Two weeks after our first meeting, I arrive on set. This is my first real set. They show me to the wardrobe trailer, which is filled with clothes that I’ve preselected for all the principal actors. It’s fall, so most of the colors are warm. I’ve organized them according to scene with today’s scenes at the front. There are three people in the scene – sixty-five year old patriarch, fifty-five year old matriarch and their famous son. I haven’t met any of the actors yet, but I have their basic sizes and measurements. I also picked out clothes in a couple of sizes smaller and bigger, just in case the clothes that I have here aren’t a great fit. I think I brought too much – I’ve been prepping for this day ever since I landed the job – but I want everything to go perfectly.

We’re shooting the first scene at a real house in North Hollywood. It’s a little bungalow, which is set up in a French country style. I’m glad that I got here about an hour earlier than I should have, because I used the hour to prep and gather my thoughts. I can barely contain my excitement, and my thoughts are running a mile a minute. After all the clothes and accessories are just how I want them, in order of my preference, I walk outside and head to the craft table. Time to meet some people, I say to myself.

The craft table is filled with bagels, donuts, cookies, a variety of fresh fruit and vegetables, including bananas, strawberries, sliced up oranges and grapefruits as well as bacon, scrambled eggs, and sliced cold cuts.

“This looks delicious,” I say to the woman next to me.

“Oh Chloe, you’re here already!” she says, turning around. I suddenly realize that it’s Barbara from the meeting.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you, Barbara,” I smile and we exchange hugs. Barbara is big woman in her early thirties. She has a beautiful face and disposition. Her smile is contagious.

“Are you settling in okay?” she asks. I nod.

“Yes, everything’s great. I have all the outfits set out. Just need the actors now.”

“Perfect. Well, they should be arriving soon.”

Barbara excuses herself and disappears into a sea of people buzzing around the set. I pour myself a glass of orange juice. I always crave something sweet when I’m nervous. Orange juice is at least somewhat healthy, right?

I thought that the craft table would be a good place to make a friend, but everyone looks rushed and busy. I decide to head back to the wardrobe section and wait until someone comes to see me.

Suddenly, my phone beeps. I pull it out of my pocket as I walk.

Good luck on your first day! Lila texts.

I smile. She can be quite self-centered, but she can also be super sweet. She knows how nervous I have been for this day. I’ve been worried about it ever since I got the job, and it was she who appeased my fears to a large degree. It was she who made me feel like everything’s going to be okay. Or at least, tried to make me feel that way.

Thanks! I text back.

And then, splat!

For a second, I don’t know what’s happened.

My phone crashes to the floor. I’m covered in orange juice.

“What the hell?” some guy yells in my face. “This is a set. You can’t just walk and text and carry orange juice around with you and not look where you’re going.”

“I’m so sorry,” I apologize. Though, I have my doubts that it’s really my fault.

My white tank top and skinny jeans are completely wet. I look over at the guy. He’s dressed in a white button down shirt, and a very nice pair of grey slacks. Both are drenched in orange juice.

“You should be. I’m just walking here and then this happens!”

And then suddenly, I get upset. “Hey, I already told you that I was sorry, okay? And I am.”

“Whatever,” he shakes his head and walks away.

“Oh my God,” a girl who looks like she’s in college runs up to me. “Don’t you know who that is?”

I’m blotting my tank top and jeans with napkins, all to no avail. Orange juice stains, badly. I need some club soda or baking soda or something, but I don’t know if I can get any here.

“What?” I ask.

“That guy you spilled orange juice on?”

“What about him?” I ask without looking up.

“That’s Finn Dalton. I can’t believe that Finn Dalton is here! What did he say to you?”

I stare at her as if she had lost her mind. “I yelled at him,” I say after a beat. She walks away from me, shocked to her very core. I just shake my head. No, she’s wrong. That wasn’t Finn Dalton. That couldn’t be. Tim said he was getting someone famous for the main role, but not Finn Dalton famous. What the hell would he be doing shooting a movie this little? The script is great, of course, but the budget is like half a million. If Okay Magazine is right, Finn Dalton doesn’t get out of bed for less than $20 million. No, that was just some guy who looks like him. I don’t know much about him, but I know one thing for sure. He’s an asshole.

I pick up my phone and head back to the wardrobe trailer. The screen is cracked – perfect! This day is not getting off to a good start. I slam the door behind myself and start to search through the clothes for something that I could wear today. The actors will be here any minute, and I need to look like a professional. The back of my head feels like someone is hitting it with a mallet. I let out a breath and realize that I’ve been holding my breath for some time.

Breathe. Just breathe, I say to myself. It’s moments like this that make me wish that I actually went out and got that cliché tattoo, with the words ‘Just Breathe’ on my wrist. It’s funny how often you actually forget to do just that.