Chapter Five | Scenes From An Italian Restaurant

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The next few days flew by. I turned off my phone and threw myself into the shoot, which was going surprisingly well — we were right on schedule (which in the film and TV world is more like a mythical concept than an actual possibility) and I felt good about the work I was doing. I even pitched a couple of line tweaks to optimize the jokes — after all, my character was a fading Hollywood starlet who was trying to make it in the reality TV world, and I knew that world a little better than this London gang of thespians.

One scene was especially fun to shoot, because none of us could get through it. Simon's character, Julian, had developed a crush on my character — both hedonistic, selfish, attention-loving weirdos, and frankly a match made in heaven! — and was trying to drop heavy things on my head or move things in front of my feet to cause me to trip. This, of course, meant that all the other ghosts — who did not want to be stuck with Annalynne Font, obnoxious American, for the rest of their purgatoric days — had to run around trying to save my life. Ben and Jim had to try and blow on my face (which obviously wouldn't work, but god, it was funny to shoot), and Katy running around trying to throw herself in front of me to make me smell burning was one of the most hilarious things I think I'd ever witnessed in person.

Later that night, after we wrapped, we all gathered at an art gallery in Camden to hear Mat play some music. It turned out that he was actually a proper singer-songwriter, and was playing some original music for friends and family.

I arrived a little late, thanks to Friday night traffic and my absolute refusal to spend another night out with my character's overdone (though fabulous) coif, which meant that I walked into the gallery with hair still a little wet from the shower and an apologetic smile on my face. Mat was already playing, the warm plucks of his acoustic guitar floating over the heads of several patrons who were sitting on folding chairs, enjoying the show. I spied the backs of my friends heads, close to the front. I decided not to agitate the crowd, instead opting to sidle up to the rear where a few other latecomers were standing. I leaned against a large white column and caught Mat's eye, sending him an encouraging smile. He nodded in acknowledgement and continued to sing.

As the song went on, my gaze drifted back to the others in the crowd. I saw Martha, Jim, Larry, and Ben in the second row. My stomach sank a little as I spied a familiar head of shiny blonde hair — Amy must've come with Ben. He had his arm over the back of her chair, and when the song came to a tender final chorus, she gently lay her head on his shoulder and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

Okay, I decided as the song ended and we all applauded. I'm not going to be jealous and ridiculous tonight. Enough.

Eventually, the show wrapped up and everyone began milling about, sipping white wine and congratulating Mat. I grinned as I saw who I presumed was his wife go up and give him a loving kiss. Martha spotted me first through the crowd.

"Mags!" She called, and pointed me out to the others. I made my way through the throng and greeted everyone with hugs — even Amy, who looked like she'd rather I'd stuck to a handshake, but I was already too far into the hugging process to reel it back, so I gave her a quick pat on the back and retreated, smiling awkwardly. I tried not to notice that Ben was looking especially nice in a pair of black-rimmed glasses and a dark grey henley top with the sleeves pushed up, showing his forearms attractively. He must've taken a shower since shooting as well, as his hair was freshly washed — I caught a distinct, lovely smell of musky, woody shampoo as I gave him a quick hug hello.

Mat approached the group, smiling.

"Hey, there he is!" Jim grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"That was so great!" I effused, giving him a hug. "And you spent all that time on Horrible Histories pretending you couldn't sing!"

He laughed and nodded.

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