8. Goldie

8

GOLDIE

C ase files were dense. Goldie had known this going into the project, sure, and she had spent three months preparing for the role and reading every legal document she got in the mail and then some. Still, it never failed to surprise her just how cryptic and complicated legal jargon could get. She had ended up buying a Latin-English dictionary so she could translate certain terms. “Become a star, they said. It’ll be super glam, they said,” she whispered to herself as she looked out the window.

Living in her trailer wasn’t too bad. She had decorated it, bringing small items to set from her home up north in a small suitcase. She had insisted on having the bag with her on the flight, keeping it stashed next to her in first class as she traveled. The sideways look she had gotten from one of the flight attendants had been completely worth it.

In the suitcase were some antique and vintage pieces she had snatched up at various auctions and showrooms. Smaller things, like picture frames, glasses and—her personal favorite—a brass lighter dating from pre-WW2 Berlin. She had studied the gay history of the city extensively, fascinated by the nightlife and vibrant art that proliferated right before the war. She had lost track of the amount of times she had read Christopher and His Kind, and though she adored Liza Minelli in Cabaret as much as the next theatre geek, it didn’t hold a candle to the source material. She had been in a production of Cabaret at fifteen, on stage caked in makeup, her feet squeezed into character shoes. She had the time of her life, and from then on knew that performing was the only thing she ever wanted to do. Four years later, she was on the cover of Vogue . After that, she was accepted into Julliard. In retrospect, that timeline was nearly unbelievable.

Right now, sitting in her trailer on set, she imagined what she would say to that blossoming performer in pan-stick foundation and a cheap bowler hat. Could she say that she had “made it?”

Career-wise, yes. She had been so successful in comedy that widening the scope of her projects was seen as revolutionary.

Personally?

She had very few friends, actual friends instead of people who just wanted to go to parties with her. She was seen by the public as a modern, liberated blonde bombshell, which in their minds just meant sex positive and willing to wear suits every so often.

Now, she used her money, privately, to get whatever she wanted, hence the vintage collection. It was a fascination and a good hobby for her to have. It kept her mind busy, and on the days when things were difficult, it helped. Things were getting more and more difficult on set, especially now that she and Cameron had...

She had gotten what she had wanted the entire time. She reminded herself this as she took the brass lighter, holding it to a candle that made the entire trailer smell of jasmine and oud. The wick of the candle crackled before falling into a silent burn. The heady, war, scent filled the room as Goldie thought deeply. Her case file lay on the table, abandoned in favor of daydreams and fantasy. Cameron was a very talented woman, that was for sure. She had the power of overtaking Goldie’s mind.

The weight of the lighter in her hand had Goldie itching for a cigarette. It was a bad habit, she knew, and years of PSAs about tobacco would have worked perfectly on her if she hadn’t been offered one on her first set by a handsome butch working with the costume department.

She rose from her chair, feeling a sudden chill. The weather was warming up, but the irregular schedule meant she was tired most of the time. She went through to her bedroom, unhooking a large, fluffy robe from the back of the door. After tying the belt around herself, she returned to the kitchenette and sat on one of the small chairs at the table. She gently wrapped the soft, fuzzy fabric around her, grateful for the warmth it provided. Breathing deeply, she replayed what she had said to Cameron.

Who says I want anything else?

She hadn’t felt... bad about lying. Not at the time, at least. If all Goldie could be to Cameron was a co-worker with benefits, well, that’s all she had to be. She could be that for Cameron.

The issue was that she did not want to be just that for Cameron. Not at all. She was growing increasingly fond of her in a way that had her worried. Not only would they be parting soon, Goldie had started out so rudely that she didn’t know where to go from there now that feelings had begun to develop. Sure, a schoolgirl crush on a crew member wasn’t outside of Goldie’s wheelhouse at all; even she could admit that. But this felt different. Cameron hadn’t been turned off by her humor or her mean jabs. In fact, she seemed to find satisfaction in getting Goldie to drop the act.

That scared her. She was a lot of things, but she certainly did not want to be a conquest or a mountain to climb. As messy as the situation was, she wanted to be treated like a person. Cameron had been good at that since day one, not placating her or writing her off but instead listening. She removed herself when Goldie went too far, but she had still come back and worked with her in a way that felt civil.

Maybe I owe her an apology.

She hadn’t had the time to apologize. Any time they were on set, they were with other people, and the second they got any sort of time alone together, they found themselves getting thoroughly distracted. She wanted to be able to sit down properly with Cameron and apologize for the way she had acted.

Cameron would probably tell her it was alright, that she understood, that she was just trying to defend herself on the off-chance she ended up being a pervert or a stalker. That didn’t make up for what she had said or the way she had belittled her, and she tried to sit with that guilt.

She wanted whatever she had with Cameron to work while it lasted. Even if it didn’t go as far as she hoped it would, she could look back at it in the future and remember how good it was.

This thought that was meant to reassure her ended up saddening her. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to have the public know she was a lesbian. She was at the point in her career where the people she worked with wouldn’t care, and if they did, she had enough clout to simply stop working with them without compromising.

She was getting very tired of compromising. And even more tired of putting on a hard-faced bitch persona just to get through the day.

You’re an ass, Goldie. A real ass.