The Director's Cut by Js Taylor (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud txt) 📕

regular person. But with screen make-up, she looks incredible.

“Thanks,” Natalie smiles back. “Usually, I don’t mind using the set staff,” she confides. “So long as they come to my room, of course. If I come on set to be made-up, then all the crew and extras come by to stare at me.”

She shudders dramatically.

“But I checked in advance, and they’ve got that Scarlett girl on the hair,” continues Natalie.

She looks from left to right, as if filling me in on a secret. “And I refuse to have my hair pulled around by that witch,” she says. “We do not get along.”

I’m silently thinking that there is a long list of people Natalie does not get along with. But I can see some of her point. Scarlett was certainly heavy-handed.

In any case, I’m filled with relief that Natalie is ready. I was anxious we’d all have to wait for her to go through hair and make-up. And I can’t imagine James would have reacted well.

Natalie gives a large yawn, showing perfect white teeth.

“I can’t stand getting up so early,” she complains. “It’s not fair. Not all of us are morning people.”

I sense that the early start has driven away any good feeling which might have been fostered in Natalie last night.

“Did you see your wardrobe yet?” I ask.

Natalie is dressed in frayed white-denim hot pants, a low-cut gold top, and yet another pair of wedge sandals.

“Oh, I do my own,” she says airily. “I’ve done that since my third movie. I have very distinct colouring,” she adds, “and you just can’t trust wardrobe to get that right. I’ve ended up looking real washed out, because they’ve made dumb decisions.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I thought this would be just the thing for ‘Lisa in Spain’,” she adds, referring to her character’s name. “Don’t you think?”

I nod uncertainly. To my eyes, she’s dressed in her own regular style. But perhaps that’s the point. Maybe mega stars like Natalie, get cast to play themselves.

“Did you get anything to eat?” asks Natalie distractedly, staring across the square.

“Uh huh. A croissant.”

“Was that all there was?” she asks.

“I think so.” I cast my mind back to the catering van. “I think there was some omelette thing.”

Natalie rolls her eyes. “I told Carol,” she says, “to ship in the gluten free muffins they have in Wholefoods.”

She pats her tiny stomach. “If I have any of that pastry stuff, I will just bloat out like a balloon,” she sighs, shaking her head. “And what are they supposed to do, if I don’t fit any of my outfits?”

Her green eyes are fixed on mine, demanding my agreement. I nod uncertainly.

“Listen,” says Natalie, “I’m going to be a little late on set. Because, you know, there’s just some things I have to get sorted before we start.”

Her eyes sweep the square and land on a figure by the catering van.

It’s her assistant Carol, and best I can see, she’s brandishing a food box.

“Looks like she may be bringing your muffins,” I suggest.

“Uggh. Maybe,” says Natalie. “If only I could be sure of that.”

She whips out her phone and punches in a number.

“I’d better call her,” she mutters, pressing to dial, even though Carol is less than a hundred metres away.

I see Carol jump and fumble to take out her phone.

Natalie begins issuing urgent instructions into the handset.

“Everyone on set!” It’s James’s voice, and I swing around to see he’s assembled everything for the first scene.

Nervously, I make my way towards him.

I am suddenly feeling insanely out of my depth. I have never been on a location scene before. I have no idea where I should be standing, or what’s expected of me.

And worse, there are all these people I don’t know, wielding cameras, and arranging things.

Just get through today, Issy, I counsel myself. You’ll figure it out.

Callum arrives by my side and takes my arm.

“Nervous?” he asks, understanding instantly.

I nod, too anxious to even get the words out, but pleased beyond measure to have him at my side.

“You should be,” Callum says. “Every one of those cameramen are flesh-hungry cannibals.”

I laugh, despite myself.

“My first day on set,” he says, “I was so nervous, I had a stomach ache all day.”

He gives a nod to reassure me he’s telling the truth.

It’s hard to imagine Callum as a nervous young actor.

“How long did it take you not to be nervous?” I venture, feeling slightly better.

“I never stopped being nervous,” says Callum. “Every time I go on set, I’m terrified. It’s when you’re calm, that’s when you need to worry.”

He gives my arm a squeeze. “Frightened is the best way to be,” he says. “It means you care about your acting.”

I could hug Callum right now. He’s said exactly the right thing to make me feel better.

Well, almost. I feel the nerves start to grow again as we enter the shouting maelstrom of crew who run past us, as though we weren’t there.

“You’ll get used to it,” says Callum as they rush by. “We’re just puppets to them. We only start up when the cameras roll.”

I blink in surprise. It’s a strange remark, but he’s right. That’s what it feels like. It’s like we’re ghosts.

Then James steps towards us, and I feel my world light up.

“Hello,” I say, trying desperately to keep the violent smile from splitting my face.

My thoughts suddenly sweep to my absence of panties under the pencil skirt. I’d forgotten, in all the fear and excitement.

The memory brings a little sexy thrill with it.

“Hello, both of you,” says James. “We’re almost ready to start.”

Something about the atmosphere of the set and the arrangement of things - it seems to have brought James to life. I have never seen him look this energised, or excited.

He loves this.

Suddenly, I can’t wait to be part of his work.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I say, and I mean it.

James reaches out an arm to help guide me out of the path of a passing cameraman. And as he does so, his hand sweeps across my