Chapter Nine
Ridge
I’ve been dying to lay eyes on beautiful Beverly all week.
Standing outside the studio doors, I pace on the asphalt and scan the parking lot for the umpteenth time.
Arthur left twenty minutes ago in a black golf cart to pick her up from visitor parking.
The massive studio grounds are hard to navigate if you don’t know where you’re going, and the lack of street signs and maps is intimidating.
Most visitors are picked up, so they don’t get lost and end up on the wrong sound stage.
“There she is.” My face splits into an enormous grin.
I spot Arthur and Beverly sitting side by side in the front seat, her red scarf flying like the tails of a kite behind her in the brisk morning.
And isn’t that just like her? Sitting next to my assistant instead of being carted around in the backseat like a Hollywood brat?
After being in Atlanta for well over a month, I know by the afternoon we’ll all be shedding our coats, hats, and scarves due to the typical southern warm-up.
The weather in the South is downright drunk this time of year.
“Hey!” I wave with enthusiasm. What is it about this woman that has me so animated? I feel twenty years younger.
Beverly’s grin is instant. “Hey, Ridge.”
I offer my hand and help her off the cart. She immediately lunges at me, throwing her arms around my neck in a big hug.
I chuckle. “Miss me?” I whisper into her ear. Even though we’ve been texting and calling each other for the last five days, it sure feels good to see her in person again.
“Of course, silly.” She pulls back and playfully swats my arm.
“How was Arthur’s driving?” I quip, shooting my assistant a cheeky grin.
“Superb,” Beverly replies.
Arthur stands at attention and lifts his chin into the air like a royal. “I’ll have you know, I’m not only a competent golf cart chauffeur, but I’m an excellent driver to boot.”
All three of us start toward the studio doors. “Yeah, when you remember you’re not in England and stay on the right side of the road,” I joke. We all laugh, including Arthur.
“Are you ready to see where the magic happens, Lovely?” I look right at Beverly to get her reaction to me using Arthur’s nickname. “Lovely” suits her. From her Southern charm and politeness to her flawless skin and natural beauty, she is the epitome of a lovely woman.
Her lips tip up into a gorgeous smile. “I was born ready.”
Arthur’s brow raises, and he looks right at me. “Well, then. Shall we?” He opens the door and makes a grand gesture with his hand, allowing us to enter first.
“Go ahead and take a look around,” I encourage.
The interior of the building is warm, the bright stage lights on full throttle, highlighting a kitchen set. A few crew members are milling around doing various odd jobs as Beverly curiously takes it all in. I lag behind, watching her with pleasure.
Crossing his arms at his chest, Arthur smirks. “Beverly is a breath of fresh air, isn’t she?”
I nod in agreement. “There’s a certain childlike wonder to her. She’s like this with everything.”
“Everything?” Arthur turns and eyes me, his British face highlighted by the stage lights. He’s taken his fedora hat off and holds it in his hand by his side.
“Yes. Everything. We could all learn a lesson or two by hanging out with Beverly.”
The two of us silently continue to watch her poke around the set.
She seems enthralled, gently touching the decorative props and investigating the appliances and kitchen gadgets, her dark hair drenched in light.
I remember what it felt like for me, too, when I excitedly stepped onto my first sound stage as an extra in a low-budget Hollywood film decades ago.
Taking a deep breath, I revel in the memory, my lungs filling with the verdant scent of fresh lumber, stale coffee, hot lights, and creative energy.
There is nothing else like it in the world.
“Tell me more about Live Oak Studios,” Beverly says with eagerness. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are bright with interest. She looks like she’s enjoying herself.
I shove my hands into my pockets and lean back on my heels. “Well, I heard there’s nearly one hundred and fifty acres across two adjacent campuses on this complex.”
“Wow.”
“I know. It’s also conveniently located near Atlanta-Hartsfield Jackson International Airport.”
“I’ll bet that comes in handy with all the A-list actors coming into town to film.”
“You betcha.”
“And this is your sound stage where the magic happens today, right?” she asks.
“Yes. Stage Three has twenty thousand square feet of space dedicated to filming our final scenes this week.”
“Speaking of which…,” Arthur interrupts, glancing at his watch and throwing a quick nod my way.
“I know, I know.”
“Do you have to go and get ready?” she asks.
“I do. But you’re coming with me.”
I boldly take her by the hand and pull her toward an exit door leading to the on-site dressing rooms. The hallway is a hubbub of activity with actors, makeup artists, and tech crews getting ready for the long day ahead.
“Here we are,” I say, standing outside my private dressing room.
Beverly’s expression fills with disappointment as she traces my name attached to the door with her fingers. “Where’s the star?”
“The star?”
“Yes. I thought being at a legit movie studio, they’d at least put a star around your name.”
I press my teeth into my lower lip to thwart off a big grin. “You’ve been watching too many movies.”
“Too many Ridge Wilson films if you want to know the truth.”
“Ha!”
I open the door with a flourish, the inside of my private dressing area vacant. But it’s only a matter of time before my hair and makeup team will arrive with all of their bags and totes.
“Have a seat.” I point to a comfortable couch pushed up against the wall.
Beverly slowly peels off her coat and scarf and lays them over the arm of the furniture. Sitting primly with her hands in her lap, I notice the large bulbs of the makeup mirror lights forming big orbs in her brown eyes as she continues to look around.
“It’s so… sparse,” she says.
“That’s how I like it. That way, I never forget anything. It’s clean and manageable.”
“Hmmm,” she ponders. “So now what happens? Where are your costumes?”
I open a tiny closet and show her. “My wardrobe is lined up in here. The costumer will be by after hair and makeup to tell me which ensemble I’ll be wearing for each scene. They leave me a few choices in case something doesn’t quite work out.”
She nods as if tracking with me. “So, two more days of filming, and then the party, huh?”
“Yep.” I join her on the couch and hold her hand, her face immediately flushing with pinkish color. “You’re still coming as my date, right?”
She dips her head and smiles. “Only if you’re sure you want to be seen with a lowly kindergarten teacher on your arm.”
“You’re not lowly, you’re lovely. And don’t you forget it.” I bring her hand up to my mouth and kiss her skin.
She exhales a deep breath and grins back at me.
“I want you to make yourself at home today. Arthur will have a lanyard with a guest pass for you to wear. He’ll also be your personal chaperone and escort you on and off the sound stage to watch me in action, so you won’t be alone.
And feel free to come and go as you please into the Green Room if you get hungry or thirsty. ”
“The Green Room?”
“Yes. It’s a large space down the hall where we sometimes hang out in between takes.
There’s always a huge assortment of snacks and drinks available.
The Atlanta Craft Services team has been outstanding to work with.
Live Oaks Studios is lucky to have them.
If they serve shrimp and grits again, you’ve got to try it. ”
Beverly laughs, and our eyes lock, the heat beneath my shirt seeping out of my collar.
“Seriously, I’m so happy you’re here today.”
“Me too.”
I lick my lips, tempted to cup her chin and kiss her on the mouth. But I don’t want our first real kiss to be in my dressing room. Instead, I gently tuck her hair over her ear, my fingers lingering against her cheek. “Sweet, lovely Beverly,” I whisper.