Fame ***

“I saw your episode of Ellen,” an increasingly-familiar male voice voiced, his tone shy and wary, like he was unsure whether he should talk to me or not. “It was really funny. You were sweet.”

I opened my eyes as the stylist behind me continued to yank on my long hair, trying her hardest to get the ends to curl just perfectly, to see my co-star, James Rogers, standing there, his hands in his pockets, looking ever-so-handsome.

“Thanks,” I replied with a smile. It flashed through my mind for a second about how I told Ellen that I thought he was a very kind and very beautiful, and I knew he must have been flattered. Not that I could go for him or anything, considering Niall was supposed to be the one “caught cheating”, not me. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

James took my words as an opportunity to pull up a chair and start chatting with me while I waited for my hair to get styled. He probably had felt alone and awkward in the studio, considering he was brand new to the business and wasn’t used to the way everyone sat around, waiting for their scenes to start filming. He’d only been in one movie before, and it had been a TV movie for Lifetime, so they’d rushed production like crazy.

“I noticed that you called me James on Ellen’s show,” he voiced, continuing the conversation starter. “But you can just call me Jem, if you want. James just seems incredibly formal.”

I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. “Jem it is, then. I’m still just Lilah.”

He snickered a little and shifted his position so the stylist could get by and grab the hairspray. “So how are holding up?” When I turned and cocked an eyebrow at him, he continued, “With the long-distance relationship with Niall.”

“Oh,” I mouthed, smiling for a second. “You know, it’s day by day. We didn’t get to know each other that well when he went away, so it gets a little awkward, but hopefully, he’ll be back here soon for his tour.”

“I heard they were shooting a music video here in less than a month,” Jem spoke up, quickly coughing to hide his embarrassment. “Not that I’m a fan or anything.”

“Of course not,” I scoffed, grinning at him. “I’ll have to ask Niall later if that’s true. And if they do, I can introduce you, if you like.”

His light green eyes lit up like little stars, and the corners of his full mouth twitched as he struggled to keep from breaking out into a goofy grin. “That’d be cool, I guess. You know, just to know a little more about my co-star and so your boyfriend can meet the guy you’ll be making out with at work.”

I let out a small chuckle and nodded. “Yes, exactly.”

“Okay, you’re all set. Wardrobe’s ready for you,” the stylist instructed, setting her instruments back down on the vanity in front of me.

I got up and smoothed down the sundress I’d worn that day, making sure it wasn’t folded up and showing off my expensive underwear. Jem stood up, too, being as fast as he could to put the chair he’d been using back in its place and scurrying after me into the hallway.

“I have to say,” he explained nonchalantly, drowning out the sounds of our shoes padding against the tile floor as we made our way toward the wardrobe department, “I thought you were one of those stars that are obsessed with themselves. I heard that from a couple of different people, and I was really scared to work with you because I thought you’d be a major bitch. But you’re actually really nice.”

I wondered what he would have said about me if he had met me a month previously. I most certainly would have been all over him, gotten him to date me while were in the movie, and led him on to make him think we were serious. And then, the second the movie press ended, I would have dumped him on his ass. That was what I’d done in my two previous movies, not that I was necessarily proud of it. “Well, thank you. I appreciate that.”

We reached the Wardrobe room, and Jem raised a hand in a wave. “I have a feeling I shouldn’t go in there, but I’ll see you on set, okay?”

“Sounds good,” I replied enthusiastically, smiling before I eased open the door and stepped into the room.

Macy had worked with me on the last movie, so the two of us knew each other quite well, unlike my relationship with the stylist. The second she saw me, she came over and scooped me into a tight hug, just about squishing my ribs together.

“Lilah, it’s so nice to see you!” Although I’d been downright nasty to her at times, she kind of looked at me like I was her child, and she attributed my bratty behavior on my age. “You ready to get into your costume?”

I nodded, but almost cringed the second she drew out the costume. I knew my character was supposed to be kind of the introverted, writer type, but since when did that mean that I had to wear clothes that looked like they hadn’t breathed since the early nineties?

Although the pants were skinny jeans, they had almost an acid-wash quality about them, and the shirt was an off-the-shoulder number with something written in French underneath a picture of the Eiffel tower lit up at night. So the shirt by itself wasn’t offensive, but the jeans.

“Didn’t acid wash go out of style in, like, 1985?”

She snickered and nodded. “It was a bit later than that, but yes. But a major part of your character is that she shops exclusively at thrift stores because she’s poor. Did you forget that?”

“I must have blocked it out of my mind,” I answered through semi-gritted teeth. I knew that I was going to have to give myself massive scrub-downs in the shower after every day of shooting, but hopefully, I wouldn’t get a skin disease from the secondhand clothes.

“They’ve been washed well,” Macy assured me. “They’re perfectly safe.”

“I guess we’ll see,” I muttered, taking the articles of clothing into my hand and throwing them over a chair before stripping off my dress. The thing about being a movie star was that all shame and shyness completely flew out the window. People saw us in various states of undress all the time, and I barely noticed it anymore. Plus, it wasn’t like I had anything to hide.

Once I was done, I looked in the mirror and evaluated myself, checking out my butt. I guessed I made the clothes look as good as they possibly could, given their ugliness.

“I definitely look homeless,” I muttered, gnawing on the inside of my lip to avoid ruining the lip gloss I’d applied earlier.

“Not homeless,” Macy corrected. “Just not as well-off as Lilah Monroe.”

I let out a long breath and shook my head. “Alright. I’m playing a character, and this will just have to do. I guess it’s not that bad.”

“There’s the spirit! Now head to makeup so they can take off what you have and make you look like you’ve never seen a tube of lipstick in your life.”

I sighed and shook my head as I left the room, wondering if maybe, I should have worked with a vocal coach and taken the other role.