“Whoa, whoa, hold it, everybody, please, let’s all just stop!” Who the fuck was Edward to go against my opinion? I had to convince Jean-Marc and the Swanky people to see things my way without offending anyone.

“Everyone, please, let’s sit down for a moment,” I said in my chummiest voice. I herded them onto the couches and chairs. “Everyone comfy? Can I get anyone a drink?”

Jean-Marc perched his long body on the sofa arm wearing a phony patient smile under his thin mustache as if watching a three-year-old about to recite a poem. He pointed to his watch.

“We are running out of time,” Evette interpreted.

“Yes, I understand,” I snapped, then checked myself. “Okay everyone, first let me say thank you, Jean-Marc, for your indulgence.”

As I spoke, Evette translated my words, expressionless. Jean-Marc rolled his eyes.

“Here’s the thing. Um, in this film, I am trying to show that I am a…” (the words “serious actress” rose in my mouth, but I couldn’t say them) “a human being, not a-a stupid sex toy.”

“Une jouet de sex stupide!” Evette translated.

Titters erupted from the crew.

“Not a sex toy, that came out wrong.” I turned to Evette helplessly.

She spoke several words to Jean-Marc.

“Vous pense que cette robe, elle est stupid?” Jean-Marc peered at me over his rimless glasses.

Evette translated. “You think our dress, she is stupid?”

“No, I think I look stupid in her…it,” I retorted.

Jean-Marc let loose a long sentence with his hands fluttering in all directions.

“What? What’s he saying?” I asked.

Evette cleared her throat. “He is telling you this is a photograph, Mademoiselle Gold. It is a work of art unto itself.”

“Oui!” Jean-Marc agreed.

“Oui, oui, oui,” the Swanky group agreed, nodding their heads.

“Okay, friends, mes amis,” Edward interrupted. He rose and swaggered to the bar, boozy. “We are all on the same side. Am I correct, Jackie?”

I nodded vigorously despite how I felt about being on any team with Edward.

“Jean-Marc,” he said, refilling his glass. “Don’t you have another teensy petite dress?” Edward showed petite with his thumb and forefinger.

“No, non, non.” With each “non,” Jean-Marc slapped his thigh with an open palm like a stern governess.

I took a deep breath, as deep as I could without splitting seams. As soon as this was over, I would kill Edward.

“Okay, I have a solution.” I forced a calm tone to my voice. “Could someone unzip me? I’ll go to my room and pull out a hundred other choices for you to look at.”

Jean-Marc spoke, and Evette translated. “But then it won’t be the Swanky concept.”

I turned to Edward, now reclining on the divan, his Hawaiian shirt flapped open exposing a swath of pale pink skin, the color of a hamster’s belly. “Look, Edward, I’m out of options here.”