Wynter by Nadia
The old, battered Datsun slid slowly into its usual parking place outside the studios, the morning sun showing mercilessly what the rust had done to the car here and there. With one last effort, the girl driving the car pulled it over and killed the engine, an unfamiliar, sort of exploding sound reaching her ears as she did but she still didn’t pay any attention to it. Taking a deep breath, the young woman took the keys and slowly stepped out, opening the trunk and taking several dresses and suits wrapped in transparent bags out of it. Closing it with a loud thud, Wynter walked into the studio.
Wynter slid soundlessly into the tiny room allocated to the wardrobe designers and quickly hung the costumes where they belonged. She knew she was early, but that was the way she liked it; she’d never been good around people. Her colleagues had long ago given up on their attempts of having her opening up to them, simply opting for ignoring her now, but Wynter preferred it that way. She hated answering questions about herself, and she enjoyed her own space far better than that of others.
Wynter Johansen wasn’t the standard 25 year old. Nothing in her life had been normal and that had certainly helped to mould her silent personality.
With long black straight hair and deep, soulful brown eyes, Wynter wasn’t exactly a stunning beauty, but she wasn’t unattractive either. However, the dark clothes she always wore only contributed to darken her even further. Some people called it lack of security, Wynter called it practicality.
“Hello, hello!” A cheery female voice said as Wynter hung up the last outfit. Turning sideways, she greeted the other woman.
“Good morning, Tonya.” Wynter said, her voice never changing its low tone. Tonya tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, her green eyes staring at Wynter with a cold expression in them. They were a very particular duo: Tonya was a lively 40 something always dressed to the latest fashion and Wynter was exactly the opposite, not only in looks but in personality as well.
Pursing her lips in disgust, Tonya dropped her bag.
“Jesus, Wynter... You get more cheerful with every passing day!” She exclaimed. Wynter just ignored her, which angered Tonya even more. She just hated the unattractive, gloomy assistant the director had assigned her. According to Tonya, Wynter was a depressing sight that always ruined her mood whenever her sarcasm clashed with the girl’s indifference. However, what worried her the most was that even with her lack of style for herself, the costumes Wynter designed were far better than hers. Leaning her hips on the table, Tonya asked evilly. “Did you fix those costumes I gave you yesterday?”
“Yes. They’re ready.” Wynter answered laconically as she sat down by the table, beginning to study some sketches.
“Good.” Tonya said moving to where the outfits where. “Rob needs them today.”
Rob was Rob Davies, the director of the movie ‘Hidden Lies’, a drama set in the late 70’s about the secrets of a very powerful family. Wynter had been hired as an assistant wardrobe designer, but Tonya, having been in the business for about twenty years now, took over the head designer’s job, not giving Wynter’s designs a second look. Wynter could always show her sketches to Rob, but that would mean a sure cat fight with Tonya about stepping her authority, something she just didn’t want.
“You better be ready.” Tonya said dragging her out of her daydreaming. “Orlando and Liv Tyler will be here today to try these new costumes.”
Oh, yeah... Orlando Bloom, Wynter’s only soft spot. Not that he would ever notice her, though. Sometimes, Wynter would sit and stare at him as he worked, mesmerised at the way he brought his characters to life, and studying his every single move.
It wasn’t hard for her to watch and pretend she was entirely focused on the sketches she often brought with her as an excuse. But the only time Wynter had actually been with him was when she was measuring him for his wardrobe, but he had never laid eyes on her since then. That’s why Wynter spent most of her spare time on the set and enjoying of Orlando’s performance, because that was all she knew she would get from a guy like him.
“Alright.” Wynter finally answered, stuffing the sketches into her bag and mentally reminding herself to check them once at home. Taking a blue night dress off of its hook, Tonya turned to her, a serious look on her forty-something face.
“You’ll be in charge of Liv’s fittings in the other room. I will take care of Orlando’s, obviously.” Tonya explained with a leer and Wynter felt sick in her stomach. For weeks, Tonya had been trying to get Orlando into her bed... Or any other flat surface that would allow her to make love to him. She wasn’t shy about it.
“Sure.” Wynter answered more laconically than usual and Tonya gave her another dirty look.
“Jeez, girl! Be careful or you’ll waste your daily quota of monosyllables on me!”
Wynter glanced her wristwatch. 1 PM. The cast and crew were surely having a well deserved break and lunch by now, and so she sat alone in the wardrobe room, working on some sketches of 18th century gowns Rob has asked her to do. He had been very pleased with the gowns she had designed for Liv –the female star of ‘Hidden Lies’- and had requested Wynter some sketches for his next movie. The movie would be set in England and if Wynter got the job, she would have to leave California in about a month. Not that she cared much about it; Wynter had nothing in Los Angeles to stay for, and England sounded mighty fine for her - her mother’s stories about the country had triggered her curiosity.
Wynter was so deeply immersed in her drawings that she didn’t hear someone approaching until a few knocks on the open door brought her back to reality. Looking up, her brown eyes grew wide at the sight of a sheepish looking Orlando Bloom standing by the door with a little smile lingering on his lips.
“Sorry, Wynter. I didn’t know you were busy.” Orlando murmured apologetically. “I’ll try those new costumes later today, don’t worry.”
Wynter stared dumbfounded at Orlando’s back as he turned around and walked away, her hand frozen above the sketch and her long black hair casting a shadow over her surprised features. Did he know her name? Wynter was sure he wouldn’t remember, not after so long.
Wynter heard Orlando’s footsteps as he walked away and finally something clicked in her brain. Throwing the sketches and pencil on the table, she jumped up and rushed to the door, bracing herself on the frame as she stepped out of the room.
“Mr. Bloom, wait!” Wynter called out. Orlando turned around, a curious look in his chocolate eyes. “Please come back. I’m not busy.”
Orlando blinked in confusion, but he turned on his heels and walked toward her nonetheless.
“But I saw you drawing.” Orlando murmured, looking confused, and Wynter shook her head, both to answer his question and to ease the awkward feeling of embarrassment that had slowly filled her body. Orlando stood right before her, so close that Wynter could not only smell his scent but also feel his heat on her body.
“That was nothing.” Wynter mumbled lowering her head, unable to look into his eyes any longer.
“Are you sure?” Orlando asked and Wynter closed her eyes. Did he have to be so nice?
“Yes, Mr. Bloom. Follow me, please.” Wynter said, turning around and re- entering in the room, followed closely by Orlando. His presence was impossible to ignore, filling every corner of the room and making her very self conscious.
Orlando stared at Wynter as she took several costumes from an improvised closet and then laid them on the table, her eyes busy on her work all the time. Wynter was a mystery to him; she rarely socialised with the rest of the crew or the cast unless it was strictly necessary and she went unnoticed so often that most of the people working in the set wouldn’t know whether she was actually there or not. Liv usually said that Wynter was shy and that being around the overwhelming Tonya didn’t help at all, but Orlando didn’t think that that was the real problem.
Wynter had a strong personality, that much he knew. He didn’t know why he was so sure about it, but something in her deep brown eyes told him so. Even when Wynter insisted on wearing those dark, unattractive clothes that gave her a gloomy look, not improved in any way by her natural dark colouring, Orlando knew better than to let himself be fooled by appearances.
Orlando studied her closely. A pair of very dark blue jeans gave no hint of her legs other than their length, which seemed to be quite nice. On top, a black jumper that was at least two sizes too big, hid any curves she might have and Orlando wondered why Wynter hid herself like that; she had no reason to. Her oval shaped face had delicate features; a small, pink mouth with slightly pouting lips, a very feminine nose most women in Hollywood would kill for, high cheekbones and a gentle, yet determined chin.
Still, her features would be nothing without those pretty, mysterious and yet elusive brown eyes. Orlando had once or twice caught Wynter staring at him while he worked, but she would always divert her gaze somewhere else before he could even smile at her. Wynter tossed her long black hair over her shoulder and Orlando found himself grinning. It was the first time he saw Wynter with her hair loose, she usually wore it up in a ponytail and he marvelled at the pureness of its black.
Wynter looked up and caught Orlando staring at her. A hot flush filled her body, but she refused to show her discomfort. In the last few years she had mastered the ability of hiding her emotions, it shouldn’t fail her now.
Grabbing a black dinner jacket, Wynter handed it to Orlando.
“Try this one, Mr. Bloom.” She instructed and Orlando quickly put it on before looking down at her.
“My name’s Orlando, Wynter.” Orlando said with mirth dancing in his eyes. “Mr. Bloom makes me feel old.”
Wynter bit her lower lip, the only external expression of her embarrassment.
“Sorry.” She apologised, instinctively turning to the monosyllables once again; it was safer that way.
Wynter busied herself checking the jacket, looking for possible touches to be done here and there as she tried her hardest to leave the contact as impersonal as possible. The last thing she needed was to make a complete fool of herself groping the actor before her.
Orlando studied Wynter in the mirror as she stood behind him, her eyes scanning his jacket.
“How come I haven’t seen you at lunch in a long time?” Orlando asked, not resisting the urge of doing so. Wynter was a riddle, almost like a shadow in the set and he couldn’t hold his curiosity back
Wynter stilled her movements as she heard his voice, halfway between his right arm and his back. Looking up, brown eyes met equally brown eyes in the mirror for an endless second before she looked away.
“I prefer to be alone.” Was Wynter’s simple answer as she turned her back on Orlando and pretended to busy herself by putting some order to the scattered pieces of fabric on the table. Wynter heard Orlando turning around and she could feel his eyes prodding on her back as if waiting for her answer. Sighing, Wynter lowered her head in defeat when she heard his deep voice.
“It’s a pity.” Orlando said. “Liv and I would be delighted if you joined us every now and then.”
Wynter sucked on her breath at his statement, tears suddenly burning in her eyes.
Who would have guessed it would feel this way? Since her mother Monica had died thirteen years ago, Wynter had forgotten how it was to be loved or even noticed. Her stepmother, younger stepbrothers and sisters and her own father had made sure she forgot something as simple as having someone noticing her presence.
Subtly, Wynter dabbed at the tears as discreetly as she could. Taking a deep breath, she prayed for her voice to sound as neutral as possible and then spoke, her back still turned to him.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to end the fitting right now, Mr. Bloom. I’m sure Tonya will be delighted to finish my job. I’m deeply sorry.”
With those words, Wynter tossed the fabrics aside and then ran out of the room before Orlando could stop her.
“Wynter, wait!” Orlando exclaimed as he tried to follow her, but she was already out of sight, leaving him standing there… extremely confused.