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wardrobe room.
    Grabbing a colorful skirt and stockings off of a rack, Ashley handed it to me and shoved me in the direction of a changing screen. “Hurry up and get changed. You heard Larry. We don’t have a ton of time.”
    Scanning the clown-themed skimpiness of the costume, I realized something. “I think I need a new management team.”
    Seeing as my management team was her, Ashley reacted accordingly. “What?! Why?”
    “Because Ryder is in a fucking tuxedo, and I’m in this! ” I shook the flimsy, striped fabric in front of her face. “And he was in it thirty minutes ago, so he’s obviously better informed.”
    “You know how it is, E. Sex sells and all that. During the opening of the show, Ryder will wear his tux and you’ll wear a show-themed, sexy get up.” I pretended to gag as she continued, “That’s just the way it is.”
    The sour news contorted my face just as though it’d been actual candy.
    “During the reenactment, he’ll be in clown shit too. And I’ve seen it, it’s even more ridiculous than yours.”
    “I’m holding you to that.”
    “Hold away,” she offered with a shove. “Now get your ass behind that screen and pull the straps of your suspenders over your nipples. There’s a limit to exactly how much sex we’re allowed to sell.”
    “Cute,” I mocked through a fake laugh. “Laugh it up now, but I’ll get you back for this.”
    “I’ve no doubt you will,” she agreed as I slid behind the screen. “Don’t forget the stockings!”
    “I won’t,” I grumbled. “Trust me.” They were the most substantial part of the whole outfit.
    I made quick work of the stockings first, and then pulled on the suspender style straps and smoothed my hands down to the edge of the bright red, fluffy, tulle skirt.
    I could scarcely remember feeling more ridiculous, but even I couldn’t deny that my boobs looked great. If you were going to get into the clown lifestyle, this was the way to go.
    “I guess the silver lining is that I don’t have to carry the pregnant belly yet,” I said, stepping around the screen and back out in front of my sister.
    As soon as the words cleared my lips, Ashley stepped forward and smothered my good mood with the well-timed placement of my bright red nose.
    “I love your positive thinking, E,” she praised through a smile, leaning forward to place a smug kiss on the apple of my cheek. “Breathe through your mouth, m’kay?”
    Hustling out of the dressing room and toward the set, I pulled the script out of Ashley’s arms for one last read through of the opener. It was a largely loose format, giving us guidelines and specific talking points, but leaving the extras up to us. I liked the idea of having some creative liberties—the chance to really tap into any and all talent I might have—but the idea of doing it with someone I knew nothing about shifted my nerves into overdrive.
    Cameras and the crew sat waiting as we approached the set, and for the first time all morning, I took the time to take it all in.
    I was doing it. Sure, it might not have been my dream job, but it was a job—and a real one at that. An actual director awaited our arrival by perusing the set and doling out orders, and cameramen sat patiently behind several cameras.
    It was fairly low budget, just as I would have expected, but real. And about a million times better than Bernstein’s backlot commercial gone wrong.
    Ryder waved me over, looking attractive and far too normal in his tuxedo around the periphery of my big, red nose. His tux hugged the lean line of his body and the silvery blue of his thin, striped tie coordinated well with his eyes.
    Turning to tell Ashley where I was going, I found her deeply enthralled in a conversation with Larry, so I nudged her with a nod to convey my point and walked onto the actual set for the first time.
    A huge neon sign lit the back wall, and colorful lights tinted the air all around us. A simple wood floor sounded under my heels as I