"Do you have a driver's licence?"
Oaken's question out-of-nowhere made Anna blink once in confusion, hands frozen while piping fondant on a wedding cake. She stared at him with her mouth ajar.
"Ah dear me, time to get the Schnapps again-"
"No, no!" Anna mumbled, "I mean, yes! I know how to drive!"
"Ok, you see, we have a problem here," Oaken continued, pointing at both the wedding cake and another catering tray piled high with chocolate profiteroles, "there are two deliveries across town today, and only two of us. The cake I can handle, but you'll have to get in the van and send the pastries to the caterers-"
"Yes sir," Anna answered, despite never having driven anything other than the tractor back home, "where do I drop them off again?"
"Not a clue!" Oaken exclaimed, snatching the piping bag from her, "I stuck the address on the windscreen-"
Without another word, Oaken took over the cake preparations and left Anna alone to load three hundred chocolate profiteroles she'd spent an entire afternoon filling. Climbing into the orange Ford van, Anna peered at the address hastily scrawled on a scrap of paper: 6838 Hollywood Boulevard. She knew where Hollywood Boulevard was, having wandered the street after dark, gawking at the neon lights and dreaming of a time when none of this mattered anymore.
After an hour of driving around downtown Los Angeles, the toll of being lost on a delivery wore down on her.
"Excuse me!" Anna called from the open van window, waving a profiterole to attract a passerby, "Do you happen to know where 6838 Hollywood Boulevard is?"
The teenage girl gleefully took the chocolate pastry from Anna's fingers, before pointing across the road.
"You mean the theatre? You can't miss it, big stone columns, most brightly lit one for miles," she answered with her mouth full, "and this is yummy-"
At the mention of "theatre", Anna snapped her gaze to the building, and drove closer with eyes widening. The sight of Elsa's image plastered on a banner sent a flood of nausea through her senses.
Elsa Sheridan, starring in BROOKLYN DREAMS. Premiering August 6th - El Capitan Theatre.
"You've gotta be kidding me," Anna muttered under her breath. In an instant, memories of the shoot, and Elsa's breath on her lips, came flooding back like a tsunami. She gripped the steering wheel hard, focusing on keeping the van on a straight line. An army of event crew were already finishing up the red carpets and lights and fencing for the guests and paparazzi, and she found a valet ushering her into a backyard parking lot with all the other trucks.
A suited man immediately accosted her before she even got out of the van, "Catering!" he yelled, "You're late, get a move on!"
Anna looked at her clothes. Pastry chef's whites. Hair tied in a bun, apron still dangling from her hips. Black working shoes.
Kristoff's voice floated back to her.
"You're really like a chameleon."
Anna's lips curled into a smile, "Right away, sir!"
Eager to stick to a schedule, he helped Anna carry the pastries to the reception area, where the harsh white lights and flickering flashbulbs grated on her brain. Still, she forced herself to arrange the profiteroles in neat pyramids on shiny crystal bowls, and organised flasks of hot chocolate for the guests, all the while keeping a steely gaze on the red carpet.
It happened all too quickly. A sudden hushed silence falling upon the press, before a maddening roar of action filled her ears. Anna was ushered away beside an enormous pair of velvet drapes with the other crew, still in view of the guests arriving on the red carpet. Kristoff arrived first, the director actually bothering to comb his hair and put on a suit for once. The other actors and actresses arrived on time, but Anna heard the impending entrance of Elsa Sheridan before the blonde even stepped onto the carpet.
Draped in mink finery and a black gown adorning her slender curves, the blonde actress looked every bit the ice-queen of Hollywood as her reputation preceded. Her eyes were vacant as she posed in the press pen, hardly blinking at the multitude of flashbulbs going off before her.
It took a second for them to catch sight of one another.
And another, for Elsa to stride over and yank her out of the curtains.
Anna swallowed hard, the firm grasp of Elsa's hands keeping her steady, despite being dressed in work clothes.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Elsa announced to the press, "I present to you, Anna Miller, casted as my dreadful sister who hates my guts and whom I love to no end-"
A chorus of laughter ensued, but the glaring lights only made Anna realise just how under-dressed she was.
"I look like shit," Anna whispered to Elsa, voice barely audible amidst the chatter.
"You look fabulous," Elsa reassured, fingers interlocked with Anna's, "like the first day of fall."
"Was this your idea of getting me into the premiere?"
"I don't know - I put the only confectionery I knew in Hollywood onto the catering rider," Elsa whispered back, with a smirk, "I must've picked the right one."
It took a full five minutes for the ovation to die down. Anna remained glued to her leather seat, afraid the slightest movement would send her crashing back into a panic-induced fit. In the hazy blur between reality and fiction, Elsa's extended palm from the stage, in her direction, appeared like another one of the scenes from the movie. Still, Anna dared herself to mount the stage. The applause resumed with thunderous intensity, threatening to blow her head off.
It wasn't until the lights burned into her eyes that she realised the audience was clapping for her. Not for Elsa or Kristoff. Her. Anna Miller. Dressed in chef's whites. Supporting actress for an ensemble cast. Barely fifteen minutes of screen time in a two-hour film.
Never having attended a premiere, Anna appeared clueless as she's led behind a desk to field questions from the press. Kristoff, ever the consummate visionary, launched into an elaborate exposition about the inspiration behind his creative direction. Elsa cut an elegant flair for answering the usual questions about working with Kristoff and other leading names casted alongside her. The prospect of speaking in public put beads of perspiration on Anna's forehead, and without a character to play - the stage fright sent a very visible shudder through her diminutive frame when a question inevitably landed on her.
"...our next question is directed towards what must be the breakout role of the year, Anna Miller, who perhaps gave the most compelling performance in this film-"
Kristoff sensed her unease, and cut into the question, "You won't believe how I got to know Anna - she practically barged into an audition, straight off some farm in Illinois!"
The scattered laughter from the press did nothing to alleviate Anna's consternation and her eyes widened at the question flying past the blood thumping in her brain. Sensing her apprehension, the reporter repeated her question.
"What was the inspiration behind that kiss between your character and Veronica's in the ladies room? Was it a spontaneous unscripted moment?"
Anna fiddled with her apron, and gritted her teeth, begging her talent to save her yet again. Act, act, act. This is all another character you have to play. Wait, no - stop acting.
"I'm still fairly new to this whole acting thing so I try to behave like how anyone would expect that character to behave," Anna answered in her natural accent, eliciting a few gasps from the audience at how distant she was to her portrayal, "kissing Veronica seemed like something my character would do to drive home the power dynamic between them-"
At once, Kristoff sighed in relief.
Anna looked over at Elsa, hands clenching and unclenching behind her desk. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, a silent conversation passed between them. Another journalist started a question, but their eyes remained glued on each other.
Elsa lit a cigarette with deliberate grace, embers glowing like a beacon in the dimly lit room. She took a slow, deliberate drag, all the while looking deep into Anna's eyes, illuminated with desire.
Beneath the hazy smoke and the bright lights, Anna caught sight of her scarlet-tinted lips moving. Her words were almost lost in the noise of the theatre, but Anna heard them, clear as day.
"I liked it."