Chapter 14 #2
We watched for a few moments until they disappeared into the fray of rushing crew members. Then Sylvie sucked the air through her teeth.
“Yeesh. She was something else,” she said.
“She was kinda scary.” Doris tugged her bonnet back into place as a gust of wind loosened it.
“I like her.” Alice shrugged. “A powerful, confident businesswoman. My kinda gal.”
“Ah, she’s nothing but teeth. All bark and no bite. Come on. We’re supposed to be on set, I think, and with those guys gone, we’re gonna need to find our way. Follow me, ladies.”
I led the widows through the massive set, which was built like a real Western town everywhere you looked. We oohed and ahhed at everything we passed, getting completely caught up in the magic of what went on behind the scenes at a real live movie shoot.
We rounded a corner, and the full scale of the thing opened up before us—the Western street we’d glimpsed on our way in, now lit and dressed and alive with the controlled chaos of a real production in full swing.
Camera rigs. Equipment I didn’t know the names of that probably cost more than Bertha.
People with headsets and clipboards huddled together, their decisions each shaping the movie we would one day sit in a theater to see.
Leaning up against a hitching post was Jackson Harlow, a man who looked like he’d been carved from granite by God’s own hands. A face I’d seen in the movies more times than I could count.
Doris inhaled sharply beside me.
Sylvie’s hand found my arm and gripped it without a word.
Even Alice, who was not easily impressed by much of anything, went very still.
“Get outta here!” I slapped my leg. “Jackson Harlow is in this! That means this is a legit movie, ladies! Big budget stuff! Damn skippy, we’ve hit the big time!”
“Look! Colt Stirling!” Sylvie pointed to the other famous actor walking toward Jackson, his spurs scraping the dirt with each step.
I wanted to lose my mind. I wanted to run over there and introduce myself and tell them I had watched every single thing they’d ever made and ask if I could take a photo for Roxie, who would absolutely die when she heard about this.
Instead, I straightened my hat, put my thumbs in my holster, and walked forward like a woman who belonged on a movie set.
We were professionals now.
“Come on, ladies. Let’s find out where we’re supposed to go.”
We walked on, four women in period costumes strolling through a real-life Western town, looking for their scene to become immortalized in movie history. Even if just as extras.
Side by side, we walked down that old Western street, and I thought if there were only a sunset behind us, it would be the best scene in any movie ever made.
I could almost hear the deep voice from the movie trailer in my mind, the audience riveted as we sauntered toward the camera.
They thought they could stop them. They thought they had won. But what they didn’t know was that vengeance came for them in the form of four widows with one goal… total destruction!
I wondered if they would give us all an Oscar or only get us one to share that we would have to pass back and forth every few months.
“Cut!” a deep voice yelled, pulling me from my imagined speech where Roxie was waving at me from the audience in a beautiful gown.
We slammed to a stop, and all eyes spun toward us.
“What the hell are you doing?” A woman rushed toward us, her eyes bulging so wide they nearly burst out of her head. “Get off the set!”
“What? Wait. Are we…” Sylvie’s face drained of color. “Are you shooting a scene right now?”
“Yes! And you just walked right into the freaking shot! Get out of here!” She grabbed her hair like she was about to rip it out.
“Oh God. This is embarrassing.” Alice’s face bloomed in several shades of red as she looked around at everyone staring at us, glares and scowls across their faces.
Doris cringed. “Oops.”
“My bad,” I answered. “Was looking for our scene.”
“Well, this isn’t it! Go!” The woman pointed toward the side.
Sylvie grabbed my hand and dragged me behind her, the four of us sprinting to safety around a corner.
We slid to a stop behind a fake grocery store, the dust settling around us as we stood silently for several moments.
“Uh, so that just happened,” Sylvie finally said. “I can’t believe we did that! Marge! You just dragged us into a live shoot!”
“Well, the guys ditched us and someone had to get us where we were going! How was I supposed to know they were rolling? It’s a town! People walk in towns!”
“Let’s just try not to embarrass ourselves anymore today. Please.” Alice adjusted her hair, her Vegas-level poise finally returning as she smoothed her skirt.
“Are we in trouble? Are they going to kick us out? I want to be in the movie!” Doris peered around the corner, back toward the crew resetting the shot.
I grumbled, knowing she had a point. One misstep and they might toss us out on our keisters despite my obvious talent.
“Okay. New plan,” I said, spotting a side alley between the livery and the jail.
“We’re basically outlaws now. We gotta lay low until the heat dies down.
Let’s go hide out there for a little bit, and then we’ll find the guys to get us to our shot.
We’ve got history to be made. A legacy to leave behind etched into the archives of cinema for generations of viewers to watch us and—”
“Oh, Christ! Can it, Marge!” Alice turned and walked away. “Let’s just go hide for a while so everyone stops glaring at us.”
Her crimson skirt swished along the fake dirt road as the other widows hurried to keep up. I glanced back at the set one last time, my resolve to redeem myself and wow them with my movie mastery building in my chest like a war drum.
Look out, Jackson Harlow. There’s a new star in this here town, I thought to myself as I caught his eye, giving him a tip of my Stetson before rushing off after the widows.