Hot Set (Art of Love #2)

3. Alex

Chapter three

Alex

A fter looking over the set, Brandon invited me out to lunch. His treat. I spent the drive over to La Noche trying to think of a tactful way to refuse his charity. That was until I arrived at the restaurant, took a menu, and realized that the menu didn’t have prices; never a good sign.

After we ordered, Brandon cleared his throat and ran a finger around the rim of his glass. Tiny bubbles popped in the warm brown soda. “So,” Brandon said. “What do you do?”

“Do?” I echoed.

“You asked me,” Brandon said. “It seems only fair.”

“Well, I majored in art history,” I replied.

“So, you’ve seen a few naked men,” Brandon joked.

I had nearly forgotten that Brandon had mentioned being a nude model. “Yes,” I replied. “Just a few. Some great abs. Small penises.”

That was true. But dear God, why did I say that?

Brandon snorted. “That’s an… interesting observation.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “No,” I replied. “See; it makes sense. A small penis was seen as…you don’t really want to hear this.”

“Oh, no,” Brandon said. “I definitely want to hear this.”

“During the Renaissance, a small penis was believed to be the mark of a gentleman,” I replied awkwardly. “So a lot of statues from that era have small, you know…”

“I see. I’ll bet you're fabulous at trivia games.”

I shook my head. “As long as it’s art history. Anything else, I suck. I do know a bit about drama, though. My minor was in stage make-up.”

“Really?” Brandon asked.

I nodded. “Art history is my one true love. My dream job is the FBI art forgery team. That’s why I got my degree in art history. My university requires you to have a minor if you’re getting a major in the arts, though. So, you know. Why not?”

“FBI, huh? That’s different,” Brandon replied.

“I guess. They haven’t called me back for an interview, yet.”

“I’m sure they will,” Brandon said.

“I don’t know about that,” I replied. “It would be nice, though.”

“And in the meantime, what are you doing? Besides hanging around on my movie set, obviously,” Brandon said, “Which you’re welcome to keep doing, of course.”

“Presently, I’m on the job hunt,” I said. “Super exciting. I know. I’m trying to get out more, too. I feel like I need to be a better person. More outgoing.”

Brandon nodded. “That’s a good goal to have.”

“You think?”

“Self-improvement is always a worthy goal,” Brandon said. “That’s why I’ve traveled so much. There’s this idea that when you’re young, you’re supposed to find yourself and everything, but that’s absurd. I think finding yourself is a never-ending journey, and the more places you go, the more you learn about yourself.”

It must be nice to travel like that. I had only been to a handful of states; I'd never left the country.

“That’s profound,” I replied. “That you see it as a never-ending process.”

“Profound isn’t what most people say.”

“What do most people say, then?”

“Immature. Usually my father,” Brandon replied, “But I suppose it makes sense. It is his money supporting me. He would like me to settle down and have everything figured out, and I’m just not there yet.”

“No?”

Brandon shook his head. “Like this movie. It began as an impulse. It was something I hadn’t done before, so I thought I would try it. Now, it’s more of a passion project, but even after I’m done, I don’t know what I’ll do next.”

“I think people over-assume sometimes how easy it is to figure out what they want to do,” I replied, “Especially for the rest of your life.”

Brandon nodded. “I completely agree,” he replied.

“And sometimes, you just can’t,” I said. “I’m fully expecting to land a part-time retail job for a while.”

“Retail?” Brandon asked. “Why?”

“They’re always hiring.”

Brandon hummed and toyed with his straw.

I hesitated and toyed with the straw in my drink. I took a deep breath. “Unless you’re hiring,” I said.

I glanced up at him to see his reaction. Brandon’s lips quirked upward, seemingly in amusement. “So that ’s why you came along,” he said.

“Well, no,” I meekly protested. “To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about it until you asked what I do. I don’t know that I thought about it at all. It just jumped out.”

Brandon chuckled. “Well, I don’t see why not,” he said, “If you’ve got the stuff. You’ve done shows and stuff, right?”

“Sure,” I replied. “Quite a few of them— Othello, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Heathers —I worked on every production my university put on while I was there.”

“That sounds good,” Brandon said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ll admit I don’t know much about make-up. I’ve hired some pretty questionable people before. So that would be something that you would want to talk to Bioncia about. If she likes you, you’re in. I don’t have a problem with it.”

I nodded and tried to hide how nervous I was. Sure, I was good at make-up and had experience with it, but the thought of having a professional decide whether or not I had any skills was nerve-wracking at best.

“Are you good with gore?” Brandon asked. “We can always use some extra decaying flesh on the set.”

My laughter sounded fake. “Definitely. We did a stage production of Pride and Prejudice with Zombies .”

Brandon’s face lit up. “Fabulous. My friend Mark. His boyfriend is really into the horror genre; that’s something he would really enjoy.”

“What about you?” I asked.

Brandon hummed and shrugged. “I like horror just fine, but it’s mostly that exploitation, over the top niche that I really like, not necessarily the horror, but the films you watch that are so bad they’re good. That kind of thing. Sharknado, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes …”

“Sherlock Holmes?”

Brandon grinned and leaned forward. “The climax of the movie involves Sherlock Holmes in a hot air balloon facing off against his brother, who is piloting a giant, fire-breathing mechanical dragon over London, while John Watson races to the palace to try and save Queen Victoria from this robotic maid. It’s terrible in the most glorious way.”

“Wow.”

I knew little about Sherlock Holmes, but I was quite sure there weren’t mechanical dragons involved.

“That’s part of why I want my film to be so bizarre,” Brandon said. “It’s a zombie film, but it’s also a comedy, a time travel story, and a vampire romance.”

“That sounds really great,” I replied. “Creative.”

It would probably be destroyed by critics, but it sounded like the sort of film that would be so stupid it’s just ridiculously fun to watch.

“I think so, too,” Brandon said, his eyes crinkling around the edges, “But we’ll wait and see. And when we get back to set, I’ll introduce you to Bioncia. She’s really great. If you’re as good as I think you are, you won’t have anything to worry about. I promise.”

I forced a smile and hoped both that I was as good as Brandon thought I was and that Bioncia was…merciful.

Bioncia was a short, African American woman with short, pink hair. She wore jeans and a t-shirt along with paint stained Keds. Her appearance was comforting. It was casually millennial. A little Hot Topic and a little indie artist. She looked me up and down. “Is that your make-up?” she asked, pointing to the black case I pulled behind me.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, then,” Bioncia replied.

“I think you’ll be impressed,” Brandon said brightly.

Brandon had taken up residence behind me, brushing off several comments and questions along the way to the make-up station. Evidently, there had been some sort of mix-up between which scenes were being filmed and what costumes were going with them. Brandon didn’t seem too concerned.

“You said that about the last one, too,” Bioncia said, “Because you met her outside some French cosmetics store, and she told you she was famous on the Social-Gram.”

“Well…” Brandon trailed off.

“We’ll get you an extra, and you’ll have thirty minutes to show us what you can do,” Bioncia said.

Thirty minutes wasn’t much time at all, but working on stage make-up had taught me the importance of being able to do a lot in a little bit of time. I nodded. “Got it,” I said.

Bioncia called over a pale, blonde woman, who immediately sat in one of the leather-clad stools before the mirrors and shelves of the make-up station. I took a deep breath and pulled out my supplies. I should have practiced more before I came to do this. My mom had humored me and let me do some things to her face—some creative eyeshadow, some heavy contouring—but nothing excessive; nothing like what Bioncia would expect.

I began hesitantly, drawing nervous lines of pale white make-up across the extra’s face, trying to decide how I would divide her up. But then, the more I worked, the easier it was. There was no clock to keep time, so I tried to work as quickly as possible. I glued on latex and coated it with make-up, creating sores and blood over the woman’s smooth, pale skin. I could do this.

Bioncia returned, Brandon following close behind. For a director, he was awfully obsessed with every single aspect of filming. Obviously, a director should be, but I had never seen anyone micromanage quite this much. Maybe Brandon was only around because he’d been the one to invite me, and he felt the need to prove that I was worth their while.

I took a deep breath and glanced toward Bioncia, whose eyes narrowed. For a few seconds, no one said anything.

“Well?” Brandon finally asked, his eyes darting in my direction. “Alex is really great, isn’t he?”

“I would have put more red in,” Bioncia said, tracing a finger along the extra’s cheekbone, “For more contrast. And darker. We have to keep in mind that the camera is going to flatten her out significantly.”

I nodded; a bit embarrassed that I hadn’t done that. And I hadn’t been thinking about doing it either, so my failure wasn’t just because I had run out of time. That somehow made it worse.

“ But ,” Bioncia added, “It’s good, overall. Welcome to the team, Alex.”