Good Time Girl. Kate O’Mara
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so had the monthly pay cheques. Jim had lived well beyond his means and funds were now seriously low. He knew he would shortly have to give up his rented villa and move to something smaller and cheaper in downtown Hollywood. He couldn’t bear to contemplate the thought. He revelled in this life style. True, Meriel had managed to get him a couple of guest roles in other popular TV programmes, but with success as a TV star went the usual trappings – the personal manager, the publicist, the accountant, the attorney, the Armani suits, the Gucci accessories, the status car, the housekeeper, the pool attendant, the gardener, the coke snorting … the coke snorting, that along with Consuela would have to go – unless, of course, he could get the Universal picture – that would solve everything. He was in with a chance, of that there was no doubt. He would have to clean up his act, of course. The girls would have to go, so would the booze and the coke – while he was making the picture – but, boy, what a time he would have afterwards.
‘Okay, okay, Meriel, don’t worry, doll, I can handle it.’ He stalled trying to get rid of her. His cock was getting bigger all the time and he felt ready to explode.
He finally put down the phone and hurled himself onto the bed. In no time he was ensconced in a sort of demi-paradise, happily sucking on the glorious breasts, his cock in turn being sucked by the soft lips of the platinum blonde. He was only dimly aware of an impending phone call, which might transform his whole life.
It was very early and bitterly cold. Claire shivered involuntarily as she dressed for her first day’s location filming in her tiny hotel room. She had driven down the previous night, arriving outside Maidstone around nine. The small hotel boasted only three stars and seemed deserted.
‘They’ve all gone out to eat,’ confided the receptionist. Then, seeing Claire’s slightly forlorn look, she added, ‘They asked for you when they got in from the day’s shoot,’ airing her recently acquired knowledge of TV terminology.
‘That was nice of them,’ said Claire, considerably cheered. She had hoped to break the ice before the morning’s work by briefly socializing with her fellow actors. An exchange of pleasantries over a night cap with Geoffrey Armitage would have calmed her nerves before having to play her first scene opposite him on the morrow. She had developed quite a crush on him after seeing him as Berowne in Love’s Labour’s Lost at Stratford when she was a schoolgirl. And now here she was – playing his rival and new romantic interest. It seemed extraordinary that she was to play opposite him. She was apprehensive yet exhilarated by the prospect.
‘And Mr Dudley was with them,’ volunteered the girl as an afterthought.
‘Oh yes, he’s the director. Well, thanks. I think I’ll go to bed now, I have an early start in the morning.’
‘The others are in the bar if you want to join them,’ the girl volunteered.
‘What others?’ asked Claire doubtfully.
‘I don’t know who they are. I didn’t recognize any of them’.
‘They’ll be the technicians – you know, the film crew.’
‘Oh yes,’ said the girl, losing all interest. ‘Would you like an alarm call?’
‘Yes please, five forty-five, and could I have some tea as well?’
‘Certainly, madam, and a morning paper?’
‘No thanks, I’ve got quite enough to worry about with the script.’
‘You’re the new romantic interest, aren’t you?’ queried the receptionist, who had kept a close eye on the free publicity in the tabloids.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ replied Claire, pleased to be recognized.
‘I hope it goes well for you.’
‘Thanks. I need a good night’s sleep to cope with it!’
She had, in fact, slept fitfully; she put it down to nerves. She was, she now realized, very nervous. She was shivering with apprehension as well as cold. After she had dressed in trousers, polo-neck sweater and boots, she scraped her hair back and fastened it with an elastic band. She looked at herself in the mirror. Pale, too pale. Never mind, the make-up would soon put that right.
There was a tap at the door – the chambermaid, a very young girl, with a tray of tea. Claire thanked her and poured herself some tea, warming her hands around the cup between sips. She listened to the news on the radio and went through the lines in her script over and over again. She had several scenes to film, all set in and around an auction room. There was quite a lot of dialogue and she was determined to be word-perfect on every occasion.
At 6.35, she put on her quilted waterproof coat, assembled her handbag, script and small holdall and, donning a pair of huge sunglasses, grabbed her room key and went downstairs. In the lobby she found Sonia waiting smilingly for her. They exchanged greetings and were shortly joined by Terri, the very pretty dark floor assistant. It was her job to make sure that everyone was in the right place at the right time, whether on location or in the studio. She greeted Claire with a cheery, ‘Hi, I’m Terri. Everything okay?’
‘Yes thanks, I’m fine,’ replied Claire, feeling anything but. The lobby was beginning to fill with people.
‘Glad to see you’ve got something warm on – you’re going to need it!’ Terri added. She herself was clad in ski wear. ‘I’ve got thermals on underneath,’ she confided. ‘Don’t worry, wardrobe will provide you with some.’
‘I’m very glad,’ smiled Claire with feeling.
‘Bus is here,’ called out someone.
Claire gradually began to realize as several other people, men and women of all ages, climbed into the minibus with her, that her companions were extras, crowd artistes who had been requisitioned to supply the background action in the day’s filming. She smiled at them in a friendly fashion and greeted them shyly. They responded in like manner. She wondered if they knew that this was her first day. Terri stood by the driver and counted the heads of her charges.
‘Are we all here?’ she called out anxiously.
Claire was about to tell her that Sonia and the rest of the make-up girls were not present, when she saw them getting into a car that had drawn up alongside and was being driven by the dreaded Glynis. Claire thought it strange that she had been bundled in with the extras – not that she was in any way snobbish, she had simply hoped for a car to take her and her fellow actors to the location. She studied her call sheet more closely. She appeared to be the only actor called early. The men were not called until 8.30. Terri came and plonked herself in the vacant seat next to Claire.
‘You could have followed us in your own car if you’d wanted to,’ she said, as if reading Claire’s thoughts. ‘It means you can get away quickly when we’ve finished. The others like to dash straight back to London on the motorway.’
‘Oh yes, of course. Well, I’ll probably do that next time. I need to find my way around first,’ said Claire.
‘You’ll be all right,’ said Terri reassuringly. ‘They’re not a bad bunch.’
The bus rumbled away in the first light of day and, twenty minutes later, pulled up in the car park of the grounds of a large country house. The doors swung open and it disgorged its passengers.
‘I’ll take you straight to make-up,’ announced Terri, giving Claire no choice in the matter.
They picked their way across the potholes in the car park to one of several caravans whose interiors were aglow. There were other vehicles, the wardrobe department and the caterers were housed in caravans, whilst the sound and elecs had smaller vehicles. Several members of the crew had already arrived in their cars. All had converged on the catering van, which was dispensing hot bacon and egg rolls and porridge. There were trestle tables where people could help themselves to cereal and toast and coffee