By far the largest trailer on set belonged to Jack. Per the terms of his contract. Yet even after significantly scaling back his salary, and the doublewide having been downgraded, it was still the largest of all. If Jack’s was a mansion, Ms. Greene’s was a cottage. And they were all parked in a row it seemed, for scale.
As I walked alongside them toward Jack’s, the door to Ms. Greene’s trailer opened and I was suddenly greeted by a wave of perfume. So much so, it was nauseating. And it was perhaps one of the reasons why so many of her assistants and set makeup artists had quit or simply refused to work with Ms. Greene.
(Both Leona Rasputin and Sandra Niedermeyer, heads of costuming and makeup respectively, still refuse to enter the trailer, and now dress her and apply makeup on set. A task that was accomplished by a select few, using sheets to shield her apparently odious appearance until at least foundation has been applied. After that, no screens seemed to be necessary the woman was so vain. She flaunted her body whether she was in costume, or nude.)
I couldn’t see her standing in the doorway, but I heard banging against the wall inside Ms. Greene’s trailer. And then a tone of urgency.
“Hurry up! Get in!”
I dared to peer further inside, but still couldn’t see her.
“Are you deaf? Get in!”
I was of course, hesitant. There was no sign of Ms. Greene, save for her voice. I was worried if this was some sort of trap. That the door would snap shut behind me and I would then be beaten up and eaten.
I’d heard the strangest rumours about the actress after all. A violent past, some said. That she had killed someone. Put someone in a freezer and ate limb after limb for weeks. And in another story, she had killed someone and taken their identity. It was entirely possible she wasn’t the real Alfreda Greenberg. I worried she might try to become the new Kamala Misra.
“Um… Ms. Greene? I’m Kamala.”
Ms. Greene growled, “Ms. Anderson said, that is she assured me, that you would have to come into the trailer. It’s in the contract you signed! Remember? She said she would hire someone not allergic to my perfume!”
“But I’m not—”
Suddenly, my fears came true. I squealed in terror as a towel-clad woman with a fierce and slimy green face jumped out from behind the corner, gripped me by the jacket collar and drug me inside, slamming the door behind us. I was done for.
Although not really done for, as it turned out. It was Ms. Greene who had grabbed onto me.
Swinging me inside with some hidden strength, this tiny woman flung me onto the couch. And the cup of coffee fell from my hand.
Then the woman leapt at me; almost jumped onto my lap. Though her knees landed on the cushions on either side of my hips, and she put her arms on the back of the sofa around my neck.
Both of us caught our breath and then she brought her face close to mine, and stared into my eyes. But her fiery violet eyes soon softened. Suffice to say, I was no longer worried I was about to be killed. Or eaten ‘up’, per se. She was close enough now; she could either whisper in my ear, or kiss me on the lips.
And then she moved forward. Fortunately not to kiss me, but to hug me instead. Her arms wrapped around me, and she pressed the side of her face up to mine. And in the process, smeared half of an avocado mud mask onto my cheek.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” Ms. Greene said with glee. Her brogue shining through. “It’s been a long time, but the ice bitch finally came through and got me a competent-looking assistant.”
Gracefully, she climbed off of me, and wiped off the rest of the avocado using her towel, essentially exposing herself to me. As fast as I could I averted my gaze. Although… adjusting my glasses, I did take a quick peek. She was the belle of the ball baring it all. And she worked out too. I could see why she was able to pull me inside so easily.
“Oh don’t be such a prude,” she said looking down. “We’re both girls here. Besides you’re working for me now.”
I blushed, rising to my feet now. “I uh… I thought… when you yanked me inside… and got up in my face…you'd...”
“What? Rape you?” She chuckled, “Relax. I can tell I’m going to like you, but you’re not my type.”
She turned around in the direction of the closet, showing off her perfect buttocks, when she paused. Thinking about what she said, she spun about and added in a very awkward manner, “Oh, I didn’t mean in that way! Not race-wise. I’m… I meant I’m not into girls. Not that that’s wrong, or anything! Of course… And… you’re very beautiful, but…”
“It’s okay. I know what you meant.”
“Phew! Good. I was worried I almost ruined everything.”
I smiled. I saw a side to Aaliyah I’d never seen before. Well, a lot of sides that I hadn’t wanted to see, but I can’t unsee now.
Despite her personality flaws, Aaliyah was an extremely attractive woman. Especially when her face was clean. She was my age. And dare I say more beautiful than myself and even the critically acclaimed Rita Severn. And younger too.
Aaliyah had a figure that an hourglass would envy. Fit and fair-skinned. When she removed her head wrap, her damp chocolate hair draped down. Her nose was small, her lips were full, her brows were thick and curved and had a well-defined peak. And her eyes were a delirious amaranthine.
“Anyway, now that you’re here, you can help me pick something out. So what did you say your name was? Camille?” Aaliyah asked.
She turned around, having slipped into her robe. Then she smiled a genuine smile at me and said, “Kamala. It’s very nice to meet you. I can tell we’re going to be good friends.”
“Well, now,” I spoke up, though tried to be polite, “you see, Ms. Greene…”
“Of course. Aaliyah. Well, the thing is, um… well the fact of the matter, is that, I’m actually not—”
A knock at the trailer door interrupted me.
“Who is it?” came Aaliyah’s brusque reply.
“Ms. Greene, I’m Ursula. Ursula Reichenbach. You’re new personal assistant.”
Ursula invited herself in, and stepped inside the mobile home. A blonde girl far younger than me. I turned back to Aaliyah and sensed something awful brewing.
Slowly, I headed toward the door.
“Wait a minute!” Aaliyah called, “I thought you were my new assistant, Kamala?”
“I’m really sorry, Ms. Greene. I didn’t mean to mislead you, but you did pull me in here and—”
“But I like you. We were getting on nicely.”
“Hold on, what’s going on here?” Ms. Reichenbach interjected. Then she pointed at me, “And what’s on your face?”
“Shut up, whoever-you-are! I’m not talking to you right now!” Aaliyah hissed. Then she looked back at me. Hurt. “You’re not my assistant?”
“Didn’t we have a good connection?”
“We did. We do! I like you—”
“Who are you then? Just a fan?”
“No, I’m Jack’s assistant. Jack Lynch. Well I am a fan… but I work for Jack. That’s who I was going to see before…”
“Yeah. I’m gonna… I think I’m gonna go now.”
“No, Kamala! Stay! You can be my assistant instead!”
“Sorry!” I said turning on my heel, as I began to hurry over to Jack’s trailer. Avocado still stuck to my cheek.