similar close-up of Robert Dexter to send Jenna.
“I’ll look for you ladies around the set,” Hamilton said. “Maybe we can chat more between scenes.” His gaze shot back to Emily’s chest.
She forced a polite nod, resisting the urge to tug up the neckline of her dress. It seemed strange that with all the exciting people here they were hanging around with this man; Judith had said he was a hound. But Judith was batting her eyelashes and acting surprisingly vivacious. Maybe she thought Hamilton would help her secure more work, although the trade-off would suck. His attention was clearly focused below the neck.
Emily crossed her arms. She’d had a few boyfriends like Hamilton, much younger of course, but they’d been nothing but an aggravation, messing up her life and her confidence. She gestured at the emptying room. “They’re calling for background to leave now, Judith. We should join them.”
“You go on without me,” Judith said, barely turning her head. “You have that special skills audition. I want to hear more about Reckless. Besides, it doesn’t matter if I miss the shuttle, as long as I catch the Louisville bus tonight.”
Emily’s eyes widened. Judith had preached about following movie protocol yet now she intended to linger. On the other hand, why should she be concerned? The woman was a virtual stranger; they’d only met ten hours ago. Maybe she enjoyed flirting with married men—ones who were film financiers.
“Okay,” Emily said slowly. “Guess I’ll catch you later. Do you know when the bus leaves?”
“Seven thirty,” Judith said. “They have to feed us supper first. You should just go now.”
She tilted her head back toward Hamilton. “However did you cope with missing the Derby?” Judith gushed. “It must have been frustrating owning the best three-year-old in the nation. Knowing he couldn’t run.”
Emily stepped back, rather hurt by the abrupt dismissal. She’d been dumped, just when she was learning to appreciate her friend’s company. On the other hand, she now faced a pressing problem, one where Judith’s bossy presence would be a definite hindrance.
‘Show up in appropriate clothing,’ Dan had said. She certainly couldn’t audition for the groom’s role in heels and a golden cocktail dress. Since there was nothing in her day bag, there was only one option. And persuading the wardrobe department to lend her suitable jeans was probably a job best tackled alone.
“We have no record of any jeans requirement.” The wardrobe lady pursed her lips, scrutinizing her iPad. “Besides, background shooting is finished for the day.”
“It’s a new scene where I lead a horse.” Emily leaned further over the table, fighting a rise of panic. Wardrobe was the only place where she could scrounge up a pair of jeans, but she hadn’t realized the clothes were so strictly monitored. “They probably didn’t have time to add it,” she went on. “It shouldn’t be a big deal. I just need some jeans…and boots and a shirt, socks and a belt.”
The woman studied Emily, her eyes narrowing. “My supervisor is on a break. You better wait until she returns.”
“Oh, but there’s no time.” Emily waved her hand, rather relieved the supervisor was absent. “ He wants me ready in fifteen minutes.”
“Dan Barrett. Look, here are his instructions.” She tugged out Dan’s business card, embellished now with a time and scene number penciled on the back. She wasn’t certain how movie scenes were actually numbered, but the clapperboard by the pool had read one hundred and forty, so she’d jotted down one hundred and sixty-two.
The woman’s mouth tightened. “Scene one sixty-two. I hate it when they reschedule and don’t tell us.” Shaking her head, she handed the card back and turned to the clothes racks. “What are the specifics? Groom or exercise rider?”
“Groom,” Emily said, taking Dan’s handy business card