"Replica03 - Another Amy - Kaye, Marilyn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kaye Marilyn)

Aimee pouted. "I don't feel like trying on clothes now."
The woman's lips tightened, as if she'd heard this before. "Well, I'm sorry about that, Aimee, but you're going to be shooting that scene in just a few days, and I need to make some alterations in the dress."
"I'll do it tomorrow," Aimee said.
"I don't have the time to fit you tomorrow."
Aimee's eyes narrowed. "Make the time."
The woman was distinctly annoyed. "Aimee, your attitude is completely unprofessional. I don't want to speak to Mr. Hardy about you, butЧ"
"No, I don't think that's a good idea," Aimee interrupted. "Because then I'd have to speak to Mr. Hardy about you."
"What are you talking about?"
Aimee smiled, but it wasn't a pretty smile. "I've seen you picking up those scraps of fabric in the costume department. And I know what you've been doing with them."
The woman stared at her in disbelief.
"I followed you to your office," Aimee said. "Did you know there's a fire hydrant just outside your window? It was easy for me to stand on it and see you." She paused. Her smiled broadened and looked even meaner. "You were sewing those scraps together, making a quilt. And I can guess what you do with those quilts. You sell them."
The woman protested, "Aimee, those scraps are leftover material. They would just go into the garbage."
"The studio's garbage," Aimee said. "You were taking stuff that didn't belong to you. You're making money from studio property. I believe that constitutes theft."
"Mr. Hardy wouldn't care if I kept fabric scraps!"
"No? Why don't we just ask him right now and find out."
The director was heading their way. He was rubbing his hands together, and he looked pleased with himself. "That went well, I think. What's your problem, Sylvia?"
The costume woman didn't say anything. Aimee spoke. "There's no problem, Mr. Hardy. Everything's fine. Sylvia and I were just talking about my next fitting. We're doing it tomorrow. Aren't we, Sylvia?"
Sylvia looked at Aimee long and hard. But all she said was "Yes," before walking away.
Eric coughed. "Uh, hi, I'mЧ"
But Aimee hadn't finished talking to Mr. Hardy. "I want to tell you about one of the extras. Jeanine Something."
Mr. Hardy picked up a list from the table. "Jeanine, Jeanine . . . oh yes, here she is. What about her?"
"Get rid of her."
"What?"
"You heard me. Get rid of her. I don't like her looks."
Mr. Hardy's face took on the same expression Eric had seen on the wardrobe woman. "You're not running this show, Aimee."
"It's her or me," Aimee said. "If I quit now, how far behind schedule will that put you?"
Mr. Hardy looked pained. He examined the list again. "Wait a minute, there's a note here about her. Her father's president of the bank that's making a major investment in the film. The producer promised him Jeanine would have a role."
Aimee was momentarily stymied. Then she smiled that awful smile again. "All right. She can play Marcia." From her satisfied expression, Eric concluded that Marcia wasn't a very desirable role.
Aimee then turned away and started out of the gym. Eric followed her. "Uh, excuse me, Aimee, Ms. EvansЧ"
She stopped and turned. "What do you want?"
Eric didn't get a chance to tell herЧwhich was just as well, since nothing had come to him yet. Two women had entered the gym and were hurrying toward the actress.
The larger woman with platinum blond hair was beaming. "Aimee, darling, look who's here!"
Aimee turned an expressionless face to the other woman, a petite brunette with large glasses. "Who are you?"
The petite woman held out her hand. "Sue Adams, Teen Time magazine."
"She wants to do a story about you, darling!" the other woman said. "A week in the life of a rising star!"
Aimee didn't look any friendlier. "I want article approval," she told the woman. "Nothing goes into that magazine that I haven't seen and okayed."
"Not a problem," Sue Adams chirped. Then she noticed Eric. "And who might you be?"
"I might be an extra," he said stupidly. "I mean, I am an extra. My name's Eric Morgan."
The woman smiled and shook his hand. Aimee then turned to the blond woman. "Mom, I'm starving."
"I've got lots of goodies all ready for you in the trailer, sweetie pie," the woman said. She linked an arm with Aimee's.
"It was nice to meet you, Eric," the magazine writer called out before running after them.
Eric watched the three of them leave the gym, but he was mainly watching Aimee. If he imagined that the blond curly hair was brown and straight, he could be watching Amy Candler. The two girls were the same height, the same shape, and they even had the same walk.
But the similarities pretty much ended there.


8

"She's not your clone," Eric told Amy.
They were sitting across from each other on the twin beds in Tasha's room, which was always a lot neater and cleaner than Eric's.
"How can you be so sure about that?" Amy wanted to know. "You told me yourself you barely spoke to her!"