Chapter 4
Cal
Cal was not a morning person. Like most members of his profession, he tended to stay out late and get up late.
He was a big enough star now that his call sheets didn’t usually have him coming in until the late morning or early afternoon, just how he liked it.
Unfortunately, with his new role of mentor added to his list of responsibilities, it looked like early mornings would be a little more frequent for the time being.
At least his night hadn’t been as late as he’d anticipated.
Thanks to Monty’s little scene and Morgan’s evident fatigue, Cal was home by eleven.
He’d spent the rest of his evening and the first part of his morning reading through the script Ezra had given him.
He had to admit the picture sounded fun, and he liked the character he was slated to play, except for a particularly glaring detail: he was going to play a dance instructor.
He thought back to Monty’s tipsy teasing that he couldn’t even dance—how the hell was he supposed to pull off being an expert?
After he finished breakfast, he got dressed, keeping it casual with a knitted vest, pressed button down shirt, slacks with crisp creases down the front, loafers, and a tie. He was on his way down the stairs when his secretary, Fred Forsythe, showed up.
“I’ve got your schedule for the day, and some messages,” he said, passing over a small stack of papers.
Fred had come on the recommendation of Edie Haywood, Cal’s best friend—and ex-wife.
He was a tall, wiry young man who wore wire-rimmed glasses, smoked more than he should, and delivered the occasional sage advice with a flourish of sarcasm.
Cal wasn’t sure if he could count an employee as a friend, but if he could, Fred would have been near the top of the list.
He took the stack, reading through the schedule first. “Meeting with wardrobe, costuming, choreographer.” He sighed and tucked the schedule into his pocket. “This is going to be a goddamn disaster.”
Fred plucked a gold cigarette case out of his pocket. “That’s the spirit.”
“You honestly think I can star in a musical without turning it into a flop?”
His secretary didn’t respond as he selected a cigarette, lit it, pocketed the case, and then took an unhurried drag.
“I honestly think Ezra Allen is one of the savviest producers in town,” he said at last. “They’ve never produced a flop and I doubt they’d start now, especially with you.
Besides, defeatist is a bad look on you.
So is that tie, but that’s neither here nor there. ”
Cal rolled his eyes. “You can’t have the tie.”
Fred blew out a long stream of smoke in response.
Cal flipped through the rest of the stack and then passed them back. “Tell my sister I won’t be able to visit her anytime soon. Tell my lawyer that I’m good with his suggestion. Tell Edie that I’m mentoring a new hire so I’ll have to miss her party.”
“She’ll tell you to bring him with you.”
Cal thought back to Hilliard’s comment about Morgan being his date and how the young man had blushed at the teasing. He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Don’t see why not. You two looked good together.”
“That’s exactly why not.” Cal had no intention of having their names linked any more than they already would be. Not unless the studio started demanding it, of course.
Fred flicked the cigarette in a bored way. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s it.”
“Remember you’re meeting Edie for lunch today. The car’s ready for you. Don’t be late.”
* * *
Jesse Morgan was waiting for him when he arrived at the studio, just as punctual and put together as he’d been the night before.
“How are you feeling?” Cal asked as he stepped out of the car.
“Good. Tired.”
“Ready for another whirlwind day?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he responded with a grin. “I don’t know much beyond meeting you here.”
“We’re due in wardrobe first. Have you been measured already?”
“Yep. Although apparently the designer wasn’t there at the time.”
Cal nodded and gestured toward the wardrobe department. “Shall we?” Then he led the way into the building.
They passed rows upon rows of various costumes: gowns, petticoats, armor, robes, bathing suits, tuxedos, capes, feathers, and furs.
Shelves lined the walls, filled with wigs, hats, masks, and shoes.
There were baskets with belts, scarves, gloves, glasses, and jewelry.
Costuming assistants scuttled between the rows, pulling pieces out or returning them.
The whir of sewing machines could be heard from the back of the building.
Cal caught the attention of one of the assistants, explaining that they had an appointment.
The assistant nodded her understanding and disappeared behind a stack of fabric.
Cal glanced at his companion. Morgan was peering around the room with interest. When he noticed Cal watching him, he said, “I didn’t fully take it all in when I was here before.”
Cal chuckled. “I’d say you get used to it, but I’m not sure I have. There’s always something new to look at, it seems.”
Morgan nodded. Then he pointed at a mask on a nearby shelf. “I don’t know how long that one’s been there, but I’m pretty sure it’s haunted.”
Cal barked out a laugh that echoed against the high ceiling despite the ambient noise. “I’m pretty sure you’re right.”
The assistant Cal had flagged down earlier popped back into view to say that Mr. Ramos would be with them shortly.
“So what are we here for if I’ve already been measured?” Morgan asked.
“It’s common to spend some time directly with the designer, especially if you’ve never worked with them before. I’ve been here for years, but I’ve never worked with Mr. Ramos. I think I’ve worked with every other designer at the studio though.”
“Why is that?”
Cal cleared his throat. “Ramos primarily does musicals.”
Morgan nodded his understanding. He looked like he was about to ask something else, but then Josue Ramos appeared from behind a rack of dresses.
He was an attractive man with medium brown skin, black hair, and a thin mustache.
He approached them both with an appraising expression and held out his hand.
“I am Josue,” he began, his Mexican accent thick. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Campbell. And you must be Mr. Morgan?”
“Yes, sir, that’s right.”
Josue beamed and straightened. “You have very handsome coloring, Mr. Morgan,” he said. “I think dark colors will suit you best, warm shades,” he added to the assistant standing beside him. Cal hadn’t even noticed her arrival.
“Won’t the film be in black and white, sir?” Morgan asked dubiously.
Josue chuckled. “You will need to wear colors when you are doing publicity shoots and interviews. And it is always good to know one’s colors, no?”
Without waiting for a response, he began circling Morgan.
Cal could tell from the way the man’s expression sharpened that his magic was being used.
People so often had small tells when they employed their magic; he’d seen it when Edie would make a particularly witty and unscripted comment during filming or when his father would carve a figure out of wood.
He saw it now as Josue eyed his new live mannequin, making comments to his assistant about the breadth of the man’s shoulders and the shape of his head.
“No caps,” he said somberly. “He doesn’t have the forehead for it.
Fedoras?” He moved his hand back and forth in a see-saw motion.
“Maybe. Top hats, definitely. He could use the height.”
Morgan seemed a little unsettled by the assessments, but he didn’t argue with them. Cal felt just as unsettled when Josue turned a critical gaze to him.
“Light colors. Shades of blue will look best,” Josue pronounced.
Cal wasn’t surprised; he’d frequently been dressed in varying shades of blue. Apparently they brought out the color of his eyes.
Josue began circling him, too. “Long torso,” he commented to his assistant.
“Suits and coats will need to be adjusted accordingly.” He continued, pointing out Cal’s stomach, shoulders, and arms with the same matter-of-fact tone.
He commented on the shape of Cal’s jaw and the length of his neck before finally proclaiming himself satisfied.
Then he shooed them both out as if they’d been holding him up.
Morgan gave a short but expressive whistle as the door shut behind them. “Is it always that intense?”
“Not really, no,” Cal admitted. “He’s definitely more intense than most of the others.”
Morgan kicked his foot up onto a low planter and leaned over to tie his shoe. “Maybe it’s because he works on musicals. I imagine our costumes will need a certain amount of give due to the movement.”
Dread swirled in Cal’s gut. “Yeah, perhaps that’s it.”
The other man must have caught something in his tone because he glanced at him over his shoulder. “Nervous, sir?”
Cal shrugged with forced casualness. “You heard Monty last night. I can’t dance.”
Morgan dropped his foot back to the ground and straightened. “Well, I’ve never acted or been in a movie before. So I reckon we’ll both be learning something new.”
Cal laughed and led the way toward the makeup department. “I reckon you’re right.”
Morgan smiled up at him and Cal felt his insides fizzle unexpectedly, similar to how he’d felt when the man had flashed his smile at the cameras at the club.
The makeup designer seemed just as impressed with Morgan’s looks, considering how much she had to say about them.
Meeting with her went similarly to the costume designer, except Cal was blissfully exempt from her scrutiny as they’d previously worked together.
Like with Josue, the makeup designer had a glint in her eye as she studied Morgan appreciatively that suggested her magic was being used in full force.
She cocked her head as she studied Morgan’s face. “Would you be open to getting that widow’s peak removed?”
He looked surprised and responded with an immediate, “Absolutely not.”
She shrugged, unperturbed. “Never hurts to ask. White eyeliner on this one might be helpful,” she muttered to her assistant. “Widen the eyes a bit. But not too much. Don’t want him to look younger than he already does.”
Morgan frowned.
“Well-shaped lips,” she went on. “Good strong eyebrows.” She rattled off some numbers that apparently identified the correct color for his skin tone, lip tone, and blush, and after that Cal lost track of the commentary.
When she was done with them, Cal led the way back out and towards the music department.
Morgan’s mood had definitely soured after the makeup designer’s assessment.
Cal took a deep breath, feeling his chest grow warm with his magic.
He gave it a light shove toward his companion.
They walked in silence down the gravel path, with Cal nodding in greeting when he passed people he knew.
There were a number of curious looks thrown their way, but Cal didn’t think Morgan needed any unnecessary introductions at the moment.
So he continued to gently push his magic out, hoping the other man would feel calmer by the time they reached their next destination.
His magic took effect sooner than he’d anticipated. Morgan let out a huff and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “So what’s next?” he asked, his tone noticeably lighter.
“Music department. We’re meeting our choreographer.”
Then Morgan’s expression brightened so much that Cal felt his own dread melt away just a bit, as if Morgan had pushed Cal’s own magic back at him.