"I understand," Rosita sighed, rubbing her temple. "Could you pick up some painkillers for me? My headache''s really bad, and I''m not sure I''ll be in great shape for the recordingter. Maybe you could let the production team know?"
Bill grinned. "That''s no problem. I''ll send my assistant to get the medicine now, and I''ll talk to the directorter and ask them to keep an eye out for you."
It was ten o''clock at night. Crickets chirped and cicadas hummed under a bright full moon.
For the first night of filming, the production crew had set up a cozy campsite in the backyard,plete with local dishes and drinks for all the guests to enjoy under the moonlight.
Everyone was expected to attend; after the director''s repeated invitations, Rosita felt she couldn''t really refuse.
Out in the yard, soft orange spotlights illuminated the grass in gentle circles. The guests gathered around the camp tables and took their seats in a loose ring.
Briony found herself seated between Mary on her right and Ferdinand on her left. Ferdinand had only arrived after dark.
Briony was surprised to see him, and when she asked, she learned that the production team had specially invited him.
Ferdinand''s mentor, Father Calloway, had been a lover of folk music. While teaching Ferdinand medicine years ago, he''d often use folk songs to exin the intricacies of the pentatonic scale-drawing connections between music and the healing arts.
This shared background gave Briony and Ferdinand plenty to talk about. Sitting side by side, they lowered their voices and quickly became engrossed in conversation.
The other guests were chatting andughing as well, the atmosphere easy and cheerful. Now and then, a burst ofughter would ripple through the group, usually thanks to one of Mary''s endearing quips.
Mary was sweet-faced and lively, pale and slender, and only twenty-four. She was just an ordinary girl from a working-ss neighborhood in Riverview, with a bright, outgoing personality. Her ent had a hint of the port city in it, but her voice was clear and strong, giving the impression of boundless energy.
Before Rosita had arrived, Mary had been the center of attention.
She was a natural talker, armed with a seemingly endless supply of jokes and stories that had everyone in stitches.
But the moment Rosita entered, the focus in the room shifted to her entirely.
One of the more senior regrs spotted her and quickly asked, "Ms. Lockwood, I heard you weren''t feeling well. Are you alright?"
Rosita turned to him and smiled
gently. "Thank you for your concern, Driscoll. I just took some edicine-I''m feeling a bit better
now."
"Ms. Lockwood, please, have this seat," said Tony, one of the guest stars, jumping up and offering his own ce to her, his cheekso reddening.
The seat Tony vacated was directly across from Briony.
"Thank you." Rosita shed Tony a warm smile.
Tony, still blushing, scratched the back of his head. "Ms. Lockwood, could I... get your autograph?"
Rosita hesitated for a moment. "Of course, but I don''t have a pen on me..."
"I brought one!" Tony produced a marker, practically beaming. "I heard you''d be on the show this week-I''ve
been looking forward to it! I''ve seen all your work. I''m a huge fan!"
Rositaughed as she took the pen, ncing around. "But, um, where should I sign?"
"My jacket!" Tony quickly turned around, presenting his back. "Anywhere is fine!" Rosita looked a little embarrassed. "Are you sure? Your jacket..."
"Your autograph''s worth a hundred times more than this old thing!" Tony looked at her, eyes shining with the awe of meeting his idol.
With a small smile, Rosita gave in and signed her name across the back of his jacket.
Tony, now grinning from ear to ear, found a spot and sat down, clutching his jacket like a treasured prize.
Everyone teased Tony foring just to fulfill his dream, and he cheerfully
admitted that was exactly why he was there.
Laughter rippled through the group once more.
Rosita pressed her lips together in a quiet smile, her gaze drifting-perhaps unintentionally toward Briony''s side of the table.