Changing the Script

by Lee Winter

  Vaughan nodded. “By the way, I hear you caused a fuss in town last night. Had a fight with those movie people?”

  “Not quite how it went down.”

  “And you gave the director an earful.”

  He sounded almost hopeful. Had Alex pissed in the man’s cornflakes or something? “Do you…know her?”

  “She came through here first thing this morning looking for you.”

  She did? “Why?”

  “Something about your injury? I told her that was a police matter and none of her concern. Who knows why people want to know when a police officer’s incapacitated? It’s not like she knows you; she’s from out of town. And it’s not like you make new friends.” He smirked.

  And screw you, too.

  He leaned in and his voice became conspiratorial. “Told her if she was angling to get around you somehow, figure out when you were away so she could get up to something dodgy on that film set of hers, I’d be on her like a blowfly on shit.”

  Oh boy. “And what’d she say?”

  “She called me an asshole.” His nostrils flared. “When I objected, she said, ‘Oh, sorry, I thought you knew.’”

  It took every ounce of willpower not to react to that, but a laugh was dying to burst out. Sam’s eyes watered with the restraint. “Oh. I see. Anything else?”

  “Not much.” Her boss started packing up his paperwork. “Nothing to trouble you. You just keep watch on all your little spot fires out here and leave me to sort out the big fish, okay?”

  Lovely bit of condescension. It would have almost been worth the pain to plant her boot in his ass on his way out. But then she’d have to burn her favorite boots.

  He put a folder under his arm and grabbed his car keys. “By the way, what’s this I hear about you having a new nickname? Hukapapa?”

  “The Wild Boars are being smart asses again. Dino thinks he’s skilled in psychological warfare.”

  “Hukapapa…that means ice and hard frost, right? Why are they calling you that? Isn’t it a good thing to be cool?” His brow puckered.

  If he couldn’t work out the nastier subtext to that slur, she wasn’t about to enlighten him. “Not a clue.” She opened the door for him. “Maybe Dino just admires me.”

  “You? Oh sure. That’d be it.”

  Sam narrowed her eyes. What an asshole. Alex really did have a point.

  CHAPTER 8

  Not Just a River in Egypt

  Alex stared after the retreating form of one properly enraged Sam Keegan. Why did everything keep going pear-shaped between them? She’d made an effort to stop by the police station this morning to see if the other woman was any better after she’d staggered out of the pub the previous night. And maybe…she felt a little guilty.

  Alex stood by her words. No one had the right to judge her or Shezan without having all the facts. But maybe she could have saved it for a less public place, given Sam was the local copper and all. When Alex had been starting out, how many times had people questioned her professional decisions, often in front of her crew? Even though she ran her own indie production company?

  So, first thing, Alex had hoped to smooth things over. It was good business, she’d told herself on the drive over: Don’t piss off the local law. Only problem was that instead of Sam, she’d found an officious sergeant at the station, acting as if Alex was after state secrets. So…she might have said a few things. And a few more. Christ, she needed to work on her censor button.

  “Do you want it eight- or ten-feet high?”

  “Hmm?” Alex’s attention was drawn back to the set builder. His eyes kept darting to the exit as if half expecting Sam to come thundering back for round two. “Oh.” She tried to gather her thoughts. “I’ll let you know. I just have to check on something.” Alex marched over to the production trailer.

  “Quincy, what the bleeding hell did you do to Sam Keegan?” she said by way of hello.

  “Ah, that.” He shrugged. “Headed her off at the pass. Told her we wouldn’t pay her a cent. Insurance won’t touch it because you didn’t even hit her.”

  Oh hell. “I pulled off the main road like a maniac. Reversed across her path, gave her nowhere to go…”

  “And yet didn’t hit her. It’s done. You’re absolved.”

  “But…”

  “No. It’s settled. This is my purview.” His tone firmed. “I don’t tell you how to direct, do I?”

  Her lips compressed. “Could you not be so Hollywood for just one minute and do the decent thing?”

  “Definitely not. Decent sends a signal that we’re easy marks. You’ll have a bunch of locals faking accidents and sticking their hands out for money.”

  “Oh, come on, the Kiwis aren’t exactly known for being a litigious bunch.”

  “I’m not about to test the theory.” Quincy shrugged. “Gotta say, we’re damned lucky she didn’t poke this through official channels. ‘Cop-killer Director’ wouldn’t have looked pretty in the news.”

  “But I didn’t kill her!”

  “Like that would make a difference.” He snorted.

  “Why didn’t she press charges?” Alex asked curiously.

  “Because she reeks of honesty.” Quincy’s eyes lit up as if that was an unexpected, useful weakness.

  “And we’re screwing her over for it. That’s wrong.”

  He shrugged. “Only morally wrong. I’m just doing my job. Banging down our costs is why I was hired. So not paying a dime to Roger’s A1 Mechanics is an excellent place to start.”

  “God, I hate money sometimes. It causes weird shit.”

  “Well, I just made your weird shit go away. You’re welcome.”

  Alex inhaled. Glancing at the timetable on the white board behind Quincy, she said, “I should go. I’m late for ‘Shezan meets Poacher’s Daughter’ rehearsals.”

  “Wouldn’t want to miss that,” Quincy said dryly. “There’ll be enough wooden acting to start a forest fire. And that’s before you get to the crap dialog.”

  She couldn’t argue. “I’m tempted to tell the actresses not to bother to learn their lines yet because that scene stays as-written over my dead body.”

  “Careful, Levitin. Directors with grand visions on B-grade flicks tend to get cut off at the knees in this business.”

  “What’s so bad about having a vision for excellence?”

  “Nothing. Usually. I’m just reminding you to lower your expectations. Yes, you can make it a bit better. I hope you do. But always remember we’re not making Schindler’s List here.”

  So much for him not telling her how to direct. To hell with that. She’d lower her expectations when she was dead. Alex stood to go. “Nice pep talk.”

  “You’re welcome.” Quincy snorted and turned back to his work.

  Alex paced the paddock outside the poacher’s tent set, waiting for Melody to deign to appear. Studio exec’s kid or not, this was unacceptable. Alice had gone to drag the actress’s pretty blonde ass back here more than five minutes ago. Melody was obviously putting up a fight.

  Chloe was sprawled out on a canvas chair nearby, checking her texts. “Hey, did you know Summer’s buying goats for villages in Africa?”

  “Of course she is.” Alex paused her pacing. “What does Bess say about it?”

  “The usual. Not much beyond affectionate eye rolls. And something about how one goat should be named after their former showrunner.” Chloe pocketed her phone. “Bess is so whipped.”

  “Oh to be that whipped,” Alex murmured.

  “Yeah.” Chloe chuckled. “Hell, I’d endure being mocked 24/7 by my friends to be that happy.”

  “Wouldn’t we all?” Her words came out far too wistful.

  Their eyes met. This was weird. Their best friends were in an intense relationship and yet she and Chloe were barely acquaintances. It was an artificial intimacy�
��there, but not really. Throw in Alex being Chloe’s boss, and it didn’t get any less weird.

  “Maybe one day I’ll be in a love affair so sappy I won’t care how ‘out there’ my lover’s whims sound,” Chloe drawled. “If I worship at the altar of the right deity, of course.”

  “Oh? Which deity did you have in mind?”

  “Chocolate goddess,” Chloe said. “I like the daily sacrifices required.”

  Alex laughed. “Sounds legit. But please convert to Her Cocoaness after my movie. I don’t want Skye having to resew all the costumes again.”

  “Fair enough. Hey, when are we getting an eyeful of Shezan’s new threads?”

  “Soon.” Alex dropped into the canvas chair beside Chloe, drumming her fingers on the wooden arms. “This delay is ridiculous,” she grumbled. “Melody’s only got two dozen lines in the whole movie.” She glanced over to the First Assistant Director. “Leslie? Can you try again on Melody?”

  The woman reached for her walkie talkie. “Alice, can we get an ETA on getting Ms. Howard to set?”

  “I can’t find her!” Alice’s voice squawked back.

  Alex sighed and turned back to Chloe. “Are you excited about your first starring role?” she asked.

  “I know it’s getting flamed and shit, but I’m really stoked. I’ll be the first ever Maori chick to play a fantasy lead for a major studio.”

  That made sense. This would be a big deal for Chloe and her community. All the more reason to fix the rot. And as much as the other woman tried to hide it, Alex could hear the worry underneath her laid-back answer. Alex gave her a measured look. “I promise I’ll make it worthy, Chloe. You won’t be embarrassed by it when I’m done.”

  Chloe looked intrigued. “Cool. But honestly, I figured even if the movie was complete crap, I’d still get an all-expenses trip home to see my family.” Something caught her eye, and she pointed. Alex followed her finger.

  Melody was prodding her way slowly across the paddock in heels, somehow looking regal despite all the ruts and manure. Leslie leaped onto the walkie talkie to notify Alice.

  “Our megastar’s arrived,” Chloe said.

  Mega-something. “You’re being kind,” Alex muttered.

  “If you’d met her dad, you’d say it’s a miracle she’s so normal.”

  “Really?”

  “Met him at one of Skye’s big industry parties. He never let anyone forget he’s a someone. Spent most of the time making these passive-aggressive jokes about how he’d get more work done if his family wasn’t around bugging him. Skye never invited him again.”

  “Hmm.” Alex tilted her head, considering the parallels. “How interesting she took this role. Angry daughter faces off with abusive father.”

  “Think maybe someone’s sending Daddy a message?”

  “No idea.” Just as likely Melody didn’t realize why she was drawn to it. After all, that required self-awareness.

  Chloe tapped her script. “So this scene is the first meeting with the daughter and Shezan, right? How do you see it?”

  “Shezan would look at her fancy hair and impractical outfit and think she’s an oddity, something exotic that draws her in. She’s never seen a white woman before, either.” Alex inhaled. How trope-filled was this damned movie?

  Chloe eyed her. “You don’t like this, do you? The whole racial and social divide shit? Or, um, any of it?”

  “Well, not as it is, I admit. I tend to prefer movies with messages. But don’t worry, I’ll make this much better.” She gave Chloe her most reassuring smile.

  “So what’s Shezan’s message?” Chloe asked, sounding curious. “Has it got one?”

  Make the studio VP’s daughter famous? Alex hoped she sounded confident when she replied. “I’m still working on a different approach to what’s written. Something fresh.”

  “Choice.” Chloe yawned, then stood, stretching. She ran her fingers through her long black hair. “Course it might be a bit hard for some people if you come up with anything less than entirely wholesome.” She snorted.

  “What do you mean?”

  Chloe’s eyes settled on the slowly approaching Melody. “Haven’t you noticed how full-on religious my co-star is? She wears this huge crucifix and quotes scripture all the time. This morning, the caterer copped an earful of Proverbs. Something about a calf fattened with hatred?”

  Alex took in Melody’s blonde cheerleader looks and don’t-care-about-anything expression and tried to marry them with Chloe’s words.

  Chloe added more quietly, “Look, she hasn’t strayed into Leviticus territory yet, so I don’t think she knows about you and The Gay. I won’t tell.”

  “I see.” Great. A powerful diva on a religious crusade? Lucky me. She appreciated Chloe’s loyalty, even though Alex’s sexuality wasn’t a secret. One internet search would be all it took. “Right. Shall we get to it?”

  “Sure.” Chloe grinned. “I’m all set to look shocked and awed by the sight of some white chick in safari pants.”

  God. This script.

  The rehearsals did not improve Alex’s opinion of Melody’s abilities. In fact, she was getting worse. Her delivery was flat, she sometimes stepped on Chloe’s lines, and her gaze never stayed on her co-star, instead meandering off to nowhere.

  Maybe Quincy had been right: It was ridiculous thinking about a vision when all she had was mediocre to work with.

  Except that wasn’t quite true, was it? Alex had a top cinematographer, a leading costume designer, a stunning backdrop, and a decent lead actress. Chloe was gamely holding her own in spite of Melody’s efforts. Also, their bad-boy poacher was off-the-charts creepy, and all his scenes were memorable at least. So, really, all she had to do was fix the rest. But right now, the absolute worst was right in front of her.

  “Okay,” she called to Melody, “can we try it again, but this time, really up the energy? Pretend this is real.”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing?” Melody pouted.

  That was her trying? Out of the corner of her eye, Alex caught Chloe’s smirk. “All right, you two, step closer. Let’s try a deeper frisson. Maybe you’re each the most intriguing person the other has ever clapped eyes on? Can we try that? Just turn up the intensity to a hundred, okay?”

  With a shake of her blonde hair, Melody took two steps closer to Chloe and began her line. “Where on earth did you come from? What are you even?” she demanded.

  Chloe, instead of answering immediately, gave her a long, considering gaze and then took one more step, right inside Melody’s space. After an amused, appraising look, she teased, “What are you?”

  Alex’s mouth went dry. The line was supposed to be delivered like a challenge, an annoyed comeback for the arrogant newcomer, but that had come out almost…sultry.

  Melody’s face slackened as she stared back, not saying her line. “I-I’m Jennifer,” she finally said. “I’m here with my father.” Her voice was lower, huskier now.

  What the hell is happening?

  The actresses stared at each other. Then, slowly, Chloe dropped her eyes to Melody’s lips.

  Redness flooded Melody’s cheeks. “And you can’t be here! You’re setting all those traps for my father and he’s furious.” Her words came out in a breathy rush.

  Chloe offered a crooked smile. “Why do you care if he’s mad?”

  “I don’t!” Melody gave her a frosty glare. “I’m my own woman.”

  Chloe laughed. It was gentle and faintly mocking and, God, it was perfect. “Sure you are.”

  The rest of the scene rehearsal played out. Alex remembered to call “cut,” but long after the word tumbled from her lips, she sat unmoving, staring at the actresses in astonishment. The entire set had gone eerily still.

  Melody swung back to face Alex with her usual resting bitch face. “Well?” she asked. “Was that more intense? Enough e
nergy?” The derisive sneer would have been insulting if not for the redness that still lingered on her neck and cheeks betraying her. Her fingers were wrestling together in a nervous tangle.

  “Much.” Alex hid her jubilation. “Great job, you two,” she said briskly. “Everyone, take five. Chloe, a word?”

  She hurried Chloe away from the set as Melody plonked her perfect ass into a canvas chair and grabbed her phone, expression back to vacant.

  “Oh my God,” Alex said in a low voice.

  “I know, right?” Chloe snickered. “I think I woke the dead. Shit!”

  “She responds when you flirt. You hit a nerve of some sort.”

  “I was barely even flirting. Like, I was feeling pissed off after our Leviticus conversation and thought of doing something to stir up her shit. I had no idea she’d…” Chloe blinked at Alex, “…go all breathless and weird.”

  Alex’s mind whirred. “You two have chemistry. Keep doing what you’re doing and see what happens. Don’t overplay it, though. And I think it’d be best if we don’t explain any of this to Melody.”

  “Sure.” Chloe paused. “So, do you think she’s a closet job? Or maybe she doesn’t even realize she’s giving off lez vibes?”

  “No idea. The reason isn’t the point. Let’s just harness it.” She strode back to the main group, Chloe in tow. “All right, people, moving on…”

  Chloe went all in on the next few run-throughs, stepping into Melody’s space each time, touching her arm, smiling, holding her gaze…

  If Melody had worked out what her co-star was up to, she gave no sign. Not…consciously. However, the longer scenes went on, the more she began to mirror Chloe’s actions and expressions. At one point, Melody drew in a breath, held it, and looked into Chloe’s eyes as though her co-star was utter perfection.

  It was…oh Lord, it was everything. Lightning in a bottle. So real, so damned brilliant. So much so that Chloe drew in a deep, surprised breath.

  In that moment, everything became clear to Alex. A vision was crystallizing, a plan for how her movie could be rewritten and shot. Shezan would fall for the daughter, not the father. It would be subtle, layered, subtextual. And above all, Alex would make it beautiful.