48. Red
Chapter forty-eight
Red
I cling to Rickon’s hand as he leads me through the studio. Last time we were here, only a couple of other people hung around, but now the building teems with life.
Rickon notices my surprise and squeezes my fingers. “They were between movies when we came last time, but now all the action’s started again. First, we need to get your fittings done, and then we’ll head over to the boardroom for the readings at ten.”
I nod and follow, watching everything with delight. How many times have I dreamed of being part of a real set like this?
Rickon guides me past the costume warehouse we visited last time. “Did you bring back my disguise?” I whisper as we walk by the big roller doors.
“Yeah, that week.” He tugs me a little closer to his side, as if disturbed by the memory of the OCB hunting for me. We step into the room next door, which extends in a long, wide hall, with dividers set up along the length. “Welcome to Costume Design.”
I hold in a smile as the setup reminds me of the horse boxes in a stable, minus the stall doors.
Rickon points to the booths. “Each one of these is for the designer in charge of a lead actor. And right here, we have the amazing Callie Bambinec, who’ll be taking care of you.”
We turn into one of the booths. Rolling garment racks fill one side, a storyboard covered with images of clothes takes up most of the back wall, and the third wall hosts a worktable with sewing machine and a mannequin.
“Sweet Rickonn !” Callie, a rail-thin woman with purple hair, croons as we step inside. Her heavy Italian accent gives a rhythmic staccato to all her sounds. She spins toward me and lifts her arms. “And the surprise star of the show. Red Junz.”
She sashays forward and kisses me on both cheeks. “You’re even more beautiful than he tells me.”
I glance at Rickon, and he shrugs, flashing a guilty grin. “What? I had to send her your measurements, and it’s the truth.”
My heart warms. His affection’s so artless, so natural for him to give.
“Truth, yes,” Callie interrupts our moment. “But we have no time to waste-eh. Come, stand, strip.” She talks with her hands as much as her mouth, gesturing for me to hurry up.
Rickon gives me a little nudge, then draws a curtain across the front of the booth. “You’ll have to get used to this,” he murmurs as I shimmy out of my dress. If Callie has a comment on my lacy underwear, she keeps it to herself. Then again, she must be used to seeing people in all kinds of underwear. I’m the one who’s not used to owning and wearing nice things.
Rickon steadies me with one hand while I step out of my dress. “A lot of poking and prodding happens around the set, and sometimes on-the-spot repairs. Privacy goes out the window.”
“Okay. Leave dignity at the door. Check,” I say as Callie helps me into the tight-fitting clothes people wear when riding horses. “Kind of like going to the doctor’s.”
Not that I’ve ever been to see a doctor who wasn’t my captor in some shape or form, but I heard nurses at the omega center talking that way last week. Something about a pap smear, which, from the way they talked, must be like getting wisdom teeth extracted. That, I’ve had done. I shudder.
A man laughs from the booth next door. “Sorry, but that lack of privacy starts right now. I couldn’t help but overhear.”
Rickon confirms I’m clothed, before throwing back the curtain with a grating of metal rings. “Hello, Sebastien.”
“Hey, Rick. Glad to hear you found more work. I got worried when I heard what happened.” A broad-shouldered man in a blue OCB uniform fills the opening, turning from my alpha to me. “I’ve been dying to meet my new co-star. The name’s Sebastien Cho, and I’m one of your alphas.”
Smelling like new car upholstery? I think not. I bristle.
He chuckles. “I mean in the movie.”
Heat burns in my cheeks. “Oh, of course.” I step out of Callie’s grasp as she flutters over each fold and hem of fabric and offer my hand to the big alpha. “Red Jones.” I tilt my head toward Rickon and add, “And he doesn’t like the name Rick.”
Rickon stares at me in shock and I flash him a quick wink. My turn to look after him.
Sebastien’s brows pop. “Sorry, I’ll keep that in mind.”
I nod. “I thought you were an actual OCB officer when you walked in.” I still feel a bit nervous at the sight of the law enforcement blue, even though I’m not wanted anymore. I’ll have to get used to it since the main character has an OCB agent love interest.
He grins and looks down at his uniform. “Pretty good, isn’t it?” He taps strips of white running around the hems. “This here is the only difference from the real uniforms. The trim is also blue on theirs.” He turns so I can see the sleeve. “Even the badges are authentic, provided by the OCB, although they have the words ‘costume only’ engraved in the back.”
“Pity,” I murmur.
“Right?” He laughs. “I thought the same thing. Could have some fun with these threads.”
“And get both of you put in jail for impersonating a police officer,” Rickon adds dryly.
“Probably,” Sebastien agrees with a good-natured shrug. “That wouldn’t go real well with my career.” He turns to me and rests one hand over his heart, still smiling. “Well, I won’t take up your dressing time. I just wanted to say hello.” He waves and turns away. “See you at the table, Red.”
At least not all my coworkers will be ogling me and my alpha. That’s a relief.
I listen to the first few scenes of the script again while Callie fusses over me. I change into as many costumes as she can stuff me into during our hour, and when the sizes don’t fit how she wants, she bustles off to get another size or sticks pins through it all to note the alterations. I stand and take it like I’m some kind of doll, splitting my focus between the script and my surroundings.
Rickon talks shop with her, discussing fabrics and helping her pin things in place. Hot pride flushes through me each time he steps in like a pro. My alpha’s so talented. Every time our eyes meet, we both smile, and as he moves around me, he sneaks little touches. Each one of them melt my heart a bit more.
When my legs get sore and I start fidgeting, Callie squeezes my hand. “Be grateful you’ll mostly be wearing jodhpurs and silks. Imagine how long this takes when it’s big dresses-eh.”
I whistle. “I hadn’t thought of that. But I wasn’t complaining. It’s all fun.” So’s her accent. The staccato pace and the lilting vowels remind me of a prancing pony. It’s pretty.
She nods enthusiastically. “Good attitude. But enough for one day, eh. You don’t want to be late.” She holds out my clothes.
I take the dress with an asymmetrical neckline that exposes one shoulder, long sleeves, a laced high waist, and plaid knee-length skirt. I don’t want to use the word nervous, but I am keen to make a good first impression. Rickon helped me curl my hair this morning, and now it’s piled up on the back of my head in a messy updo with a few loose curls hanging around my face. I hesitate. I dressed as Red, the actress, but that’s not who’s going to the table read.
“On second thoughts, can I wear the riding clothes?” I ask, smoothing down the fitted pants and running in place in the knee-high boots. “Just for the table read?” The person inside this studio has to be Ashana, a woman who’s devoted her entire life to being a jockey, who lives and breathes horses. She doesn’t wear a dress to meetings.
Callie’s mouth purses, then she nods once. “Only if ya promise, on your alpha, not to eat in it, yes?”
I contain my grin as I lift my right hand. “I promise. Did Rickon say he was my alpha?”
Her brows lift and she smirks. “Who needs to be told? I have a nose, and ya can’t keep-eh your eyes off each other.”
I lock gazes with Rickon again and laugh. “Well, that’s true.”
“Hard not to when she’s so beautiful,” my alpha says, making Callie catcall. Rickon neatly rolls up my dress and shoes and packs them into his backpack. “Ready for your first official moment as an actress?” he asks, offering his hand.
I take it. “Sure am. Lead on, alpha.”
All eyes snap to me as I enter the conference room. Can’t blame these seasoned actors for being curious about a newcomer, but it does make me feel a bit like a bug under a microscope. However, I’m not going to slink in like I don’t belong.
I swing my handbag and salute the room. “Good morning, one and all. Ashana reporting for duty.” I add a little kiss as I drop the salute before marching around to an empty seat on the far side of the table. Don’t fancy having a doorway at my back.
Mr Yun nods my way. “Welcome. Everyone, I want you to meet Red Jones, our newest cast member.” He checks his watch, which is upside down on his wrist. “Get yourself a drink and settle in. We’ll start in five minutes.”
Before I can ask where the drinks are, Rickon appears at my side with a frothy coffee. He sets it down next to a water bottle, pulls the manuscript from my handbag, and opens it on the table in front of me.
The words themselves blur and dance on the page, but we covered each scene in colored highlighters, and Rickon even pasted in some tiny line drawings he printed off the computer at each point something in the scene changes. Thanks to the recording he made me, I know all my lines for the first six scenes, although I should only need four today.
I glance up, feeling like I have enough armor.
Bradley Jacks catches my eye and leans across the table. “Hello again, Red. You’re looking every bit the gorgeous omega.”
I rest my chin on my hand. “And to think I haven’t even gotten into character yet.”
He laughs like I’ve told the world’s best joke. Then I see his gaze slide up over my shoulder to Rickon. Yeah, this guy’s going to be a headache. I snap my fingers loudly, making it obvious I know his attention isn’t on me.
“Do try not to stare at my alpha, Brad,” I say sweetly. “I’m much more jealous than I appear.”
Someone further down the table chokes on their mouthful of water.
The door flings open and Sebastien strides in. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, puffing a little. He must’ve run all the way from the warehouse. I toe out the chair beside me and he nods as he catches the movement.
“Brought the costume department with you, hey?” he jokes as he drops into the seat.
I shrug. “Ashana doesn’t even own a dress.” I wave at Bradley, who’s getting out of his chair. “Rich owner James over there has to buy me one for the gala.”
Brad chuckles. “Say the word and I’ll buy one for the omega Red as well.”
One of the women down the row glares my way. That’s me, Red Hawk, making friends on her first day of kindergarten.
I smile sweetly. “My alpha takes care of me perfectly, thanks,” I shoot back.
Brad shrugs and heads over to a table at the far end of the room. I watch from the corner of my eye as he sidles up to Rickon, who’s greeting some of the other managers.
“Hey, Rickon? I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you about what happened between us. Maybe after we’re finished here?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary since nothing happened,” Rickon answers quickly in a hushed voice.
Brad touches the back of his own head, a motion which makes his muscles flex. “I heard Hannah Sorentito is pissed, and I wanted to help. I don’t think you can repair that problem on your own.”
A tremor runs through Rickon’s hands, and he quickly slides them into his shallow pant pockets. His gorgeous mouth thins into a hard line. Whoever this Sorentito chick is, we’ll be having words.
I watch for a moment longer, wondering how much shit Rickon’s put up with running solo in this industry. Well, one day I’ll be so powerful no one will dare make trouble for my alpha. And it all starts right now at this table, with my first read. But that doesn’t mean I have to sit here and leave him to suffer until that day.
“Rickon, babe,” I say loudly, drawing more than just his gaze. “Come here.”
He walks over immediately, eyes locked on me as if I’m the only thing that matters, and somehow I don’t think my summary is far off the truth. It feels amazing to be at the center of his world.
“Sit,” I order, rising from the comfy office chair.
Rickon balks, looking along the table at all the main actors—famous and influential people. I pressure his shoulder down, and then plop into his lap sideways, draping myself across his body with my boots hanging over the armrest before pulling the script up to balance on my knees.
“Much better,” I say.
A chuckle vibrates through his chest and he wraps his arms around my waist, dropping his nose into my neck to inhale deeply. His fingers squeeze me over and over, like a cat kneading. I’ll gladly be his fidget toy, if it means he’s happy.
I glance up through my lashes and meet Mr Yun’s quizzical gaze. I drop one eyelid in a sultry wink. “We’re new packmates. Surely you remember how it is?” Now every single handsome fucker at this table knows Rickon’s mine. He might be the one with the cat hands, but I’m the one purring.
The director shakes his head twice before rapping his knuckles on the table. “Everyone’s here, so take your seats and let’s get started.”
I warm up my throat with a few quiet hums.
Ashana doesn’t have any alphas—yet. She doesn’t even know she’s an omega. Maybe for today I’ll interpret the warmth under my thighs and back as leaning against my favorite horse. I draw in on myself, sinking into the role I’ve studied all weekend. This is what I do best.