Chapter 6
I arrived at the hotel yesterday afternoon and it’s lovely.
Five stars. Soft towels. A view of the London skyline.
I group-called my family, and gave Alison and my parents a tour of my room.
They were as blown away as I was by the rain shower and claw-footed bathtub.
And the robes, which Alison asked me to steal for her.
After my parents said goodbye and went to bed, I tried to talk to her about my nerves for today, but I got her usual response, telling me I should just focus on the good.
On the fact that I’m in the movie, that my demented commitment to this career is finally paying off and I should stop worrying. Stop finding problems.
Which upset me more than I let on at the time.
Because, again, she’s right – anyone would kill to be in my position.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t be nervous too.
Alison often bemoans that I don’t talk to her about things enough, but whenever I do I somehow end up feeling like my emotions don’t matter unless they’re exclusively positive.
Like there’s something wrong with me for letting in anything negative at all.
Like, even when I’m doing something right, I’m somehow getting it all wrong.
Thankfully, I didn’t see Avi when I checked in. I’m not sure what I would’ve said – and I’m still incredibly nervous about seeing him on-set tomorrow. But I have to focus. Have to make the most of what could be my big break.
The book Hannah and Spencer gave me sits on a table in my room, and I can see it from my bed.
I tucked the note from when I was younger into it – as a talisman, a reminder of how far I’ve come.
And after room-service dinner (Nat insisted I make the most of the perks), my phone pinged with a message to our group chat.
I click it when I open my phone, a flicker of warmth passing through me as I read it.
Hannah S: Good luck tomorrow, Lara!
Spencer M: You’re going to kill it. And if it helps with the nerves, in my first big-budget production I managed to knock over one of the leads and sprain their ankle during rehearsals. So whatever happens tomorrow, it’ll certainly be better than that!
Lara: Thanks, guys! You’re welcome to come visit set anytime.
I don’t expect them to take me up on the invitation. In fact, I’m fully expecting that as soon as someone new moves in, they’ll forget about me. But in spite of all that, a part of me lights up at the idea of them coming. Of a piece of my life lingering, for once.
I click out of the thread and open my emails, scrolling through the call sheet Nat sent me yesterday. A list of appearances on-set today. Ranked in order of importance. My name just below Avi’s, at number two. A thrill passes through me as I read it again.
The highest I’ve ever been on a call sheet was 137, for a ‘powerful non-speaking role’ in a crime thriller – a role that ended up being cut from the series entirely.
I still remember watching it, my heart clenching as I realised I wasn’t going to get to see myself on screen.
That the hope and excitement I felt was for nothing.
So to be number two is nothing less than incredible.
I scroll down, noting some of the other names on the list.
Roman Kane at number three, playing the villain: a mastermind behind the murders of several London socialites, made to look like suicides.
His role is charismatic and charming, with a dangerous streak – much like what I’ve read about his presence on-set.
He has a profile almost as significant as Avi’s, but far more divisive.
Known for his commitment to a method approach, hardly breaking from role on-set, he’s described universally as either the best person people have ever worked with or the worst, depending on the role.
Which doesn’t bode well, considering his character is a sociopath.
Deborah West at number seven, playing my mother.
I knew about this one from the casting announcement, and still haven’t got over it.
She’s one of the greatest stage actresses of the last fifty years, and rarely does films. Getting to work with her will be a dream come true.
Something I’d never have imagined, even a few weeks ago.
I scroll down a little further, taking in the full list for the first time. Then stop in my tracks.
Because a name is there that I didn’t notice yesterday.
My eyes latch on to it, widening.
At number seventeen, there in bold letters that stand out to me so noticeably I can’t believe I ever missed them.
Sienna Marsh: Socialite Number 3.
I frown as I read it.
Why would she take such a small role? Sienna’s such a huge name – this can’t be anything but a waste of her time. And she was up for my part, so I don’t know why she’d accept anything less.
But then it hits me – Avi. She must be between jobs and want to be on-set with him. Which is nice for him, I suppose.
Possessed by a thread of curiosity now, I get up from the bed and open my laptop on the desk in the corner of the room. I type her name into Google and press enter.
What I find is impressive. Page after page of interviews. Actors on Actors. Forbes ‘30 Under 30’. Magazine shoots. The cover of Teen Vogue in their ‘role models’ issue. Because not only is she a supermodel and now an up-and-coming actress, but she’s also known for her charity work and advocacy.
She’s perfect. But I already knew that.
I scroll down to some paparazzi photos, taken this past week in London.
She must have already flown in for the film – is probably already in this hotel, a notion that sends a sense of intimidation through me.
The fame might not affect me with Avi – I knew him before, so I have some conception of him as normal – but Sienna looks…
otherworldly. Blonde hair falling silkily over her shoulders.
Her carefully distressed jeans. Her hand hanging artfully from Avi’s as they step out of a famous sushi restaurant together.
I hate myself for it, but I zoom in – taking in every detail. Their designer clothes. Their posture: heads tilted together. Laughing.
They look so happy.
A strange feeling passes through me as I look at it, and I bite the inside of my lip hard to try to repress the emotions that rise up.
Because they’re perfect together. Because it would have been easy – so easy – for Alessandro to have cast Sienna in my role.
The film would have practically sold itself.
But a second later, that feeling hardens into determination.
Because he chose me. And in this moment, it lights a fire under me – to prove him right.
I close the laptop and check the time. It’s 3.45.
Fuck.
I need to get to set.
I rush downstairs, happy in the knowledge that I won’t run into Avi this morning. He has a different call time and should already be on-set. The lobby is empty and it’s pitch dark outside. No one else up at this ungodly hour.
I rush down the steps, the car already waiting.
My driver – I learned on the drive to and from my fitting last week – will be the same throughout filming.
His name is George. He is polite and funny, and has a penchant for a very specific kind of Scottish whisky and cigars.
I am still both completely floored that I have an actual driver and am apparently entirely incapable of opening Tesla doors.
I spend most of the twenty-minute journey in relative silence, after some back-and-forth with George about the early hour and the route he plans to take, and decide to comfort myself by flicking through the script in my bag, turning to today’s pages.
The notes I’ve made in the margins contrasting: green pen against the black type.
I’ve gone through the whole thing several times since signing the contract, making notes in line with my vision for Amelia’s character.
Ideas for emotional inflections on each line.
What I perceive to be the motivations behind each scene.
I do this for every script – even the smaller plays I’ve been in as side characters.
It helps me get into the role. And in this case, the notes came as naturally as breathing. I hardly had to think about it at all.
We’ll be starting with a few conversational scenes between Avi and me – no kissing until much later in the filming process, thank God.
Alessandro wants to film in loosely chronological order, so we’ll mostly follow the plot of the film as we go.
It’s an unorthodox approach – with most films shot out of sequential order – but I’m excited about it.
We’ll start with Amelia and Jackson meeting for the first time since she broke their engagement.
Because she’s starting up her own detective agency and needs his help with a case.
Having read the full script, I know there won’t be any full-frontal sex scenes, so there has been no need for nudity clauses in my contract (or complete meltdowns at the thought of having to do that with him).
Just a few kissing scenes – bridges I’ll have to cross when I get to them.
I turn to the first and wince as the memory resurfaces, of the first audition.
His hand on my waist, kicking up the image of that night in the corner of the pub.
Where everything changed between us, then abruptly fell apart.
Stop it, Lara.
I move quickly on to the next scene, one I’ll be filming with Roman this afternoon.
Amelia’s first interaction with the villain, before she knows he’s the man she’s looking for.
While I’m still worried about working with him, because his reputation precedes him, even working with a potential sociopath worries me less than filming with Avi.
Which is concerning, to say the least. But I’ll just have to keep my cool.
There’s too much at stake to let it affect me.