Finding June (13 page)

“June, you know you’re ten times prettier
than any of them,” Joseph said matter-of-factly, making me blush. I
was immensely glad I was lying on his shoulder so he couldn’t see
it.

“I don’t know about that, but thank you,” I
answered modestly. Joseph gave me a tight one-armed squeeze and I
nestled my head against his chest, still staring up at the
now-purple sky. I could hear his heart beat speed up a bit but
pretended not to notice.

“We should probably get going,” Joseph said a
bit regretfully.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s getting
cold,” I agreed. As we stood up, Joseph took off his grey cardigan
and handed it to me. I accepted it gratefully and helped him fold
the large quilt.

“Thank you for today,” I said sincerely as we
walked back to his car in the fading twilight.

CHAPTER 11

On Saturday, Gran signed me up (without my
knowledge) for her own personal acting lessons. We went over the
script for the first episode about a million times, all the while
eating disgustingly healthy food, forcing ten bottles of water into
my system, and putting all manner of odd food beauty remedies on my
face. By the end of the day, I was worn out and smelled faintly of
pineapple—a smell I was quickly growing to hate.

I scrubbed my face until it was red and shiny
before falling down onto my bed with a loud sigh. It was dark
outside of my window and I couldn’t help but feel that my weekend
had just started and was already almost over. It was funny how time
did that. If you’re looking forward to something, it always takes
ten years to arrive, but the second it comes, it’s over before you
have time to blink.

I hadn’t bothered drying my hair after my
shower that night. I figured that with church starting at ten, I’d
have time to do it in the morning. My wet, springy curls fell
across the back of my neck, making me shiver as I drew my comforter
tighter around me. I closed my eyes and tried desperately to sleep,
but no matter how persuasive I was at willing myself to fall
asleep, it just wouldn’t happen. Every time I tried to drift off,
I’d think of Monday. I could see Lukas and all of the other cast
members staring at me like I was an idiot for some little faux pas
or other. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that once I was
there and actually filming, I’d be all right. It was the waiting
that was killing me.

Emitting a low grumble, I turned off the lamp
on my bedside table and picked up my phone, determined to get some
comfort.

Angry face,
I texted Joseph, wondering
if he could pick up on what I was trying to say with such an
obscure hint.

It was always fun seeing how well Joseph knew
me. Most of the time I could say one phrase to him like "jasmine
soap" and he’d reply, "You’re right, green would be a nice color
for your bedroom wall." That was just the kind of friendship we
had. So I wasn’t at all surprised when I received a reply from
Joseph one minute later that said,
June, they have tons of
people watching the monitors. They’ll tell you if you look like
you’re thinking too much.

It was a sad (but true) fact that whenever I
was concentrating, I made a face that resembled a scowl. Joseph was
the first one to point it out to me when we started acting
together. Ever since then I’d been trying to reverse this cruel
trick of nature. Unfortunately, every now and then there was just
nothing I could do. The scowl would present itself.

It’s scary how well you understand me,
I answered, yawning quietly into the darkness of our house.

I speak June fluently. I’ve had 16 years
of classes,
was his instant response. I smiled to myself and
nestled down into my fluffy art nouveau comforter, suddenly finding
that sleep was within my reach. I held my phone to my chest, closed
my eyes, and allowed my dreams to take me.

*****

Sunday passed with lots of encouragement from
Joseph all throughout church. This encouragement came in the form
of little doodles scribbled on the back of the sacrament program,
but as much as I appreciated it, nothing could prepare me for the
sense of dread and sheer panic that I felt as Gran drove me to the
studio on Monday morning.

Gran had picked me up right after seminary
with Joseph shouting, “It’s okay to look like a fool,” as we drove
away, causing Gran to look over at me quizzically. I waved away her
unsaid questions and closed my eyes, trying to keep myself from
throwing up from all of the excitement. My actual call time was
seven o’clock, so leaving right after seminary at six was worrying
me a bit.

“Do you think we’ll hit a lot of traffic?” I
asked anxiously as I stared at the glowing numbers on the car
clock.

“It’s L.A., Bliss. The only way we wouldn’t
hit traffic is if it was the end of the world . . . although even
then I think we’d probably still have trouble,” she replied evenly.
I could tell she was attempting to hide any emotion in her voice,
fully aware that the slightest misunderstood tone might send me
into full breakdown mode.

Even with the normal L.A. rush hour traffic,
we made it to the studio with enough time for me to stall in the
car for five minutes until Gran forcibly pushed me out. I had
already gotten off to a late start that morning, realizing much too
late that I had to have my hair washed before I got to the studio.
And so, terror bubbling up within me, I ran into the makeup and
hair trailer, panting and clutching my purse.

“Are you all right?” Candice asked
skeptically when I entered. I had totally forgotten that she was
the head of the makeup department and it was nice to see a
familiar, if not entirely friendly, face.

“Running late,” I managed between deep,
gasping breaths. She looked me up and down, assessing what she had
to work with, I guessed.

“Well, I’ll go tell them you’re here and find
out where they want to stash you,” she said dryly. “Sit down and
take off your coat.”

I plopped down in the barber chair in front
of the light bulb-lined mirror as she walked out of the trailer. I
looked over the stacks of makeup, brushes, and odd things that I
didn’t recognize and suddenly realized how real this whole thing
was. Looking over my shoulder to make sure Candice wasn’t on her
way back, I pulled my phone out and snapped a quick picture in true
"fangirl" style. I quickly typed a message and sent the picture to
Joseph, closing my phone just as Candice re-entered the room.

“They’re running a little late,” she remarked
with a roll of her eyes, as if this was a usual annoyance to her.
“After I finish your hair and makeup, you can eat some breakfast.
Then come find me and I’ll show you where your locker is.”

“Thanks,” I said with a nervous smile.

“You really need to relax,” she said over her
shoulder as she unfolded a black plastic cape. She draped it over
the front of me and fastened it tightly around my neck. “This
really isn’t that big of a deal . . . I mean, it is, but you’re
going to be fine.”

I looked at her reflection in the mirror as
she stood behind me and ran her fingers through my hair, assessing
what she would do with it.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, but I just worry, you
know? Maybe I happened to read well the day I auditioned, but once
I start acting they’ll figure out it was a huge mistake,” I said,
confessing my fears.

“All right, do you want me to tell you
something that will make you feel a lot better?” she asked, to
which I nodded. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, because I don’t
want to be out of a job for being a set gossip, but Joann Hoozer
really isn’t that great of an actress,” she whispered
conspiratorially.

I turned around to look at her skeptically,
my hair falling out of her hands and across my shoulders. “What do
you mean?” I asked. I couldn’t really believe it was true since I’d
watched the show since day one, and Joann was always very good at
what she did. My only guess was that Candice was trying to make me
feel better about myself, and really, who was I to complain about
this kind gesture?

“I mean, she’s a good actress eventually, but
the director really has to work to get the talent out of her. She’s
mostly just a pretty face who can act if you’re willing to spend
the time it takes to help her,” Candice said with a shrug. “It'll
be good to have someone on set who’s just raw talent. You won’t
have to worry about them getting frustrated with you—anything you
could put them through, they’ve already gone through with her.”

I pondered this silently for a moment,
wondering if it really made me feel any better that they could
handle my bad acting just because they’d seen it before. Oddly
enough, at the end of my inner conflict, I discovered I was okay
with this. Still, one additional thing was bothering me.

“At least she’s got a pretty face to hide
behind,” I muttered, feeling very inadequate with my eyes that were
red and puffy from lack of sleep, and my hair that had turned
frizzy because I didn’t have time to dry it that morning.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Candice stated
matter-of-factly, though I did see a wisp of a smile form
fleetingly on her face. I got the feeling that was the most smile
I’d ever get out of her. “Now, down to business,” she said. She
instantly pulled me out of the little moment we had shared when I
saw the shiny reflection off of her metal scissors. Instinctively I
put my hands over my head and slouched down in the chair.

“What are you going to do with those?” I
asked, suddenly frightened on behalf of my hair.

“Relax. I’m just getting rid of the split
ends and cleaning it up a bit,” she answered in her trademark
monotone.

“But you won’t chop it, will you?” I
ventured, still not entirely sure I trusted Candice with the
scissors.

“If you don’t sit up straight I might,” she
threatened, causing me to instantly straighten my posture.
“Better.”

I tried to keep talking to Candice in order
to distract myself from the small chunks of dark hair falling on
the floor around me. Every snip I heard seemed to be taking off
more hair than I wanted to lose, though somehow my hair wasn’t
really looking any shorter. Candice might have actually known what
she was doing.

“If you’re the head of the hair and makeup
department, shouldn’t you be working on Joann Hoozer and Will
Trofeos first? Or are they not here yet?” I asked, slightly
confused (but definitely not complaining) about my VIP
treatment.

“Well, normally I’d be the one to work on The
Tall Ones, but they’re all too famous for me now. They bring in
their ‘crew’ of hair and makeup people so I get to work on the
extras,” she said disdainfully.

“Thanks,” I replied, matching her usual dry
tone.

“You know what I mean. It’s not as glamorous,
but it does mean I get to do lots of injury makeup, which is right
up my alley,” she answered with a grin, giving off more enthusiasm
than I had seen from her so far.

“Silver lining,” I agreed. “So when you say
‘The Tall Ones,’ you mean Will and Lukas?”

“All of them, really. They’re all too high
and mighty for me. Except for Benjamin and Ryan. I still do their
hair and makeup. Unfortunately,” she said, puckering her lips in
concentration as she continued to snip away at my hair.

“I think you secretly love them,” I remarked,
staring at my puffy, tired reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah, like a psychopath loves a murder,” she
answered with a scoff.

“Candice, you didn’t murder another extra,
did you?” I heard a familiar voice ask behind me.

“Get out of here Ryan. I’m not ready for you
yet,” Candice shot venomously at him.

“There’s nothing like the melodic sound of
Candice’s voice in the morning,” Benjamin said, walking into the
small trailer behind Ryan. “And look, an extra pair of seats just
for us,” he sang sweetly, beaming all the while at the scowling
Candice.

“And of course we have our favorite New Girl,
looking dashing as per usual,” Ryan noted, setting his coffee down
on the makeup table.

“If you didn’t bring me any coffee, you’d
both better learn how to do your own makeup and get out,” Candice
threatened, putting the scissors away and pulling out armfuls of
product and bobby pins for my hair. She began spraying things over
my head and wildly pinning my dark curls up as if she were
possessed by some demon hairdresser.

“Now that you mention it, we did bring you
some sustenance,” Benjamin said, taking one of the three remaining
cardboard cups from the holder. “And we brought New Girl a hot
chocolate since Ryan reminded me you don’t drink coffee . . . which
is weird . . . but I can get over it one of these days.”

I smiled over at Ryan, pleasantly surprised
that he had remembered the little detail he found so odd. “Thank
you,” I said to them both, gratefully accepting the hot chocolate
and hoping it would help me wake up without making me sick.

“Put that down. It’s makeup time,” Candice
said, just as I brought the cup to my lips to take a sip. I glanced
in the mirror and was completely taken aback by my reflection. My
hair was piled high on my head in a mass of curls with a few long
dark ringlets falling down my back and numerous stray curls framing
my face. The effect was breathtaking (without sounding too
conceited) and I was amazed that she was able to make it look so
nice so quickly.

“Wow,” I said simply, summing up my feelings
on her ability in those three letters. “Candice . . . you’re
amazing.”

She simply shrugged this statement off, but I
did see a faint ghost of a smile on her lips, as if she appreciated
this rare appreciation of her gifts. Picking up a black binder, she
looked it over quickly before snapping it shut again.

“We need you to be in full vaudeville costume
and makeup for the first scene you’re shooting, but the rest call
for more . . . normal looks. After you finish your first scene,
you’ll come back here and I’ll make you boring,” she said as she
tilted my head back, smoothing something as soft as heaven over my
skin.