Page 18 of Romance Is Dead

Most days, I picked up my costume from the wardrobe department with a smile. How lucky I am , I usually thought, that my character lives in easy-fitting jeans and squishy cardigans. No lacy lingerie or skintight leather ensemble s.

That is, until I showed up to my trailer a few hours after our trip to the attic to find that my costume for the day was already waiting for me — and able to fit in a Ziplock bag.

Not even a gallon size, but a quart size.

The baggie had been daintily fixed to the hanger with a clothespin, along with a cheery note from the wardrobe supervisor that read “Let me know if you have any questions! xoxo Julian.” Inside was an ivory-colored thong and two stickers barely the size of half-dollars.

Yeah, Julian, I had some questions.

Before I could change, my phone lit up with a photo of me and my dad, the two of us dressed up as Pennywise and little Georgie with his balloon from It at a horror convention a few years ago. I was Pennywise, naturally.

I answered the call, happy to delay my costume change. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, Squish. I know you were just here, but I didn’t want to mess with tradition.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Ever since he’d moved away from LA, we’d made it a point to talk on the phone every Friday. Sometimes I was busy — or, more often, he was — but we tried to chat for at least a few minutes every week.

“You wouldn’t believe what Daffy did today. She knocked over the garbage can and dug through the bag to get to one tiny chicken wing bone!” He laughed. “That damn skunk. How’s filming?”

I filled him in the best I could without bringing up the thong I was about to change into or the fact that a murderer was on the loose. It didn’t leave much.

“Well hey, I was wondering. . .”

I sucked in a breath, knowing where he was going with this.

“Have you thought about that movie my buddy’s making? No pressure,” he hurried to add. “He’s just excited to hear from you.”

I bit my lip. I wanted to say that I wasn’t going to be in his friend’s movie by default because I was never going to be in any movies again. But that was a conversation for another time, when I didn’t have a thong and pasties staring at me, waiting to be put on.

“I actually haven’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, no problem.” I didn’t miss the hint of disappointment in his voice.

“I’m sorry, it’s just been a little crazy here on set.”

“Don’t worry about it for a second.”

“Ok.” I fiddled with the corner of the plastic baggie. “I should get going. I have to go finish getting ready for this scene.”

“Oop, well don’t let me be the reason you incur the wrath of Natasha. Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

We hung up.

Left in the silence, I stared at my costume, trying to muster the will to put it on.

As if I wasn’t going to be uncomfortable enough in the two square inches of fabric, now I had the guilt of lying to my dad weighing on me and making it even worse.

After five whole minutes, I finally sighed and unclipped the baggie from the hanger.

The scene we’d be filming was in the water, and while I’d been expecting a pretty skimpy bikini, this was on a whole other level.

Feeling more like I was unwrapping a deli sandwich than an outfit, I pulled open the zip top and picked out one of the stickers, studying the peel-off backings.

I knew they were supposed to cover my nipples, but I was not confident they would succeed.

I retreated into the bathroom, even though I had the entire trailer to myself. I needed double the privacy. The thong exceeded my expectations — it was even more uncomfortable than I’d anticipated. But, somewhat surprisingly, the pasties succeeded in covering up everything they were supposed to.

Wardrobe had also provided me with a robe in some attempt to protect my modesty, so I slipped into the swathe of blue satin and stepped into my flip-flops before exiting my trailer.

The scene would be filmed at a different location than usual: a boathouse at a lake nearby.

And honestly, I was thankful to get a break from the usual set.

I couldn’t tell if my nerves were getting the best of me or if it was just an old house, but odd noises had been rippling through set all day, sometimes loud enough to ruin takes.

Footsteps scurrying across the floors above when no one should be up there.

Clanging coming from somewhere deep in the bowels of the house.

Creaks from somewhere up high, maybe the attic.

Or the roof. One particularly loud bang rendered an entire shot unusable, and even Audrey — usually so unflappable — was becoming spooked.

She became so nervous that at one point we had to take a break.

Natasha had taken to loudly counting down from twenty during moments of stress, which I could only assume she’d picked up in therapy at some point.

Maybe a change of scenery would do us all good. Now, climbing into the waiting car, nerves squeezed my stomach for an entirely different reason — the feeling getting steadily worse each second of the ten-minute drive.

Under any other circumstance, the idea of filming a nude scene wouldn’t have phased me.

Not only had I done them before — a topless exorcism scene stood out in particular — but I happened to be comfortable with my body, thank you very much.

I liked the slightly androgynous shape of it, with my small breasts and slim hips.

And even if I wasn’t, the water would cover up everything besides my head and shoulders once the cameras started rolling.

But being that close to Teddy, the two of us nearly naked?

That made me nervous. I was supposed to be suppressing my attraction to him, not finding new ways to fan its flames.

The car crunched along the gravel leading down to the lake.

The scene was idyllic. Docks, boats, a boardwalk; the sun had already dipped below the horizon, rendering the water a dusky violet as crickets chirped in the distance.

Gentle waves lapped at the shore, cattails swaying in the breeze.

It was the picture of a lakeside paradise.

My steps shaky, I exited the car. Cast and crew buzzed around the boathouse, preparing cameras and lights as makeup artists put the finishing touches on the actors.

I scanned the swarms of people, spotting Chloe sitting on a lawn chair, tapping away on her phone.

Brent was off to the side, smoking a cigarette.

And Mara was touching up Audrey’s makeup as a member of wardrobe fixed her special CGI suit, adjusting a few sensors that were out of place.

No Teddy. Not yet. I made my way over to Chloe, waving to get her attention. As she pocketed her phone and got to her feet, I noted — jealously — that her wardrobe for the day was a simple skirt and tee-shirt.

“Hey! You ready for tonight?”

“I guess so.” My hand strayed to the belt of my robe, checking it was still secured. “I just wanted to say thanks. For last night.”

“What do you mean?”

“Getting Mara off my case. About Teddy. I appreciated it.”

“Oh gosh, no problem. I could tell you were uncomfortable.”

“She’s the best, she just gets a little excited when romance is involved. Or,” — I hurried to correct myself — “when she thinks it is.”

“I get it. Who doesn’t get excited at the opportunity to play Millionaire Matchmaker?”

“Exactly.” I laughed, some of the tension easing in my shoulders. On a set that was feeling more dangerous by the day, it was nice to have another ally. “Thanks again. I owe you.”

“Well. . .” Chloe’s voice trailed off. “A bunch of us are going out tonight after we wrap. Want to come?”

Inwardly, I groaned. The day already felt too long; all I wanted to do was retreat to my room and crochet a few rows on my blanket while watching bad reality TV. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on! The Bar is only, like, five minutes away from the hotel. If you have a terrible time, you can pop right back.”

“What’s it called? I’ll Google it.”

“That’s what it’s called. The Bar.” She paused a beat. “I guess there’s only one around here.”

“Maybe . . .”

“You just said you owed me one,” Chloe pointed out.

I sighed in exasperation. “Ok. Alright! I will.”

“Yay! Although, Mara and Teddy will also be there. So if you need me to run interference again, I’d be happy to.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Chloe’s eyes strayed over my shoulder. “Speak of the Devil.”

I followed her gaze and my stomach dropped. Teddy was here, and much like me, he was dressed in a pair of swimming trunks that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. You couldn’t even call them trunks. It bordered on thong territory.

Before I could decide whether I should go say hi, Natasha popped out of the boathouse. “Come on, everyone!” She clapped her hands loudly. “Positions!”

Oh God, here we go.

The interior of the boathouse was dim, with just enough light to illuminate us on camera.

The scene would be dark — so dark that audiences would complain about not being able to see anything.

But it would also be effective, with one of the best jump scares in the whole movie.

A motorboat was secured to the dock, which creaked ominously under our feet.

There were several crew members in the boathouse with us, but when Teddy looked into my eyes, somehow it felt like we were alone.

“After you.” He motioned toward the water.

“That’s rude.” I stared at the dark depths, unable to see below the surface. “What if a lake monster is waiting for me down there?”

“Ladies first,” he insisted.

“If you’re scared, you can just admit it.”

“Never.” Teddy flexed his muscles, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grinned at me in a way that made my stomach flip. I faced the water, ready to sacrifice myself headfirst to the lake monster if it meant I didn’t have to examine that feeling any further.

Instead, I shrugged. “Prove it.”