Because if you’d told me that I would run into a beautiful woman at a random diner bathroom, and then that I’d magically be working with her a few days later, I wouldn’t have believed it. But she’s here, in the flesh, wearing extremely cute nurse scrubs.
Her long dark hair is pulled into a sleek, low ponytail and her ears are dotted with small diamond earrings. I don’t think she’s wearing any makeup, and yet she’s beautiful. I’m not exactly an expert or anything, but all the actresses on set wear stage makeup, which is layered on thick with bold colors swept across their eyelids and lips. This woman is fresh-faced.
And still the most beautiful woman ever.
But why? Why is she here? How did this happen?
Last night when we’d wrapped up filming, the producers agreed to hire a stand-in lookalike for Andrea Block’s role. It’s a bit unusual, but so much money has already been spent on this movie and cancelling everything for several weeks until Andrea’s arm is healed would waste a lot of money. So instead, they’re using an extra to dress like Andrea so we can film every possible scene we need to without her there, then when her arm is healed enough, the real actress will return to film all the scenes still left over. It’s a weird solution, but it works.
And now here I am, meeting the lookalike stand-in for the first time.
“I guess I should have realized something was up when I had to send my height, weight, and photo along with my job application,” the woman says, frowning in thought.
“What do you mean?” I ask. Behind us, Lucia answers her cell phone and then zooms off on the golf cart, probably going to put out another metaphorical fire.
The woman gestures to her clothing. “I thought I was accepting a job as an actual nurse.”
“What?” I say with a chuckle. “Why?”
She sighs and shakes her head. “It’s a long story.”
It’s a story I can’t hear any time soon because a crew member appears and directs us to the set, and soon this mysterious and beautiful woman is whisked off to hair and makeup. I talk with the director about his vision for the upcoming scene today. It’s one that’s sure to drive the audience wild. In the movie, I play the role of the grumpy landscaper who takes care of the park grounds at the lake. My character is actually a secret millionaire who likes the hard work of gardening, a fact that Andrea Block’s character is ashamed to find out once she judges me for being too poor and blue collar.
This is the scene where I’m shirtless, raking leaves across from the lake front coffee shop, and Andrea’s character is sipping coffee inside, ogling my sexy body.
I’m not being vain and arrogant here. I actually do have a sexy body. I’ve been training for months, unable to eat many carbs or sugar, while the film crew’s personal trainer whips me into a sculpted, mass of perfection. Don’t get me wrong, I’m usually in decent shape. I have been ever since I played soccer in high school—but I’ve never been inthisgood of shape. I have no body fat. I’m ripped all the time like the cover of some men’s fitness magazine. It’s exhausting. I spend three hours a day in the gym to stay this way. I can’t wait until filming is over and I can go back to being a regularly fit guy, instead of an insanely fit masterpiece.
When the mystery woman—which I have to call her in my head because I don’t know her name—appears from hair and makeup, they’ve put her in the same outfit that Andrea should be wearing and they’ve covered her long dark locks with a near-identical wig that looks like Andrea’s. From the back, you can’t even tell she’s a different person.
I try to catch her attention so I can smile and say hello as she’s walked into the fake coffee shop set, but she doesn’t notice. She looks a little freaked out, to be honest. I’m betting she’s never done any acting work before. But I’ll take working with a shy actress over the snobby brat Andrea any day.
I tell myself to let it go, to stop thinking of this woman. She doesn’t matter. She’s an extra. This set is filled with extras. I have a scene to film, so I take off my shirt, let a crew member spray me down with fake sweat, and I get to work.
Once the scene is done, I’m actually a little exhausted from raking the same leaves over and over again, but it’s finally time for a break. I know I shouldn’t, but I look around for Andrea’s body-double, finally finding her standing awkwardly by some lighting equipment.
“Hey,” I say, waving as I walk over. “Have you been to craft services yet? I’m starving.”
“What’s that?” she asks.
“It’s food,” I say. “You hungry?”
“I’ve been sitting on a film set staring at the same empty cup of coffee for four hours while you raked leaves,” she says. “I’m starving.”
I laugh and motion for her to follow me. “Right this way, uh—what’s your name?”
“Annie,” she says.
“Nice to meet you, Annie.”
She nods once. “And you’re Trevor Owens.”
“Yes, I am.” I run my hand over my head. “It’s weird that everyone knows who I am but I don’t know who they are.”
“Is that why you were dressed like a fashion disaster wearing sunglasses in a small town diner?”
I stop, nearly tripping over myself, then I regain control of my body again. “So… you recognized me?”
“Not right away, but eventually.” She glances at me for just a moment before looking away, just a small split-second look. But even in that short time, her gaze makes my stomach burst into butterflies. “My friend was talking about the movie getting filmed here and she showed me a picture of thefancy movie star guy,” she says, her voice getting sarcastic at the end, “and I suddenly realized the movie star was the same jerk who almost made me pee myself in public.”
