“That’s great, Chloe, but I think we’re going to try something different for this take.”
I looked over at the director, Malcolm Cohen, who was standing beside the camera. He leaned in and spoke quietly to the DoP—Director of Photography—Patrick. They both nodded.
“Can I get wardrobe on-set please?” Malcolm called out.
Barbara, one of the wardrobe ladies, rushed onto the set.
Matthew Scott, the young guy I was shooting the scene with, met my eyes. I played a student at the university Faith’s character taught at, and Matthew’s character, Ryan, was a fellow student. In this scene we were sitting across from each other in the cafeteria.
“Is my shirt creased?” I asked.
Matthew shrugged. “Looks fine to me. Maybe it’s me.”
“No, you look fine.”
We both shifted to look at Barbara with curious expressions. Her eagle eye would be sure to see what we didn’t.
To my surprise, she shrugged too. “You look good to me.” She turned toward Malcolm.
“Thanks Barbara. Can I just get you to undo the top couple of buttons on Chloe’s shirt?”
Barbara was a motherly sort of woman in her fifties with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes. She always made me feel comfortable during wardrobe changes, and I knew all about her two kids, who were my age and attending college.
I frowned when she turned to me. Her mouth was set in a thin line.
She avoided my eyes as she leaned over to undo my buttons. I let her straighten the collar and she patted the shirt so it sat right.
She moved to one side and Malcolm immediately spoke.
“No, no, that’s not enough. Try another button and make sure the shirt sits so we can see some cleavage.”
I darted a surprised look at Barb and watched as she turned back to the director with a hand on one hip.
“I think it looks good the way it is,” she said.
“Well, I’m telling you it doesn’t,” Malcolm shot back, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.
Barb hesitated but then undid the next button on my shirt. “Sorry, sweetie,” she whispered.
I glanced down at my shirt and my frown deepened. “Malcolm? You can see the top of my bra. Barbara’s right.”
Malcolm waved Barbara off-set. “No, no, that’s perfect. You look great.”
I glanced down at my shirt again, or more accurately my now exposed chest, and felt my heart sink.
I was no stranger to Hollywood’s desire to sexualize me, and that included various directors and producers I had worked with during my mid-teens. Over the last five years I’d developed something of a sixth sense in avoiding the worst of them, helped by Mama’s fierce protectiveness. I was disappointed I hadn’t seen this coming. I decided to play the sweet card in the hope that maybe I was mistaken.
“Are you sure? I mean, if I were Matt’s character I know where my eyes would be during our conversation,” I joked.
I knew I didn’t have a big cleavage but my petite breasts were definitely on show for the world to see.
I heard Matt clear his throat and noticed he was being careful not to look at me. Or that part of me.
“Spot on, Chloe,” Malcolm said. “And Matt, make sure your eyes wander now and then when we shoot the scene.”
“That’s not what’s in the script,” I protested. I hadn’t meant for my voice to come out so loud.
Malcolm sighed. “What’s the problem, Chloe?”
I forced myself to breathe calmly before I answered him. “I thought it wasn’t that kind of movie, that’s all. You know, Ivy, my character, is studious and not worried about being one of the cool girls. That’s why she ends up helping to uncover the secret files.”
I flinched when I saw Malcolm shoot Patrick an impatient look.
“Studious can be sexy,” Malcolm informed us, and clapped his hands together to get everyone ready for the shot.
“Wait!”
Malcolm sighed again and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure why you’re having a problem with this.”
“I just don’t think it fits the character,” I persisted.
“Chloe,” Malcolm chided, “I don’t think you have anything to be shy about anymore, do you?”
The set fell silent and my cheeks reddened. Oh my God. Had he just implied what I think he had? That because there was now a video of me all over the internet with Johnnie’s tongue down my throat and his hands down my top, my body was public property?
I inhaled a shaky breath and, to my horror, found myself blinking back the sting of tears. It had been a long time since I’d been quite so rattled by a nasty director’s comment. To Matt’s credit, he looked upset on my behalf and he gave me a reassuring smile.
“You look fine,” he whispered, but I noticed he was careful to keep his eyes on my face.
I swiveled to face Malcolm again. “That’s not my point,” I said quietly.
He tilted his head and regarded me thoughtfully. “It’s not like you to be so difficult, Chloe.”
I blinked and leaned back in my seat. I looked down at my gaping shirt and swallowed.
“Fine,” I said. “I’m ready.”
*
“HE DID not.” Faith’s voice was practically a growl.
I nodded forlornly. ‘Difficult’ in Hollywood terms meant you were the sort of outspoken woman who wasn’t considered nice.
‘Nice’, of course, was code for being the sort of actress who just went along with everything she was told. The whole point being that ‘nice’ actresses were guaranteed more jobs on account of them being so nice.
Up until now I had always been considered a ‘nice’ actress. When I’d been confronted with uncomfortable moments like this in my past, relying on my sweetness usually meant people’s efforts to objectify me could only go so far. Maybe getting older finally meant losing some of that sweetness after all.
“Do you want me to speak to him? We all know I’m difficult.”
I observed Faith and smiled weakly. We were in her trailer and she was wearing one of those power suits again that made me want to call her ma’am. Her dark eyes sparked with anger and she was gripping the edge of the table in such a way that I felt sorry for the table.
“No, it’s OK,” I told her. “I just needed to tell someone.”
Faith released the table and strode over to stand in front of me. She placed her hands on my shoulders. “You’re not imagining it. And I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Faith was always so self-assured, it seemed unusual for her to apologize for anything.
“I know, but the video upped the ante.”
Faith released my shoulders and leaned back against the counter behind her. “You’re all grown-up now and Hollywood prefers sexy over sweet. It just took them a bit longer with you because you actually are pretty sweet.”
“Obviously not anymore,” I joked.
“You’ve reached the age where your sexual currency has become more important.”
That was ironic when I still hadn’t slept with a man.
Faith took my silence for disbelief. “Trust me. The next ten or fifteen years your breasts and butt will get as much screen time as your face will.”
She sighed again and went to sit down at the table. “Hey, at least you’ve got years ahead of you where the movie roles will land in your lap. My sexual currency is running out.”
“What? You’re kidding right?” Faith was one of the sexiest people I knew.
She tapped her red nails on the tabletop. “I have to face it. I’m thirty-eight soon. Most of the female leads are played by women in their twenties and early thirties. I’m fast approaching middle-aged mother roles.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Faith smiled at my uncharacteristic oath. “Yep, total bullshit, but that’s Hollywood.”
I went to sit across from her. “I’m mad at myself for not buttoning up the shirt, but I was just so shocked when Malcolm brought up the video.”
“You’re not the first actress to be pressured like that. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“So is this what happens now? When I speak up, I’m ‘difficult’?”
“More than likely.”
“You’re difficult and you still get roles.”
“I’ve lost a few, too.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. Fortunately I have a good agent.”
“Well, I don’t want to be nice all the time either,” I told her, realizing now I’d said it out loud that it was true. “Especially if it means standing up for myself or having creative input.”
“Good for you,” Faith said, and I could tell from the gleam of admiration in her eyes that she meant it.
She held out her hand to me. It was an invitation.
I reached across the table and we shook.
She raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Welcome to the club.”
We laughed.
“Right,” she told me. “You’re finished for the day, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
She grinned at me. “This calls for a drink.”