“Joy, do you think you’re having a reaction to the makeup?” Sam asked, the concern in her tone obviously authentic as she studied Joy’s face. “If it’s going to happen, it usually presents itself right away, but it’s not unheard of for actors to start developing sensitivities to certain brands.”
“I have no idea. I’ve had a stressful few days, but honestly, I’ve never had this reaction to stress before, so I don’t know.” She sat back in the chair and closed her eyes. Exhaustion washed over her, and she wished with everything she had that she could just go home and fall into bed.
“I bet it’s her diet,” Prissy said gleefully as she clasped her hands together. “I’ve heard fried food can do that to a person.”
“I don’t eat fried food,” Joy said wearily.
“Oh? My mistake. I thought since you had those extra pounds that you were one of those all-you-can-eat seafood platter lovers.”
“Oh, for the love of Peter, Paul, and Mary!” Joy jerked upright in her chair. “Just stop talking, Prissy. No one wants to hear it.”
Prissy narrowed her eyes and moved closer to Joy. In a low, warning voice she said, “Careful, Joy. In addition to your bad skincare, you’ll develop a reputation for being hard to work with. You don’t want that, do you?”
Anger coiled in Joy’s gut, and it was if the dam of emotion she’d been holding back the past twenty-four hours shattered, and all of her restraint vanished. “Oh, shut up, you hateful bitch!”
There was silence in the tent as Prissy and Sam stared at her opened mouthed. Then Sam let out a loud snicker before clasping her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle it. Prissy turned her scathing glare on the makeup artist and said, “You’ll be lucky if you aren’t fired by the time the evening is over.”
“Just let it go,” Joy said, tiredly. “This is between you—”
“Do. Not. Talk. To. Me,” the actress spit out, her face so red the color clashed with her orange blouse.
“I see. So it’s okay for you to antagonize Sam and me, but neither of us are allowed to call you on it?” Joy shook her head. “You need to grow up, Prissy.”
“Grow up?” she said incredulously. “A forty-eight-year-old newbie to the industry is telling me to grow up? How dare you?”
Joy opened her mouth to defend herself, but Prissy threw her hands up in the air, stomped her foot, and yelled, “Finn, I can’t work under these conditions. Let’s see if the know-it-all can do the damned scene by herself!”
She spun on her heel and stalked out of the tent.
Joy and Sam moved to the door of the tent and watched Prissy arguing with the director before she hurried off to the small adjacent parking lot.
“Oh, no.” Joy sighed as Finn Chance glared in the direction of the tent.
Scowling, he hurried toward Joy and erupted with a loud, “Joy! What the fuck?”
Joy winced and cowered back into the tent even though he had obviously already spotted her.
He tore into the tent, ranting about losing money and he should’ve known better than to cast someone with no experience. “Where’s the professionalism? How the hell are we going to meet our budget and timeline if no one is here to film?”
“I know you’re upset,” Joy said calmly. “But I would like to point out that I’m the only one who is here and ready to work.”
He stopped pacing and stared at her. Finn Chance was a tall man with a full head of black curly hair. Normally his blue eyes were the color of the ocean, but today they were dull gray and full of impatience. “Do you think I’m blind? Obviously, you’re here. But our main star just walked out because you two can’t get along. Fix it. Or else I’ll recast you.”
Joy gaped at him. “Recast me? But we’ve already filmed half the movie!”
“Don’t test me,” he warned. “There are hundreds of actresses in your age range who will do this for far less than we’re paying you. The only reason you got this job is because the perfume campaign went viral. But don’t think that kind of hype lasts forever. Get it together and get Prissy back here first thing Monday, or you’re out.”
“Yeah. Sure,” Joy said, agreeing. She knew what to do to calm Prissy down. It involved groveling and coercing Joy’s non-boyfriend into going to Prissy’s cocktail party, but she could do it. The thought of kowtowing to the director in front of her after he berated her for Prissy’s bad behavior was infuriating. The fact was, acting had always been a dream of hers, and she’d be damned if she’d let Finn Chance or Prissy Penderton take it away from her. “We’ll be here Monday.”
“Make sure you are.” He started to leave but then glanced back and added, “And do something about your face.”
Joy stood there stunned as she watched him go.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Sam hissed, “Bastard.”
“I was going to go with something a little stronger, but that works.” Joy closed her eyes and tried to push aside the crushing self-doubt. She worked up her courage and looked at Sam and her perfect creamy skin. “I have no idea why this is happening, but do you have any suggestions on how to clear it up?”
“Come with me.” Sam led Joy over to her station. “I have an herbal mixture that should do the trick. All it takes is twenty-four hours.”
“Let’s do it.”
An hour later, with her face tingling more than was comfortable, Joy called Hope and asked her to pick her up in a half hour. Then she took off to the beach, in desperate need of some water therapy.
The wind whipped off the California coast, blowing her long blond hair behind her as she walked along the shore. Images of Harlow flashed in her mind, and she couldn’t help the crushing worry for the young woman she hadn’t even had the opportunity to meet. Suddenly her problems with the movie director seemed insignificant.
She stopped near a large rock outcropping and stared out at the horizon. Normally the sea energized her. It filled her up and helped center her so that she felt confident in her life choices. But in that moment, she was completely unsettled. Her new career wasn’t everything she’d dreamed. She was single now; separated from the man who’d emotionally left her years ago. She’d imagined herself dating, having a hot affair or two, and then maybe finding someone else to settle down with. Maybe that was all Troy was—a hot affair. Wasn’t it better to not have any expectations from the man who hadn’t called her in weeks?
If it were up to her, she’d write him off completely. But now she needed to make Prissy happy, so that she’d make their director happy. Even though Joy wasn’t sure she wanted to keep acting, she absolutely wanted to finish the movie and give it everything she had. If it didn’t work out or she decided it wasn’t for her, she could always go back to her position as vice president of the Arts Market. Technically, she was still the vice president, but she’d taken a leave to make the movie. Or maybe she could open an art gallery. Premonition Pointe was growing, and she’d considered opening a handmade gallery before.
“This doesn’t have to be forever. Neither does Troy.” Just saying the words out loud settled some of the turmoil spiraling through her. The most important things in her life weren’t things at all. People were important, specifically her kids and her coven and now Carly and her niece. Since the vision, she’d felt a connection to Harlow that wasn’t going away.