard on this show.
But I can’t see him being a kind man, except maybe to you and the other stars. ”
“It’s all very quiet isn’t it? Why am I on set so much earlier than everyone else? ”
“Oh, well, you know how it is when someone joins a production late. After the first couple of guys dropped out, and then Andrew Garfield ended up working on that new Tom Cruise film they had to get someone in quick, and it’s hard to find actors available at a few days notice.
Wardrobe and Makeup finished with everyone else weeks ago. ”
Oh . I had been second or third choice for parts before, but Sandra had sold me this show on how I was their choice, without audition. That they wanted me there. It felt a bit of a kick in the teeth to know I was a last minute replacement so far down the pecking order.
“I’m just going to…make a phone call, if that’s OK.”
“Of course. I’ll wait.”
I left the chair with what looked like one eye of makeup done and stepped out into the bracing wind. I called Sandra.
“I’m out,” I said before she could say anything.
“Now, don’t you think you’re being a bit hasty?”
“Nope. You told me they wanted me here. In the arse end of Wales. Now I’m finding out I was way down the list!”
“Does it matter?” Sandra sounded exhausted, like she was lecturing a child.
“Well…” I didn’t know how to articulate to her that I wasn’t happy with coming here in the first place and that now finding out I was so far down the pecking order hurt.
It felt like going to a party af ter being told I was the guest of honour, only to find out they actually wanted me to wait tables.
“Anyway, I have some good news for you, and it requires me to admit that I was wrong which does not happen very often.” Sandra paused for dramatic effect.
I stayed sullenly silent on my end. “I’ve had some calls from news outlets about that film I told you not to do.
Sounds like Siobhan is shopping it round and streamers are very interested in taking it on as an awards magnet. ”
“And?”
“And, that means you become a hot property again. Indie darlings are all the rage. Stick to this show and if it gets renewed for season 2 I can fight to double your wage.”
“At 35? What happened to it being too late and me being washed up?”
“As I said, Daniel. Indie films are all the rage, and older men can be sexy again. They’re calling it the Fassbender effect .
So you sit tight in Wales for a few months a year, phone in your performance as an elf-king or whatever and rake in the cash.
Three seasons and you’ll never have to work again.
You’ll be able to find a house and settle down somewhere nice. ”
“That’s fine. So long as the nice place isn’t fucking Wales .”
◆◆ ◆
By the time I had finished prep for the day I wanted to scream.
Roland had continued to push the buttons of the few advance crew on set and made major alterations to the script I had already tried to start learning.
Filming proper was to start in days and I already felt like the whole set was running on willpower and duct tape.
Set building was to begin the next day and Roland had spent so long arguing with the set designer that they had reached a stalemate by the time I was dismissed at 8pm.
It had been a gruelling day of more makeup tests and very uncomfortable costumes and I wanted nothing more than to head to bed.
The car pulled up to the hotel door. I thanked the driver.
There were several vans parked on the road which meant that the crew had arrived to start setting up.
I’d eaten a stale sandwich on location from the catering vans so had no desire to check out the facilities as they’s been set up here.
There was no way they would compare to what Tudor had made me the night before.
Speaking of the devil, there he was in reception as I stepped over the threshold.
He was shouting instructions over the new bustle of people carrying equipment between rooms. I spotted some filming equipment being pulled through the door he had told me led to staff accommodation and the gym, so guessed he had agreed to store some of the equipment here too.
Despite the hustle and bustle, he still managed to catch my eye over it all.
He pasted on that same smile I had seen the day previous, the one that I could tell covered another layer underneath.
Fine, if he had decided he didn’t like me for some reason, that was fine.
I didn’t care. Wasn’t my business to make him like me.
It was my business to finish filming here and get out.
The worst thing was how good he looked, how assured. Despite my annoyance at him, I wanted him. But it would be stupid and unprofessional of me to try.
“How was your day?” he asked as I passed by the desk.
I gave him my best I can’t be bothered look as I passed. “Fine.”