Will the Real Abi Sanders Please Stand Up? by Sara Hantz Read Free Book Online Page B

going to be doing some real, filmed stand-in work for Tilly. We’re on location in the Hills, and it’s taking hours to get me ready. I’ve been in the make-up trailer since five in the morning, and I’m telling you, if I don’t get out of this chair soon, I’ll pee my pants.
    As for what they’ve done to my broken nose, it’s incredible. Mel’s assistant has been working on me for a long time, including adding silicone to the sides—to flatten it, she said, and give it the appearance of being smaller. Well, I’m all for that, but it was a bit worrying when she covered half my face with something that looked remarkably like the filler Dad uses at home to fix holes in the wall. And now my face feels all stiff. I wonder if this is what Botox is like. But I can’t deny that the end result is perfect.
    “Sorry, Mel.”
    “Abi. This is the real side of movie work. Lots of hanging around waiting to be called on set. Hours in make-up. Nothing like people imagine. So if you want to make a career of this, I suggest you get used to it. And…” she narrows her eyes slightly. “Learn to keep still.”
    A career of it? She’d never believe me if I told her that, up until a few weeks ago, a career in the movies was the furthest thing from my dreams as was possible. Now? It’s anyone’s guess.
    “Sorry, Mel.”
    “Don’t keep saying sorry. If you want to survive here, you’ve got to stand up for yourself and not keep apologizing for everything. No one will respect you for it.” She gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’re a good kid. Remember that. And take no notice of anything Tilly says.”
    That’s easy for her to say. It will be hard not to take notice of Tilly. And what’s with the stand up for yourself bit? Doesn’t she know I get enough of that talk when I’m at home or with Liv and Matt? What I’m doing now, actually being a stunt double, is me standing on my own two feet and pushing myself further than I’ve ever been before, and that includes the kickboxing.
    “I’ll try,” I say, trying to stop the grimace from showing on my face as yet another ear hair is pulled.
    Mel turns her head. “Bring over the wig,” she calls to her assistant.
    She swings around the chair I’m sitting in so I can no longer see my reflection, and then takes hold of a wig that is very long and very dark, almost black, and a replica of the one Tilly has been wearing in her scenes. She stretches out the rubbery head-cap. While she’s pulling it over my head, she accidentally catches my scalp with her nail, which hurts big-time, but I bite on my bottom lip to keep from calling out, determined to keep my game face on.
    In my peripheral vision, I notice Mel’s assistant staring at me. Actually, more than staring, gaping—her eyes are wide and her mouth is open.
    What’s wrong? I hope my nose hasn’t slipped. Or the ears. Just the thought of having to have them reapplied today is causing me to break out in hives. Tomorrow is soon enough to experience this process again.
    Mel must also catch sight of her staring, because she glares at her. “Call wardrobe and say Abi’s on her way, then go to the supplies cupboard and stock up.”
    “Okay,” Mel says, changing the subject. “Let’s get you to wardrobe. You know where it is?” She takes hold of my arm and helps me off the chair, marching me toward the door. So I don’t even get chance to see what I look like.
    “Yes. But I’m just going to go to the bathroom and grab a quick breakfast, if that’s okay?”
    “Okay? Of course it’s not okay. For goodness sake. Didn’t you listen to anything I said? This isn’t a playground. We’re on a tight schedule. You have to be on set by eight. Which is in precisely…” She glances down at her watch. “Which is in precisely twenty minutes. Go to the bathroom, if you must, then get your butt over to wardrobe. Breakfast can wait.” She shakes her head then turns on her heel and walks toward the sink.
    I pull out