Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
I stepped out of the wardrobe trailer, and the plastic screen door might as well have been the swinging doors of a saloon.
Three widows already in period dresses stared at me, mouths slowly gaping open.
“Ma’am.” I tipped my black Stetson hat at Alice. “Ma’am. Ma’am.” I greeted Sylvie and Doris next, and all three widows broke out into huge grins.
My cowboy boots clicked as I came down the stairs, my hip movement exaggerated with each slow stride, the spurs clinking in rhythm with my steps.
I spread my arms wide, letting them take in the full picture. “Well? Whaddya think?”
“Oh, look at you!” Sylvie burst into laughter, a nod of approval joining it.
She was cinched into a high-collared navy dress with a brooch at her throat and looked like an old Western school teacher about to fail a child for poor penmanship.
“Marge, you look like you’re about to rob an old Western train. I love it.”
I hooked a thumb in my gun holster, cocking a hip as I struck a pose.
“You’re not in a dress!” Doris pointed out the obvious as she waved a hand over her own pink dress. The one that suited her so perfectly, along with the little bonnet tied beneath her chin, it looked like she’d time traveled straight out of the Old West.
I shrugged. “The stylist tried to put me in a floral-print dress that made me look like a sofa, but I wasn’t having it.
After ten minutes of negotiation that I’d sooner die than wear that damned dress, I bartered my way into this beaut.
” I waved a hand over my duster coat and pair of worn leather chaps.
“You really look like a gunslinger!” Doris clapped. “And that walk was perfect. You’re gonna be a star!”
Alice pursed her lips. “That walk was seventy percent John Wayne and thirty percent ‘I crapped my pants and I’m looking for a restroom.’”
I tapped the replica Colts hanging from my waist. “Watch it with the mouth there, ma’am. I’ve got grit. I’ve got guns. And I don’t take kindly to back talk. I’m basically the female Clint Eastwood.”
“You’re basically the knockoff Temu Clint Eastwood is what you meant. I, on the other hand, look like I missed a career in the movie business.”
She slid a hand down the waist of her deep-burgundy dress.
She wasn’t wrong.
She looked incredible. The fitted bodice hugged her curves perfectly, and with her hair swept up elegantly, she looked less like a background extra and more like whoever the hero of this movie was supposed to be falling in love with.
“You look like the woman the whole town is whispering about,” I told her.
She lifted her chin, taking it as a compliment of the highest order. “Obviously.”
After we all took turns examining each other’s outfits, I caught sight of Roger, Anders, and Dan coming toward us.
Dan let out a low whistle. “Wow. You ladies actually cleaned up great. You fit the period perfectly.”
“I told you we’d be perfect in this.” I kept my drawl for effect as I sauntered forward to meet them.
Roger chuckled, softly shaking his head. “That you did.” He looked at Alice. “You’re going to stand out in the background. In a good way.”
“I tend to,” she agreed.
“This is so fun!” Doris bounced on her heels. “I love this dress!”
“It looks fabulous on you,” Anders said. “Truly. You all look incredible.”
“So, what do we do now?” Sylvie asked.
“Now you head on over that way, and they’ll get you fit into the scene. We have a few big ones today you’ll be in.”
Excitement churned in my chest. “We won’t let you down. We’re gonna be the best damned extras you ever had.” I spat on the ground for effect, but it only made everyone’s faces pucker in disgust.
“I’m sure you’ll be great,” Dan said. “Just follow the crew’s instructions.”
“We will,” Sylvie answered for us.
Before I could assure them I was going to be so good that the Academy would be throwing Oscars at me, some terrified-looking crew members rushed toward us.
“Clarice is here! Clarice is here!” one whisper-yelled as she ran by, doing the same to everyone she passed like she was Paul freaking Revere warning everyone of the British invasion or, from the terror in her eyes, a velociraptor invasion.
Roger’s, Dan’s, and Anders’s eyes all flashed as wide as hers, and the color drained from their faces.
They all spun in the direction the woman had sprinted from, and a woman with a walk that could have crushed concrete moved toward us.
“Oh no,” Roger whispered. “If she flew in, we’re in deep shit.”
She crossed the lot with the focused forward momentum of a woman who had never once in her life been unsure of where she was going.
She was somewhere in her mid-fifties, sharp-featured, dressed impeccably but in a way that said I have power and I don’t need to dress like I’m trying to impress anyone to exercise it.
Her eyes scanned the set like a building inspector scanning for violations, looking for what was wrong before she’d even gotten close enough to say hello.
“Who is Clarice?” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.
“The executive producer,” Anders answered. “And Roger is right. If she’s here, we’re in trouble.”
I straightened up, hips pressed forward a little to show off my guns. “You boys don’t need to be afeard. I’ll protect you.”
“Those aren’t real guns and you aren’t a real gunslinger.” Alice stepped closer. “Please don’t embarrass us in front of the executive producer.”
I scoffed. “Please. She’s gonna see my talent and offer me a leading role.”
Alice had no time to argue back, because Clarice arrived, no smile to greet the three men practically quaking in their shoes.
“Clarice, hey!” Roger forced an awkward smile, and it showed instantly why he was working behind the camera and not in front of it. It was the worst fake smile I’d ever seen.
“Didn’t realize you were coming in today.” Anders extended his hand for her to shake.
She looked down at it from behind her oversized sunglasses, ignoring the gesture.
“I didn’t plan on coming down until I got a call that you’re redoing a scene today that will take us a million dollars over budget.”
They visibly squirmed, each looking to the other, waiting for someone to answer.
As they struggled to form a sentence to defend themselves, I realized that even though my guns weren’t real, and a duel at noon wasn’t on the table, I could still help defend my new friends. Buy them some time to come up with the answers they needed to save their own skins.
I stepped forward, stopping right in front of her.
Clarice looked at me. I stood my ground, adjusted my Stetson, and leaned in.
“Hello, Clarice,” I whispered in my best Hannibal Lecter voice, finishing it with a creepy little slurping hiss.
Clarice didn’t flinch. I doubted she blinked, but I couldn’t tell from behind those black sunglasses. She just stared at me for three long seconds. “Never heard that one before. Really original.”
“Aw, come on! I wanted to show you my acting chops!” I said, snapping back into my normal voice. “I’m new on set, so if you need me to do anything, I’m your girl. I basically was Anthony Hopkins just then, right? I mean, you bought it.”
She didn’t respond, and I wished I could see her eyes. Right now it was like staring at a shark. No expression to judge.
But I’d stared down sharks before and lived to tell about it, so I straightened up and tried again.
“How about this? I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse!
” I tried for that signature Marlon Brando gravel but realized it sounded more like I had a throat infection or had swallowed a seagull.
So, I tried again. “Go ahead, punk... make my day!”
I paused, a knowing smirk lifting my lips, as this time, I was certain I’d nailed it.
Clarice, the widows, and the boys didn’t respond. Everyone just stared at me.
“Marge, for the love of God, stop,” Sylvie finally whispered.
“What? I wanted to show her my range. I’m top talent here in case anyone wants to put me in a speaking scene. Kinda wasted opportunity to leave me in the background, you know? Give me a bigger part. You won’t regret it.”
“We apologize for our friend,” Alice answered, and I scowled at her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Clarice. I’m Alice. This is Sylvie and Doris, and the embarrassing one is Marge. We’re extras today. We’ll get out of your hair while you all discuss business.”
Slowly, Clarice lowered her glasses, her green eyes coming into view as they locked onto Alice.
“You… you’re Gammy, aren’t you?” she asked, pulling off her sunglasses completely. “The showgirl.”
Pride straightened Alice’s spine. “Yes. I am.”
All the “top dog” energy evaporated into pure fan-girl excitement. “I saw your show in Vegas. Twice! You’re an absolute inspiration, dancing like that at... well, at any age! My mother talks about your Showgirl Sunset routine constantly.”
Alice gave a graceful little nod, the “Vegas star” suddenly emerging through the Western ensemble. “That’s very kind of you, Clarice. It was a wonderful run, and I had the time of my life up there.”
“You’re a legend and an inspiration. I had no idea you were cast in this movie!” She turned to the guys, who looked just as shocked as we were to see this side of Clarice. “Roger, why didn’t you tell me Gammy was in this movie? This is incredible. Brilliant choice.”
“I, uh…” He paused, stuttering for an answer. “We didn’t actually know she was famous. They are extras today.”
The warmth in Clarice’s face evaporated like a storm had swallowed the sun.
“Oh. So you didn’t even manage to do one thing right.
Why am I not surprised? You have a name like Gammy and you’ve got her…
what? Mopping the saloon floor?” Clarice turned on her heel, snapped her fingers, and yelled, “Roger, Dan, Anders. Production trailer. Now.”
The three men leaped forward after her like scolded little boys, and Clarice just glanced back over her shoulder and called, “Pleasure to meet you, Gammy. I’m sure I’ll see you on set soon.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Alice responded.