Chapter Thirteen
Thumping on the trailer door woke her, making her jump. Kate rediscovered she was sitting at her desk, with her head pillowed on her arms. She straightened up, feeling her neck and the small of her back scream in protest. “Coming!” she yelled, but it emerged as a croak.
Too much tequila. Now she remembered. She glared at the nearly empty bottle on the desk where her elbow had rested. She had cracked the seal about five minutes after arriving back at the trailer last night and that had been about fifteen minutes after Garrett’s kiss. Three of those minutes had been spent convincing Adrian she had work to do at her desk, so don’t bother trying to coax her to bed tonight. Another five of them had been spent acquiring the tequila.
Then she had tried to get shit-faced and wipe Garrett from her mind. It hadn’t worked so well, for while her body had cooperated and shut down on her nicely, her brain had continued to fire on all cylinders, circling around the kiss endlessly, playing it out from all camera view points and perspectives.
The kiss…and Garrett’s fucked-up reaction afterwards.
No matter how she pulled it apart and tried to refit it, no matter what motives she applied to Garrett, she couldn’t get the pieces to fit.
It just didn’t make sense.
Kate pushed the trailer door open, rather than suffer another pummelling on the metal. She threw her arm up to protect her eyes as a shaft of early morning sunlight pierced her eyes. The sun was just lifting over the horizon.
“Jesus! What time is it, for fuck’s sake?” she demanded, wincing.
“Nearly five,” came the answer.
“Brittany?” Kate forced her eyes to focus despite the glare and saw the P.A. standing at the bottom of the steps. “What the hell?”
“Sorry to wake you,” the teenager said in her high, innocent voice. “But Mary-Ann says you’d better get over to the extras tent pronto.”
“She did? Why?” Mary-Ann was their on-site media coordinator, a sweet young thing carrying a freshly minted communications degree from Stanford. She had been another of Garrett’s perfect finds – she had graduated summa cum laude, but she came at a ridiculously cheap price. As they were parked in the middle of nowhere, the chances that she’d actually have to do anything seriously challenging until they returning to L.A., where there was a whole agency to back her up, was next to zero.
Brittany clutched her clipboard more tightly, her smile fading. “Umm…th.there’s a whole busload and another half a bus of media people at the extras tent, demanding interviews and site tours.”
“What?” Kate stared at her, absorbing it. “A busload? Where are my extras?”
“They’re still in Frisco.”
Kate caught her breath. “The fucking press tossed my extras so they could hitch a ride out to the set?”
Brittany edged backwards in the dirt. “It looks that way. That’s why Mary-Ann wants to see you.”
Kate rubbed at her eyes.
“Kate.” Adrian’s voice.
She looked up. He was strolling toward the trailer, looking fresh and rested, and suddenly oh-so-good. Kate sighed. “Are you aware of what’s happening?”
He glanced at Brittany. She gave a small smile and backed even further away before turning and hurrying toward the big blue extras tent, a hundred yards away. Kate could just see the back end of one of the yellow ex-school buses that shipped the extras out from San Francisco each morning, peeping out from the end of the tent. The sun blasted through the windows, showing every hand print and smear.
Adrian put his foot on the bottom step. “Can I come in?” he asked.
She backed up into the trailer. Adrian followed her, shutting the door behind him.
“Mary-Ann is looking for me,” she warned him. “I have to go.”
“She can survive for five minutes,” he replied. “It’ll be good practice. It won’t be the last time this happens.”
“What happens? Last I heard, we were mentioned on the Late Show. Now all hell is breaking loose.”
“The Internet is what happened.” Adrian picked up the remains of her tequila and swirled the dregs around the bottom of the bottle. Then he tossed the bottle into the trashcan under her desk and parked his butt on the edge of the desk, facing her. “You spent a lot of time the last few weeks talking about Murad and the movie on-line, didn’t you?”
“On Twitter, sure. But those are transitory conversations. Long gone.” She moved into the bedroom to change, peeling off her day-old clothing.
Adrian kept talking behind her, lifting his voice so she could hear. “Nothing on-line is gone forever. You talked about it on Twitter and everyone else re-tweeted. They shared your links and comments on Facebook and Pinterest and MySpace, blogs, any other social network you care to name. People have already been talking about the movie for weeks, speculating about the casting and the history.”
Kate paused from zipping up fresh jeans, stunned. She leaned to one side to glance at Adrian through the door. “And the press just discovered this?”
“The Late Show tipped them off. Letterman is on vacation and they had a guest anchor. Reggie Yima. He’s the comedy actor who did that Star Trek spoof. Friend of yours, Kate?”
He put enough emphasis on the word ‘friend’ that Kate knew he was asking if she had ever taken Reggie Yima to bed. Kate pulled her top down and stepped back out into her office. “I know him enough to know he’s madly in love with his live-in boyfriend.” She smiled at Adrian and ran her fingers through her hair, untangling it so it didn’t look like she had spent the night drinking herself into a stupor at her desk. “Reggie must just like the idea of the movie.”
“A Twitter follower, then?” Adrian suggested.
“Maybe.”
“His plug mentioned the Internet and it was a just the hint for most of the film media to head there. A single Google search brings up nearly twenty thousand relevant hits. They must have peed their pants to see the interest in the movie already happening on-line and grabbed the first available transport out here, afraid they were missing out.”
“How do you know all this? You weren’t watching the Late Show on Tuesday night.”
Adrian gave a lop-sided smile. “I had nothing to do last night, so I borrowed a laptop and went surfing to find out what they’d said on the Late Show.”
Kate had trouble looking him in the eye for a moment. She knew that an explanation was due, but now wasn’t the time.
“The Late Show plug prompted me to search the movie on Google,” he continued, “and I was drowned in hits. It was an eye opener.” Adrian nodded toward the blue tent, which was just visible through the door. “I could hear the press mob as I headed back from the shower trailer this morning, so I veered over there to check out what was happening and found Mary-Ann almost in tears. I propped her up then came here to warn you. Brittany beat me to it.”
“Thanks.”
He shrugged.
The silence that fell was still awkward.
Damn, Kate thought. She didn’t want awkward. She wanted it back like it had been before last night. Why had she screwed it up? Or had she? Why had telling him to stay away for a night screwed it up? Were his feelings hurt? Did he have feelings? Because he hadn’t demonstrated anything more than the most superficial caring at any time.
Kate deliberately moved on. She didn’t need open heart surgery right now. “I really need coffee in the worst way.” She glanced longingly at the espresso machine on her sidebar. “The stew they give the extras is going to have to do.”
Adrian stood up. “It may get rid of your hangover quicker.”
She grimaced. “It’s self-inflicted. Don’t spare me any sympathy.”
“I’m not. But I do know where there’s some T3’s stashed, if you’d like ‘em?”
“They’ll put me to sleep,” she protested. “I need to be totally alert for the barracudas in the press tent.”
“They’re the ones with caffeine in them.”
“Then yes,” she said gratefully. “A whole handful of them and an energy drink to wash them down with.”
“You’ll get two at a time and coffee, to start,” Adrian replied. “Then, if you still need it, we’ll see about the energy drink. We don’t want the press to see you bouncing off walls and wondering about cocaine, either.”
She sighed. “God, no. Fine, two and coffee.” She headed for the door. “I’ll go rescue Mary-Ann from Jaws. Perhaps you could scare up Garrett? He’s big enough bait to keep them occupied and he’s had more than enough practice fending them off. Then we can ease Patrick out of his beauty sleep and into make-up before we put him in front of their cameras.”
* * * * *
It was day three of what Kate and the cast and crew had started calling “Warrior Watch” behind the backs of the media when it happened. By then, tempers had started to frazzle and petty frustrations to build.
And on day three, a sand storm hit and shut down production for the day. Howling, hot desert winds whipped up the bleach dry sand and sent it boiling across the plains, hissing across flat surfaces and skin, making it unpleasant to stand outside for too long. It wore on everyone’s temper.
The local weather forecast said the storm was settling in for at least the next eight hours, so Kate reluctantly called off shooting and set about rescheduling with her department heads, to see what could be salvaged if they jumped to night shooting once the storm was over.
It was the third day that Garrett was ostensibly missing from the daily production meetings. From the beginning he had invited himself along, unaware or uncaring that they were normally a closed session where the head crew members could let off steam and roll up their sleeves and problem solve without worrying about what a sponsor might think of some of the admittedly bizarre behaviour and speech that sometimes emerged from their mouths. Four letter words were the least creative language used.
But Garrett had sat in on the meetings anyway, crowding her small office, even though he had said very little.
Her heads had gathered around her desk, two in the visitor chairs, one in her chair, while Jerry from costumes sat on the sideboard next to her, her sample board folded up and resting on the floor between her knees. “Calum not joining us again?” Jerry asked as the others dusted sand from the folds of their clothes and their hair.
“No,” Kate said shortly, annoyed at her own reaction.
What was it about Garrett’s kiss that bothered her so much? It was just a goddam kiss, after all.
She had found herself thinking about it a lot, in the odd moments when the movie let her. No, that wasn’t accurate enough. When movie business wasn’t red-hot urgent and her mind dropped from top gear into something lower, it turned to Garrett and that kiss. It was like the moment was nudging for top spot in her attention span, but the movie was just beating it out and as soon as the movie relaxed its grip, the kiss and Garrett surged in to take its place.
It wasn’t the kiss itself that was so forcefully demanding her focus. Well, it was, in a way. It had been a helluva kiss.
It was Garrett’s reaction to it that her mind kept turning back to. Like he’d been caught by surprise. Not surprise. Something stronger than that. Shock. Dismay? The light hadn’t been good enough for her to analyse his reaction properly.
But he wasn’t avoiding her because he felt good about what happened, that’s for sure.
Yet, he was the one who kissed her…
And her mind would circle back over the same ground, over and over again.
As Jerry propped her samples board up against the window next to her, Kate reached for the coffee pot and poured her second cup for the day, then eased herself onto the buffet. “Let’s see what we can do about rescheduling some night scenes.”
And the meeting had fallen to business.
As the heads wrangled over what scenes each of their department staff could realistically prepare for in the few short hours’ notice they would receive after the meeting and before tonight’s shooting, Kate picked up her cellphone and called up her Twitter app. She deliberately didn’t let herself think too carefully or second-guess what she was doing. She swyped the text quickly, a direct message that no one else could read.
@DoveAngel You okay? 3 days, no sign. I’m worried.
She hit “send” immediately, not giving herself another chance to debate. Then she put the phone in her pocket. If Garrett’s days were like hers it could take him hours to respond.
Then she refocused on the meeting discussion.
Two minutes later, her phone vibrated against her hip. She was talking and waited until someone else took the reins before sliding the phone back out.
@Lind’stream Your favourite sponsor is just peachy.
She mentally sighed. She could almost hear the ironic tone that would have been delivered with. But the verbal pissing match they had been locked in for the last few weeks – which they had been using for conversation ever since they had met face to face, really – didn’t thrill her in the slightest anymore. Not when she was talking this way. Not with DoveAngel, who had earned a type of trust from her over the weeks and with whom she had shared a late night understanding of the strange ways the world worked.
In between parrying questions from her department heads, she swyped out her response.
@DoveAngel. My fucking sponsor is a major pain in the ass.
@DoveAngel. I’m asking about *you* — the guy who kissed me.
No response came for a while. She ended up putting the phone down by her hip, forgotten.
* * * * *
Garrett caught a hint of Winter’s scent just before she sat next to him on the sofa. “No one has yet proved it’s possible to answer a cellphone simply by staring at it.”
He turned the phone face down on his thigh and looked at her.
“I thought I might save you another four minutes,” she said. “That’s how long you’ve been staring at the screen.” She let her gaze drift toward the phone. “Kate?” she asked.
Anger touched him. “Is nothing private between you three? How long did it take before they made my humiliation a bedtime entertainment for you?”
She pressed her lips together for a moment, studying him. Her expression softened. “Garrett, I’m married to two of the most reticent men on the planet. Women talk. Not those two. Not unless it’s necessary.”
Genuine confusion touched him. “Then…”
Winter smiled gently. “You came away from her in the beer garden looking like the cat that’d had his tail yanked and you haven’t been near her for three days. Something happened in that beer garden. Something that scared you…or didn’t scare you enough.” Her smile widened. “And now you’re giving me your best stone face, so I know I’m right.”
Garrett dropped his gaze to the cellphone in his hand. His heart was stirring.
“Just answer her, Garrett. Not answering has a meaning for her, too, you know.”
He looked up. “I’m beginning to understand a little why Nial was drawn to you.”
Winter laughed. “He knew way too much about me before he even met me. Sebastian fed him tall stories for years before he got to meet me. I think the real live version of me was possibly a letdown for him.”
Garrett shook his head. “An adjustment, maybe. Not a letdown.”
Winter grinned. “And you’re changing the subject.” She picked up his hand and turned it over, so the cellphone was face up and got to her feet. “I’ll leave you alone so you can answer. Be nice. You weren’t the only one who was in the beer garden that night.”
“Do you know what happened?” he demanded, shocked.
She shook her head. “But I felt your heart racing when I turned your hand over just then and I know it’s not me making it do that. It’s Kate and whatever happened the other night. Vampire hearts don’t race for just anything. And Kate isn’t your average insensitive director. She would have been affected, too.”
Winter picked up the laptop from the desk and left the trailer, leaving him alone as she had promised. There was a blast of hot air and a swirl of sand as the door opened, then the noise was muted again.
He rested his thumbs against the keys, staring at the two lines on the screen and marvelling once more at the depth of perception those two simple lines of text represented.
* * * * *
Kate almost jumped when her phone buzzed by her hip.
@Lind’stream. Best leave this alone. Please. Go hug Adrian.
Melancholy rose within her even as she told herself that this was as it should be. Garrett had given the only proper response possible.
She turned back to the meeting, trying to sell herself on the idea that it was for the best, but now all she could think about was all the late night silent, intimate conversations she’d had with him.
How much she had admired Garrett over the years for his business acumen and outrageous strategies that had always worked.
Hell, they’d even worked against her. For now, anyway.
* * * * *
Winter shook Sebastian awake. “I think someone’s poking around the server trailer. It sounds like they’re testing the door.”
He was instantly awake. He slid out of the bed and padded to the chair where he had tossed their clothes, sort of, as he had seduced Winter onto the bed. With the whole production ground to a halt, they had stolen a moment when no one would be looking for them to shuck off their disguises for a while.
Sebastian glanced out the window. “I can’t see anything with all this sand.” He looked back at her as he tied back his hair and pulled on a tee-shirt. “How come you heard it and I didn’t?”
“You were snoring.”
He looked affronted. “I don’t snore.”
He didn’t snore. It was hard to describe what he did as sleep. It was the lightest kind of sleeping, if it was. Since she had “healed” his vampirism, he wasn’t exactly human anymore either, so his metabolism didn’t need the full restorative sleep normal humans did. But Winter just smiled at him, enjoying his indignation.
Sebastian glanced out the window again, frowning. “If they’re fucking with my servers I’ll kill ‘em.”
“Spoken like a true nerd,” Winter said.
The blast of acrid air and sand as he opened the door convinced Winter she didn’t need to go with him. She settled back under the sheet, more than happy to sleep, even if that meant she did snore.
* * * * *
When her phoned buzzed again, Kate really did jump. It made everyone stop and look at her.
“Sorry,” she apologized, picking it up. “I need to get this.”
The chime was Adrian’s unique signature and he wouldn’t have interrupted her production meeting with a call for anything trivial.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him.
“Not on the phone,” he said. “Can you meet me in the extras tent? Now.”