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The space fell into that eerie silence, as I quickly adjusted back into position, face blank, pretending to be asleep.
I wish I could go to sleep.
“And Action!”
I lay there listening to the dialogue between Pretend-Nurse Dude and Cass’s ex-wife, as Cass’s daughter ran to my side grappling with my hand as the pretend machines beeped alarmingly in the background. It was slightly ridiculous, but once it had been cut and filtered and dramatic music added, the public would be crying ugly tears as Cass struggled to breathe.
And there was the pretend mask being jabbed onto my face.
“Cut!”
“Make-up!”
The make-up team shoved blush all over my face because I looked weird and dead. The director’s words, not mine. On the plus side, I had no dialogue since I was apparently unconscious.
“Con, can you relax the muscles around your eyes? You need to look totally relaxed, despite breathing.”
Welcome to the acting world. Play dead. Don’t breathe. Breathe! No, you’re breathing too much. Too little. You’re unconscious. You’re dead. No, you’re not.
I was half giggling under the make-up brush assault before the AD called it again, clapping the damn clapboard in my face.
“And Action!”
I was once again unconscious and let my mind wander. Matt. OK. There was something weird with Matt. Whenever I spent time with him, I behaved like a creep. I was constantly touching him. His face. His arms. And the things that came out of my mouth were totally off the wall. It was like there was static everywhere and my head was filled with white noise, erasing every coherent thought.
He had really nice lips. See? I needed my head examined.
I’d never had feelings for a bloke. For girls, yes. So many crushes. I’d even had a long crush on Caroline before she put a swift end to it, which was why I still adored her. She’d always been blunt with me and seemed to love me despite my terrible traits.
I liked when people were direct. It made expectations easy. Like with Tara Marie. She’d grabbed my chin—my slightly drooling chin, as she was bloody gorgeous—and told me to rein it in because she had a very,veryjealous girlfriend, and if I said or did anything inappropriate, she’d have my arse kicked. Her girlfriend was lovely, but the two of them together had been quite intimidating, making me back away with my hands in the air. Which was why Tara and I had hit it off and had produced that ridiculous pornographic excuse for a fashion shoot. I’d asked Lucia to email me the shots—for my private collection. They were absolutelynotthe kind of material I’d hang on my mother’s living room wall. Mum had all my headshots framed in the hallway. Action shots fromWhite Noiseadorned her office. Film stills from random projects were dotted all around the house. I should have one printed for Matt. A signed picture for his office desk perhaps? Like a thank-you. The thought made me smile and—
“Cut! Con, for fuck’s sake, what’s up with you today? That take would have been perfect, and then your cheek muscle spasmed! Get with the programme here! And again!”
Back in the room. Fuck. They should just go with the shots of Hamish. I bet he’d nailed this shit on a first take, whereas this was going to take me all day.
“And Action!”
Dead again. Slow, shallow breathing. Relaxed face.
Matt.
I wanted to shout at him. Tell him to get out of my head. But instead, I was remembering his hands on my back, soothing strokes, telling me everything was fine.
Nothing was fine. I was not…
Fuck. I’d done it again.
“CUT! Con! Another grimace! What the hell was that?”
And now I was getting on everyone’s nerves—even the child actor was staring at me with an annoyed look on her perfect little face.
“Sorry, I needed to cough.” I didn’t, but I was fucking this up.
Everyone was giving me evils, and I shuddered as I tried to get myself back in the zone.
The day got better; it actually did. Once I was out of that bed and in and out of make-up again, I managed to deliver the next scene, which made no sense. I was once again made up like some supermodel, not a sign of car crash on my face, and back in the hospital suite, now with different curtains and a different fake medic. A professional medical model was splayed out on the slab, laughing as make-up was applied to her ample breasts.
Yeah. I delivered. Thank God for that because actors had been killed off for less, and being unprofessional on set was not something I was proud of.
