My Only Sunshine

Hollywood, 1955

Jim Lane got out of his car in front of the studio, late as usual. But he was also fully aware that his tardiness never caused any issues. He was 'the' star of the century, known for being an arrogant bastard, yet people still worshipped him. He tossed his cigarette onto the floor and stamped it out.

He entered the set without feeling the slightest bit of guilt that everyone else was already there waiting for him, dragged a chair, and sat down. It was the first day of shooting his newest movie, 'Someone Like You.' He removed his sunglasses, revealing his green eyes, when the script supervisor came running with the script.

"Jim! Finally! We thought you wouldn't make it," Pete, the director, approached him with a forced smile on his face.

"Why would you think that? Have I ever not turned up for the first day of shooting?" He asked, barely looking at the director's face. He saw him clench his fists. Jim smirked because he knew there was nothing Pete could do about his attitude. The only way for the movie to be successful was to get Jim to play the lead, and they all knew that very well.

He mindlessly skipped through the pages of the script. He had already gone through the script and almost knew it by heart. He might look like an arrogant son of a bitch most of the time, but he respected his career. Despite having always been known for the notorious bastard he was, he really did give himself entirely to every role that he played. Which is why he was the most sought-after actor of all time. That and his devilishly handsome looks of course, which he was well aware of. He threw the script back at the script supervisor.

"Shall we get to the wardrobe fitting and makeup then? Your costar already got hers done two hours ago," the director said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, the new girl? Didn't see her during preproduction," Jim said, getting up from where he was seated and stretching his hands over his head.

"That's because you never came for any of the rehearsals or script read-throughs and were always late for planning meetings," the director said, wiping his glasses on the sleeve of his shirt.

"Right," Jim chuckled and made his way toward the makeup trailers.

The casting director had made a huge fuss about wanting a fresh female face for the movie and Jim knew that they had spent months doing auditions and screen-tests. But he also got to know that they had apparently found the 'perfect fit' for the role and he was slightly interested to see who it was.

He passed the makeup trailer where she was sitting inside, but her back was turned towards the door, so he couldn't get a proper look. For the first time in his entire life, he sort of felt bad for making her wait for two hours after getting her makeup done. But he soon forgot this when he saw the head makeup artist, whom he had fooled around with a couple of times before.

"Evie," he said, snaking his hand around her tiny waist and pulling her closer. She blushed like a rose under his gaze, and he loved how he seemed to have that effect on all women.

"How have you been, doll?" he asked her, pushing her hair behind her ear. She blushed even more. "Oh, Jim," she said and looked hopefully into his eyes. Jim understood what this meant and drew her close, pressing her flush against his chest. But before they could even begin anything, Jim heard someone clear their throat.

"Jimbo, my man, let's hurry things along, shall we? We are far behind the day's schedule already," the man who entered the makeup trailer smiled kindly at Jim. It was Morrison, George Morrison, the movie's producer and the only genuine friend Jim had in the industry.

"Sorry, Georgie. I didn't mean to take that long," Jim said, settling on the chair while Evie ran around to get the makeup items laid out. George was the only person Jim actually cared about and also respected. Maybe because he respected Jim in return and didn't treat him like a money-making machine like others did. Others were only nice to him because he was the golden boy, not because they cared.