‘You’re going to call up his dentist?’
‘No, I’m going to sneak into wherever they’re storing his meals,’ Ivy said. ‘I don’t know exactly where that is, but if it comes down to it, I will sit in the cafeteria and wait until he shows up, so I can know what he’s eating.’
Sophia sighed. ‘Well, it beats me streaking.’
Ivy hauled herself up into the craft truck and her heart sank. It was a big truck, but there were people everywhere. She guessed that without having anything to film, the crew was just being paid to eat. Every table was full and the line for food was really long.
So much for sneaking around without anyone noticing.
As the line moved slowly forward, it gave Ivy a chance to survey the scene. The rows of chefs were each tending to a different section of the food tables, serving things up on request. Behind them was a man in a smart suit, checking things off on his clipboard, talking to certain people in line and observing. Ivy decided he was the catering manager.
A trim, brown-haired girl, looking stylish and wearing a multi-stranded beaded necklace over a long, loose grey sweater and jeans, caught the manager’s attention. Ivy guessed she must be one of the supporting actresses. The manager flipped through his papers, turned to a stainless-steel fridge behind him and took out a tray filled with what looked like raw carrots and celery – and nothing else – and handed it to her.
‘Bingo,’ Ivy said. ‘He’s our man and that’s our fridge.’ The manager walked farther down the tables to talk to one of his staff. ‘That must be where they would store Jackson’s special meals.’
Ivy and Sophia shuffled forward, past the first table covered with an elaborate salad bar. The people in front were trying to choose between lobster and oysters, so they were forced to wait in front of the second table, one table away from the fridge, just in front of the sandwich selection.
‘Do we get to eat this stuff?’ Sophia wondered aloud.
A grey-haired man behind the counter piped up: ‘Those extras passes get you all access to these culinary delights. We’ve got something for everyone; just tell old Curtis what you’re after.’
‘Ooh,’ Sophia replied. ‘If I could have anything, I’d go for a Philly cheese steak sandwich.’
‘Make that two,’ Ivy put in.
Curtis rubbed his hands together and beamed. ‘Excellent choice, ladies!’ He sliced open two white baguettes, put them on a grill behind him and started scooping heaps of shredded beef into a skillet.
Breakfast at Olivia’s had been the usual bunny feast, and Ivy felt herself starting to drool.
‘How do you plan to get a look in that fridge?’ Sophia whispered, snapping Ivy back to the problem at hand.
Ivy noticed that the serving tables were all covered in crisp white tablecloths. If she could get under this table, she could crawl to the next table, take a quick peek in the fridge and crawl back without being seen.
‘Oh look,’ Ivy said deliberately. ‘My shoelace has come undone.’ She knelt down and pretended to tie her bootlace, while pushing up the tablecloth. There was nothing stored under the table, and no one was paying any attention to her, so she lifted the cloth up higher, nudged forward and ducked.
‘Ow!’ Ivy clanged her head against hard metal, sending a jolt through the plates and bowls of food above her. It felt like she’d been smacked on the forehead by a frying pan.
The stylish brown-haired girl and a group of camera men turned to stare. Ivy staggered to her feet, trying to look dignified.
‘She’s OK!’ Sophia announced and people turned back to their meals.
‘Ow.’ Ivy rubbed her forehead. ‘Must be a low shelf.’
Curtis came back with two steaming beef sandwiches dripping with cheese and onions. The smell of the food made her head injury feel a little better.
Hoping for an opportunity to present itself, Ivy and Sophia spent ages at every food table.
People behind started overtaking them. But eventually, they were at the end of the tables and out of options. Ivy gulped.
‘I’ll cover you,’ Sophia whispered. She put down her tray, held up her camera and said to the manager, ‘Hi! I’m making a kind of yearbook scrapbook of the making of this movie. Can I take your picture?’
The manager beamed. ‘Sure!’ He put his arm around the chef he was talking to, who struck a goofy grin, while Sophia snapped away.
Ivy knew this was her last chance. She clutched her tray, darted behind Sophia and moved to go around the photo shoot, but at the same time the manager stepped backwards to call for another chef to join the photo.
The manager banged right into Ivy, sending her tray full of food and his clipboard flying into the air. He managed to catch her sandwich but everything else ended up on the floor, with his clipboard bursting open smack in the middle of the mess of sushi, satsuma and shrimp. Ivy could hear Sophia’s camera still clicking away.
Oh my darkness, Ivy thought. I want to disappear.
But as Ivy was sprawled among the debris, she caught sight of one of the sheets of paper. It was labelled ‘Dietary Requirements’ and had a long list of codes on one side with food allergies on the other.
She didn’t get a long look before the manager picked them up, but it was long enough to see right at the top in bold and underlined: ‘J-02: ABSOLUTELY NO GARLIC'.
Bingo.
Chapter Eight
‘Ladies, please!’ Philippe cried.
Jackson had just walked into the Meat & Greet and now not a single one of the hopeful actresses was paying any attention to what Philippe was saying.
Including Olivia.
The production crew had cleared all the furniture out of the dining section of the diner and brought in folding chairs for everyone to sit on.
‘Ladies, we must begin the screen tests!’ Philippe looked like he was ready to explode from all the stress. ‘Now that she-who-must-not-be-named has done what-must-not-be-said, every minute is costing!’
Philippe paced, stopping every few steps to wave his hands and emphasise his words as he explained the rules. ‘OK, each candidate gets one chance in front of the camera to impress me. Those who do, come back for a reading with Jackson this afternoon. Those who don’t should be ashamed for wasting my time. That is all.’
Olivia gulped. Not much of a pep talk, she thought.
The first audition was a red-headed girl at least three years younger than Olivia, who looked like she might be turning a little bit green.