by J. J. Murray
Once Katharina was fully dressed, she moved around the cabin, bending, stretching, and spinning. “What’s this made out of, burlap? I’m itching all over already. The boots have holes. The right boot is too big, and the left boot is too small. On top of that, it all smells like mothballs. I like realism as much as anyone, but this is ridiculous.”
“You think maybe it’s an actual slave’s outfit, Miss Minola?” Bianca asked.
Katharina scowled. “Right. It would have to be over one hundred and fifty years old, Bianca.” She snatched the headset and handed it to Bianca. “Put on my crown.”
Bianca placed the headset snugly around Katharina’s headband, positioning the microphone against her right cheek. She saw a switch on the headset and slid it to the side.
“Does the headset have to be turned on every time?” Walt asked.
“Nah,” Fish said. “It’s always on. That’s a dummy switch.” He typed several commands and watched a blank monitor glow to life. “Would you look at that?”
Walt looked at the screen and blinked. “That’s amazing. The picture is so clear. You can see Bianca’s pores.”
“All high definition all the way,” Fish bragged. “Checking zoom.”
Bianca’s face filled the screen.
“Now we’re cookin’,” Fish said.
Katharina sat. “Time for makeup. You’ll have to do it. The others are all stuck in Vegas.”
Bianca froze. “But you’re a runaway slave, Miss Minola. You wouldn’t wear makeup.”
“I don’t care. I will not leave this cabina without makeup. I haven’t been seen in public without makeup in … a long time.” Fifteen years. I didn’t even wear any makeup for my first screen test.
Bianca glanced around the room. “Um, I didn’t bring any. You know I don’t wear any makeup, Miss Minola.”
“Well, get a kit from Sly.”
Oops. We didn’t think about this, did we? “Um, I already talked to Sly. He didn’t bring any makeup kits because he knew you were bringing your own makeup artist. You wouldn’t want me to put makeup on you, anyway. I’d probably mess you up.” And I’d enjoy every minute of it.
Katharina rubbed her cheeks. “My face can’t shine, Bianca.”
“Put some dirt on it, then, Miss Minola. Isn’t mud supposed to be good for your skin?”
Katharina sighed. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
Pietro slammed open the door and yelled, “Andiamo!” He left the door open behind him, Curtis blinking his blue-green eyes their way.
“Um, that means—”
“I know what it means,” Katharina interrupted. “It means get the hell out.” She blinked up at Pietro. “I’ll come out when I’m good and ready, Fonzi. And as you can see, Fonzi, I am not good and ready, so you will just have to wait.”
Pietro waited, his arms crossed, cold air filling the room.
Katharina stayed in her chair, her arms crossed, feeling the cold air flowing into the room and sneaking up her leggings. “You mind shutting the door, Fonzi?” she asked.
“Is Alessandro.”
Katharina smiled. “Whatever, Fonzi.”
They locked eyes.
I am more warmly dressed, Pietro thought. She will crack first.
I am closer to the fire, Katharina thought. He will crack first.
Minutes passed.
Bianca shivered. “Miss Minola?”
Katharina looked hard into Pietro’s eyes. He has the Devil’s black eyes. He is evil. I will not back down.
Pietro returned Katharina’s stare. She has … beautiful eyes. I like how oval, how sexy—But she is evil! I will not back down.
“Miss Minola,” Bianca pleaded, “the draft is making the fire burn faster, and we’re almost out of dry wood, so maybe we should, um, go.”
Shit! Katharina thought. She stood slowly. “I am now ready.”
Pietro pointed to the mule. “Go. You ride.”
“No.” Katharina breezed by Pietro to the porch and stopped. “Well, come on, Fonzi. Don’t keep me waiting.” She walked down one stair step and stopped. I knew it! That stank beast has my blue-green eyes! She blinked at Curtis, and Curtis blinked back. Kind of pretty, actually, but I am so pissed at the world this morning. Better let my diva reputation be my guide. She leaned as closely as she dared and looked Curtis in the eye. “This mule has got to go.”
Pietro nodded. “Yes. Go. You ride.”
Katharina backed up the stairs and stood by the rocker. “I am not getting on that thing again. Bianca!”
Bianca stumbled through the doorway holding her stomach. “Yes, Miss Minola?”
“Tell Fonzi here that I cannot ride this mule because of those eyes.”
Bianca felt a gorge rise in her throat for real and tore off the porch, falling over and vomiting behind the cabin.
“Never mind, Bianca,” Katharina said, turning her attention to Pietro. “Fonzi, let me explain something to you. This mule has my eyes. I’m sure no one told you”—though it is a lie—”that I do not work with anyone or anything that has my eyes.”
Pietro looked from Curtis’s right eye to Katharina’s eyes. “No. You have Mule’s eyes.”
Say what? “Fonzi, I am older than this mule.” I can’t believe I just said that. “What I meant to say is that this mule is younger than me.”
Pietro scratched his head. “Che?”
Katharina enunciated her words and spoke loudly. “I had these eyes first.”
“Che?”
“Oh, for the love of …” Katharina squared her shoulders. “No … mule! I … not … ride! Mule … must … go!”
Pietro smiled. “Yes. Mule go. You ride.”
Katharina’s feet were already killing her, her assistant was barfing all over Canada, and a massive moron who couldn’t understand English was trying to get her to ride a mule. Wait a minute. What do they put on horses? “Blinders! Mule must wear blinders!”
Pietro widened his eyes. “Mule can see.” He ran a finger in front of Curtis’s right eye, and Curtis’s eye lazily followed his finger. “See?”
Katharina gave up and walked off the porch. “Never mind, you moron. Where do I go?”
Pietro smiled. “Go. Yes. You ride.”
Katharina threw up her hands and stormed away in the direction of her retching assistant, who was stumbling ahead of her through the woods.
* * *
“Here we go, sports fans,” Fish said. “And it is a beautiful day to make a film here at the friendly confines in the middle of nowhere. It almost feels like Chicago in January, I’m tellin’ ya. I’m Fish, and this is my broadcast partner, Walt, and we’ll be giving you the play-by-play on this glorious morning. Target is leaving Cabin 3 for the stream, and after last night’s rainstorm, the stream is much deeper and faster today, isn’t it, Walt?”
“You wish you could announce Cubs’ games, don’t you?” Walt asked.
“You know it, Walt,” Fish said. “That’s right, sports fans, it rained to beat the band last night. Tubs full, not buckets. Huge bullmastiffs, not dachshunds. The heavens opened up and poured Clydesdales, not ponies.”
“You’re beating that metaphor to death, Fish,” Walt said. “Get on with it.”
“The headset cam is a go and working fine. Houston, we have liftoff.”
“And now you’re mixing your metaphors.” Walt shook his head. “You are seriously strange, Fish.”
“Thank you, Walt. But it ain’t easy. I have to work at it. Play ball!”
Katharina caught up to Bianca, who was still doubled over, drool dribbling from her lower lip to the ground. “Do you know where you’re going, Bianca?”
I’m know I’m going to spew again, Bianca thought. “I think it’s this way, Miss Minola.” She nodded to the right. “Sly went that way.”
“What’s that sound?” Katharina asked.
Bianca looked up and smiled. “A stream. I am so thirsty. I have to rinse out my vomit breath.” She stood and loped away, Katharina f
ollowing, Curtis and Pietro trailing behind.
Katharina didn’t look back, threading her way through scrub pines until a roaring stream stopped her cold. This wasn’t here last night!
Bianca gulped from the stream. “This is so good, Miss Minola,” she said, cupping the water in her hands and taking healthy slurps. “You have to taste it. It’s delicious and so icy cold.”
Katharina shook her head. “You just … drink any ol’ water passing by?”
Bianca looked up. “It’s refreshing and clean.”
“It’s full of fish shit and piss. I’ll pass.” Katharina looked up and down the stream, water tumbling over rocks, several miniwaterfalls splashing into swirling pools. “Now, where’s the bridge?”
Bianca stood, wiping her chin. “There wasn’t one last night, Miss Minola.”
Katharina turned to frown at Pietro. “Where’s the bridge, Fonzi?”
Pietro halted Curtis within inches of Katharina’s back. “No bridge. Mulo. You ride.”
No mulo, he’s an idiot, he’s high, Katharina thought. “I am getting tired of repeating myself, Fonzi. I am not getting on that thing ever again. Ever.” Katharina saw several flat rocks, just under the roiling surface, that formed a lazy line across the creek. “I can just step on those rocks. Look, Bianca. They’re like stepping-stones.”
“I don’t know, Miss Minola,” Bianca said. “That water is moving by pretty fast.”
“You go first,” Katharina said, giving Bianca a little shove.
Bianca, light on her feet, splashed across the stepping-stones with ease and climbed up the bank on the other side. “They were pretty mossy rocks, Miss Minola, and the current was pretty powerful. I’d take the mule. The mule went through the stream last night, right?”
It did? “I didn’t hear it splashing around last night,” Katharina said.
Because you were too busy complaining, wench. Bianca shook the water from her boots. “It rained hard last night. This must be the runoff.”
“It rained?” Katharina asked. “No, it didn’t.”
“It did, Miss Minola,” Bianca said. “You must have slept better than I did. Please take the mule. If you fall in …”
Katharina threw back her head. “If you can do it, so can I. I won’t fall in, Bianca.”
Oh, please do, Bianca thought. I want a lifetime memory right now!
Katharina took a hesitant step to the first stone, the hem of her dress sucking up water and pulling her slightly downstream. She stepped back to dry land and hitched up her dress a few inches. She took another shaky step and planted her foot. “See? Nothing to it.” She took a longer step to the next stone—
And slipped.
Pietro caught her by her shoulders before she could go fully under, pulling her back to drip in front of Curtis.
Katharina looked at what was once a light brown dress. “Why didn’t you tell me the rocks were slippery, Bianca?” Katharina yelled, icy water bubbling through the holes in her boots.
“I told you they were mossy, Miss Minola.”
“And that obviously didn’t mean shit to me, Bianca!” Katharina said.
“I’m sorry, Miss Minola. I’ll be more specific from now on.”
Katharina stared hard at Pietro but said nothing.
“You okay?” Pietro asked.
Katharina said nothing more.
“Mule go,” Pietro said. “You ride.”
Katharina ignored him and started down the hill beside the stream, her dress sloshing side to side, dodging birch trees and pine trees while skidding over lichen-covered boulders and rocks. The more she descended the hill, the more the stream became deeper, faster, and louder, the boulders in the water larger and mossier.
Bianca followed Katharina’s progress from the other side, Pietro and Curtis stepping silently behind.
At the very bottom of the steep hill, the stream widened to fifty feet across and at least three feet deep.
Vincenzo appeared on the opposite bank holding a camera, a sizable monitor at his feet. “Yes! This is good, Katharina! This will make an excellent shot. A wonderful idea!” He waved her over. “I will take wide shots, too. From waist down only!”
Katharina blinked. That man is high. I am not crossing here. She looked back up the hill.
“Come, come!” Vincenzo cried. “The light is perfect! The mist is rising! The sun is slanting! It is glorious! The water is so clear and reflects the trees and the clouds! You come!”
If he starts singing “Wade in the Water,” Katharina thought, I will spontaneously combust.
“She’ll go across,” Walt said.
“No, she won’t,” Fish said. “That water is barely above freezing.”
“She’ll go,” Walt said. “I know she will.”
Fish laughed. “Well, can she swim? The current might take her downstream. That dress is heavy-duty. It could weigh her down, and she could drown.” He blinked. “That would be better, actually. The element of danger. Lots of thrashing. We have to remember the suspense factor.”
“She’ll make it,” Walt said. “But will your headset make it?”
“It’s fully waterproof. In fact, it would be better if she went under and tumbled downstream a while. We might even get a few shots of some fish looking at her. How deep is it there?”
Walt stared at Fish. “You’re weird and you’re warped.”
“I thought I was strange.”
“That, too.”
* * *
Katharina turned to Pietro. “Will your mule make it across?”
Pietro shook his head quickly. “No. Mule not swim. Mule sink. Mule drown.”
No great loss, Katharina thought. She looked at Vincenzo, who was letting Bianca look through the camera. “Bianca, you’ll have to come back here and carry me.”
“Oh no,” Vincenzo said. “You are a woman alone. Come, come. The mist! The sunlight! The water! The clouds! It is perfect, Katharina!”
That man is out of his freaking mind. Katharina looked briefly at Pietro. He could carry me across. He could probably throw me across. I bet he’d like that.
“Katharina!” Vincenzo had the camera on his shoulder. “What a wonderful opening scene this will be! It will take the audience’s breath away! Come, come!”
It will take my life away! No! No! I stay! I stay! Katharina set her jaw. Forget this nonsense, she thought. She walked past Pietro and Curtis and struggled up the hill and out of sight.
Pietro kissed Curtis on the nose, turned Curtis around, and began a slow ascent.
“Now what?” Bianca whispered to Vincenzo.
“We’ll leave her be,” Vincenzo whispered. “She’s a woman alone, right? Let’s leave her alone for a while.”
“She doesn’t have the ability to be alone,” Bianca moaned. “She’s going to—”
“Bianca!” echoed all around them.
“See, Vincenzo?” Bianca pouted. “I gotta go.”
Vincenzo touched her arm. “You’re definitely earning your keep, there, missy.”
Bianca giggled. “Well, thank ya kindly, Tex.”
Chapter 15
“She’s mumbling again,” Walt said.
“Up volume,” Fish said.
Katharina crashed through the woods, branches and briars catching at her sopping dress and slashing her arms. “I have never done method acting. Only the deranged, the desperate, the English, and the Australians do that shit anymore! I use a damn script, and the script creates my character! Bianca! And when I have a damn script, which I obviously don’t, but whenever I do have a damn script, I change it and do what I damn well please with it until I like my character. Bianca! Where’s the damn script? Why isn’t this damn path marked? Why isn’t there a damn path? Are they trying to kill me the first day? Bianca!”
Bianca caught up, out of breath and still feeling queasy. “Yes, Miss Minola.”
“Are you puked out yet?” Katharina asked.
“I think so,” Bianca said. “I’m feeling much better.”
Not. “Thanks for asking.”
They had almost reached their cabin. “I only asked so you don’t puke inside.”
Katharina waited until Bianca opened the cabin door before walking in and slamming the door in Bianca’s face.
Bianca knocked.
“Who is it?” Katharina yelled.
Who else would it be, you wench? “Bianca, Miss Minola.”
“Well, get your ass in here.”
Bianca opened the door, stepping in. The fire sputtered fitfully in the fireplace, so Bianca added several more dry logs.
Katharina struggled with the buttons on the back of the dress. “Help me out of this shit, Bianca. Damn.”
Bianca unbuttoned the dress, then went to work on Katharina’s sopping boots, pulling them off and emptying drips of water on the floor as Katharina pulled down the top of the dress. She let it flop in front of her.
“Give me your coat.”
Bianca draped her coat over Katharina’s shoulders.
“Go get some more wood.”
Bianca stepped out, saw Pietro, mouthed, “More wood, please,” and stepped back inside.
“Where’s the wood?” Katharina asked.
“Alessandro is getting us some.”
Katharina stretched her wet toes toward the fireplace screen. “I told you to go get it. We don’t need Fonzi’s help.”
“I’ll go back out, then, Miss Minola.” And without my coat. Lovely.
“Check the fax machine first.”
Oh God, Katha-diva! Just because your life is out of control doesn’t mean … Never mind. “There’s nothing in the tray, Miss Minola.”
“Well, is it turned on?”
“Yes.” Bianca tramped to the door.
“I know what they’re trying to do,” Katharina said in a soft voice.
Bianca froze.
“They’re trying to turn me into a slave.” Katharina wiggled her toes in the air. “That’s what they’re trying to do. Look at how they’re treating me. Look at how I’m dressed. Look where the hell we are. They’re starving me, treating me like shit, and making me wear these nasty clothes. I ought to call the NAACP on their asses. It’s an outrage.”
Bianca took a deep breath and moved silently toward Katharina. “Or, it’s the opportunity of a lifetime for you to create an original character from scratch.”