“Collagen?” Dylan asked as Eloise.
Mallory nodded, her face hidden from view as she riffled through her tiny leather bag. “Boosts skin’s elasticity. You should really try it.”
“Thanks for that tip, but we don’t have collagen.”
Blair as Mallory finally looked up, and Dylan as Eloise took a step back, recognition washing over her. She let her mouth fall open, then close, remembering how she felt in the bowling alley when she realized Ramona was Cherry…how she felt when she realizedCherry had just been left by her mother when they met…how she still felt every time she looked at Ramona—as though the world tilted, turned, twisted around just to bring them right here, right now.
“Mal?” Dylan said, her voice a whisper.
Mallory frowned, eyes narrowed, clearly not recognizing Eloise at first, but then her eyes widened. Still, it was too late, and Eloise was embarrassed.
“Um, let me get that latte started for you,” she said, then busied herself while Mallory sank onto a pleather stool in her thousand-dollar suit, watching Eloise work. When Eloise finally handed over the drink, their hands met.
“Ellie,” Mallory said.
Dylan pressed her eyes closed, let her lashes brush her cheek for a second before she looked up.
“You remember,” she said, her voice quiet.
“I remember you,” Mallory said.
“Cut!” Gia called out, then walked over to the two actors as the cameras reset. She looked at Dylan for a second, then just nodded and knocked on the bar top. “Ready to go again in five minutes.”
Dylan didn’t dare react, just pulled her hand from Blair’s calmly and took a sip of water from her bottle under the counter. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her mouth when she spotted Ramona in the hallway, who beamed at her like she’d invented moonlight. Except that smiling while drinking water didn’t really mix, and a stream of liquid dribbled down her chin and onto her light blue blouse, staining it dark.
“Shit,” she said, trying to brush it off, but that just spread it around even more.
“Don’t do that,” Ramona said, appearing at her side with a towel. “Dab.”
Dylan laughed nervously but did as Ramona instructed. “I don’t think that’s going to help either.” Her hands still shook, and shecouldn’t tell if it was from adrenaline or nerves or the fact that she’d just fucked up her costume. Eloise couldn’t very well have a huge spill all over her shirt after very obviouslynothaving one the second before.
“Noelle!” Gia called.
Dylan glanced at her director, who was back to glaring.
“Great,” Dylan muttered so only Ramona could hear her.
“It’s okay,” Ramona said. “You’re doing great.”
“Yeah?”
Ramona met her eyes, smiled. “Yeah.”
“Okay, what do we have here?” Noelle asked. She put her hands on her hips, eyed Dylan’s shirt over her orange-framed glasses. “Easy.”
Then she disappeared into the back as quickly as she’d come.
“I guess that means she’ll fix it?” Dylan said.
Ramona didn’t answer, just stared after Noelle, her mouth slightly open.
“Ramona?”
She startled. “Yeah? Sorry,” she said as Noelle hurried back into view, a blue blouse in her hands.
“Always bring at least three of everything for this very reason,” Noelle said as she started unbuttoning Dylan’s shirt right there.
Which…was not a big deal. It was a shirt. Dylan had on a bra underneath, of course, and when costume mishaps happened on set, you changed in front of everyone. It was standard, and no one in Hollywood gave two shits.
