Hot Set (Art of Love #2)

2. Alex

Chapter two

Alex

B randon wasn’t filming most of his project in Bluehaven proper. Instead, he’d set up his movie set in a warehouse close enough to the Atlantic to hear the roar of the ocean but too far away to actually see it. For a long time, I sat in my car and thought about turning back and going home, for multiple reasons.

Firstly, I didn’t really know Brandon. What if he was—I don’t know—a human trafficker or something? He had invited me to what appeared to be a fairly isolated location, after all.

Secondly, if Brandon was making a movie, that meant there were going to be a lot of people there, and the thought of having to talk to people I didn’t know, put my stomach in knots. What if these people didn’t like me? What if I said something that I shouldn’t? What if Brandon had downplayed his own film, and it was some sort of rich, avant-garde kind of thing? What if all these people thought I was just some—I don’t know—low class invader or something?

But at the same time, I missed the theater. When was the last time I walked behind stage? When was the last time I saw a costuming department or stage make-up? Obviously, it had been college, and I was—maybe—a bit excited about seeing a proper film set. The drama department was horribly underfunded.

I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel and only reluctantly raised it. Rationally, I knew that I was being a bit foolish. Brandon was more than likely just a decent guy who had decided to be nice. But God, I couldn’t help but think the worst of him.

After parking my car on the side of the road, I texted Brandon, so he would know I’d arrived. Then, I glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror. I pursed my lips together and ran my fingers once more through my hair. Absolutely nothing about my hair changed. It was as straight and fine as always.

My phone buzzed. I picked it up and opened my texts.

Great! Coming out.

I climbed out of my car and stowed my phone in its usual place in my back pocket. Several other people had parked on the street and in a nearby lot. I wondered how many of them were working on Brandon’s movie. There didn’t seem to be much going on.

Soon, Brandon walked out and waved at me. “Hey, Alex!”

“Hey!” I replied.

Brandon grinned. “I hope it wasn’t too hard to find,” he said. “I know the first time I tried to find this place, I got sent way out of way.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” I replied. “Thank you for your concern, though. That’s really nice of you.”

“No problem,” Brandon said.

Brandon had an easy grin, and although I felt like this was an incredibly awkward moment, Brandon seemed completely unaffected.

“Anyway, come in! It’s really exciting inside! That’s where the magic happens!”

I smiled, despite my misgivings. Brandon’s enthusiasm was so effortlessly infectious. I fell into step beside him, as we headed to the nearby warehouse.

“So why out here?” I asked.

“I like the space,” Brandon replied, shrugging, “And I wanted some place that was close to Bluehaven and New York City. I have some artsy friends that live in Bluehaven, and I begged them to come help me out with this. Thankfully, they agreed.”

“Artsy friends?” I asked.

I hadn’t really known many artsy people down at Southern Miss. The art history program hadn’t been massive, and while the drama department was significantly larger, I had been working within the small niche of theatrical make-up. Brandon was sure to know more than a few make-up artists. This might be a good opportunity to meet people who liked the same things as me! Maybe Mom had been right. I had just needed to get out more.

Brandon held the door open for me. As I entered, a burst of noise filled my ears. Shouting warred for space with music and the sounds of sewing machines, cameras clicking, and wheels squeaking as scenery was moved. A flash went off. A crowd of zombies ambled by, followed by a woman in a very form-fitting blue velvet dress.

The make-up wasn’t bad. Not at all.

“So, as you can see, we’re kind of in full production,” Brandon said proudly. “It’s a work in progress. I’ve never really—you know—worked on a set before, but I’m trying my best.”

We wove through a crowd of zombies, followed by a few schoolgirls with katanas strapped to their backs. Whatever Brandon’s movie was, it was going to be great , judging from the characters I had seen thus far. We passed a set, a background of a swamp. It was incredible. Beyond incredible. From a distance, it didn’t look like a painting; it looked like the real thing. It was only when I was close that I could see it had been painted, airbrushed.

“Great, isn’t it?” Brandon asked.

“It’s amazing,” I replied.

“My friend Mark painted it,” Brandon replied. “He’s been a good sport about doing a lot of the sets for me. His boyfriend, too.”

“A good sport?” I asked.

Brandon laughed. “We were dating for a bit,” he replied, shrugging. “It didn’t work out. No harm, no foul, though. He’s a great guy.”

“That’s very mature of you,” I said.

“I don’t think so. That’s just being decent,” Brandon said. “It’s not really all that worthy of praise.”

I didn’t really know what to say about that. I supposed Brandon was right—to a degree. It shouldn’t be that much of a novelty to be a good person, but while I hadn’t had much in the way of friends, I had watched people who did. I knew that it wasn’t always all that easy or commonplace to find someone who was a good person.

“Have you dated a lot of guys?” I asked.

Brandon arched an eyebrow.

“I’m just wondering,” I replied. “To be fair, any number is a lot to me. I’ve never even been on a date.”

Brandon whistled between his teeth. “And how did this happen?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I’m awkward around women.”

Around everyone, really.

“I just kind of have a hard time approaching people,” I replied. “I—um—well…”

I didn’t want to admit that I’d considered Brandon was a human trafficker or that I’d thought several times of canceling my visit to his set. There didn’t seem to be any way to say it that wouldn’t come across as insulting.

“Well, lucky for you I was there!” Brandon declared, winking. “I get it, though. Sometimes, it’s hard to talk to attractive people. It takes practice and a lot of rejection.”

“I don’t imagine you get all that much rejection,” I replied wryly.

“You’d be surprised,” Brandon said.

“Hey, Brandon!”

Brandon turned around. A man in a black leather jacket and very tight jeans approached us. His hair was dark and thick, clearly straightened within an inch of its life, and his eyes were a sharp, piercing hazel. Once he was close, I caught the scent of his cologne—something spicy and subtle. The man grinned, showing off perfect teeth. “New actor?” the man asked, his eyes snapping to me.

“New friend,” Brandon replied. “Alex, this is Seth.”

Seth tilted his head back and flipped his dark bangs, as though he was filming a commercial for shampoo right at that moment. “Nice to meet you!”

“You, too,” I replied.

“Seth is our hero,” Brandon replied, “In the film, at least.”

“That’s right,” Seth said. “I’m the only survivor of the zombie cast of Hamilton …among other things.”

I arched an eyebrow, unsure precisely how to answer to that strange bit of information.

Seth spoke again. “Are you from around here, Alex?”

“Originally,” I said, “But I went away for college. So, I’ve been gone for a while.”

Seth nodded. “Same,” he said. “I went away for a while, too. I was trying my luck in L.A., but it didn’t go as planned.”

“No?” I asked.

“No,” Seth replied, his voice carrying a note of finality.

I knew better than to ask anything further and instead just nodded.

“And then, you came to us,” Brandon replied.

“Sadly,” Seth said, “But hey, beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Beggars?” Brandon asked.

“Don’t take it personally, Brandon,” Seth replied. “I do take my role as Wesson Winchester Smith very seriously. Truly Oscar material.”

“That is a very clever pun,” Brandon said, sounding vaguely offended.

“Clever, sure,” Seth replied, “And I’m the god of war.”

The joke was that the Egyptian god of war was named Seth, but at the time, I didn’t get the joke. If I had, I might have laughed. Instead, I stood there quietly, silently begging Brandon to bring me back into the conversation. I felt forgotten. And what was I supposed to do? Should I speak up and say something, or should I let them finish talking? Should I wander off on my own or patiently wait?

“And I’m still annoyed that you won’t let me have my motorcycle chase scene,” Seth replied, crossing his arms.

“We can’t exactly replace you if you die in a fiery crash,” Brandon said, “And besides, we’d have to get an insane number of permits.”

“Like you can’t afford an insane number of permits,” Seth countered.

“Of course, I can,” Brandon said. “It’s just I don’t feel like doing the paperwork, not to mention scraping your ass off the pavement.”

Seth rolled his eyes and flipped his hair again. “See, Alex, this is what I deal with,” Seth said. “Every single day.”

“Yeah, you’re such a martyr,” Brandon replied. "How you suffer!"

Seth cracked a mischievous grin. “Careful, Brandon. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to this production, would we? Remember the flamingo incident ?”

Brandon pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear I don’t know why I hired you.”

Seth put his hands in his back pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Because I’ve got the looks and ooze charisma,” he replied, “Don’t cross me, Brandon. If I up and leave, what will you do, then?”

“You aren’t going to leave,” Brandon said.

“Do you want to hedge a bet?” Seth asked.

“No,” Brandon replied, “Because if I do, you’ll quit just to spite me.”

Seth laughed, the sound dark and musical. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you, Alex. If Brandon here gives you a hard time, let me know.”

“I don’t give anyone a hard time,” Brandon said.

“Also,” Seth said, “You need to look at the scenes on schedule tomorrow. One of them is toward the end of the film, and you’re having us film that before the scene where my hair gets turned blue via the magical witch.”

Brandon swore. “Really?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Seth said, “So unless you come up with some twist or something, you need to fix it. I’m only dyeing my hair once.”

“Noted,” Brandon replied. “Send me a text to remind me.”

Seth shrugged and strode away. There was something in his posture or maybe his walk that seemed to have a physical, heavy weight.

“He seems…” I trailed off.

“Like a huge jerk,” Brandon replied. “Piss him off and he’ll prank you into oblivion.”

“Really?”

Brandon nodded. “And drink you out of your inheritance. I have no idea how someone that skinny manages to hold his liquor, but he does. Literally the last man standing.”

“So, watch out for Seth. Good to know,” I replied.

“Sure,” Brandon said, “So, moving along, do you want to see the costumes? We have some pretty cool stuff in wardrobe.”

As if to prove his point, a woman dressed in a vaguely colonial dress rushed past us.

“It’s a zombie movie, right?” I asked. “With the zombie cast of Hamilton ?”

Brandon’s face lit up. “It is! But there’s time travel involved, too! It’s really cool, and the effects are going to be killer . I’ve got the best in the business.”

I arched an eyebrow and wondered how many figures it would take to get the best in the business to agree to be a part of a Sci-Fi original movie knockoff. It must’ve been an astronomical amount. “What do you do?” I asked, glancing at Brandon to judge his reaction.

I felt vaguely like one of my parents. So, what do you do for a living ?

When I was a kid, my parents had always wanted to know what my friends’ parents did, and I’d never understood their fixation with that. Even as an adult, I didn’t really get it. What kid went around asking his friends what their parents did for a living?

“Me?” Brandon asked, laughing. “This for now. It’s my parents’ money. They’re in telecommunications. Boring. But I won’t deny that I’m enjoying the benefits. It’s funding all this, after all.”

I nodded.

We went along, walking through sets and people. It was a bit like being back on stage, and it hadn’t really occurred to me that I had missed the theater and its people so much. A little, but this sharp, sudden need just hadn’t hit me. Not then. But now, standing in the midst of Brandon’s film, all my old love for working in theater came flooding back.