Vengeance

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Thank you,’ Kirsten smiled fondly. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

  Laurence and Dermott Campbell were strolling towards the dark cavern in the trees of Scout Island which was being made ready for that night’s shoot. Tom was on Laurence’s shoulders and as they reached the clearing he started to grab at the overhanging branches, jerking Laurence backwards and laughing at the way Laurence scolded and shook him. The sun was dappling through the leaves casting strange patterns over the disorderly mass of equipment and the dank smell of sodden earth rose from the ground. All around them the scenes and props guys were assisting in the construction of the set, which for the main ritual consisted of not much more than the altar, but the couple of scenes leading up to the ritual entailed the building of a voodoo temple and its various sections of worship. Those scenes would be shot after the main ritual which called for a vaulted arbor just like the one Laurence and Campbell were walking through, and, providing everything went to schedule, there was one further scene to be done at dawn which called for the construction of a tumbledown shack on the banks of the bayou.

  ‘I couldn’t help overhearing you and Helena talking just now, Dermott,’ Laurence said, as they wandered towards a partially constructed camera platform. ‘And I’m afraid I’ve got to ask what it was all about.’

  He wasn’t looking at Campbell so missed the sudden twitch that crossed Campbell’s face. Campbell stopped, waiting for Laurence to turn back. When Laurence did Campbell’s momentary unease had vanished and his shoulders started to vibrate as a deep chuckle resonated through his frame. ‘I don’t think you want to know, mate,’ he said.

  ‘But I do,’ Laurence corrected him. ‘Or more to the point I want to know if it had anything to do with Kirsten.’

  Campbell’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Now why would you think that?’ he said, hastily trying to recall exactly what he and Helena had been saying to each other when Laurence had come upon them outside one of the wardrobe trailers.

  Laurence eyed him meaningfully, then swinging Tom down from his shoulders he kissed him, cried out in pain as Tom clutched at his face making Tom squeal with laughter, then handed him over to the props guy who had promised to show him the masks.

  ‘“I’m trying, Dermott!”’ Laurence said, quoting Helena as he watched Tom disappear into a props van. ‘“But it’s not easy. You’ll just have to give me more time.”’ He turned to face Campbell. ‘So, what was it all about, Dermott?’ he said.

  Campbell’s narrowed eyes looked uncomfortably about the clearing as a faint colour started to rise from under his collar. ‘It’s personal,’ he said. ‘Can we leave it at that?’

  Laurence stared at him hard. ‘Sure,’ he said stonily, ‘just so long as I have your word it has nothing to do with Kirsten.’

  Campbell lifted a hand. ‘Scout’s honour,’ he grinned.

  Laurence shot him a look that didn’t in any way fail to reveal how unamused he was by the pun or how much store he put by Campbell’s word and as he turned to walk on he said, ‘One step out of line, Dermott, and you’re out of here. Got it?’

  ‘Got it. Would I be right in thinking this is where you’ll get the top shot from?’ he asked, relieved at an opportunity to change the subject.

  ‘No, we’ve got the crane for that. This is for the master shot. Over there, where the smaller platform is being put up is where the camera with the zoom lens will be. What’s the big joke?’ he called out to Lindon whose legs were dangling from the main camera platform as he held his sides laughing.

  Don, the focus-puller, who was on the ground beside Jake looked up at Lindon and the two of them burst out laughing again.

  ‘Seems Jake here got kicked out of bed last night,’ Don said, clapping a hand on Jake’s shoulder.

  Laurence’s smile instantly vanished. ‘Is that right?’ he said tightly. ‘Bad luck, Jake,’ and taking Campbell’s arm he started to usher him away.

  ‘She’s a fucking prick-teaser, that’s what she is,’ Jake called after them.

  Campbell turned back.

  ‘You want the dirt?’ Jake snarled. ‘Well you got it. The bitch is a prick-teaser.’

  ‘I take it we’re talking about the Kirstie Doll,’ Campbell smirked, hardly able to stop himself taking out his notebook.

  ‘Oh yeah, that’s who we’re talking about all right,’ Jake confirmed. ‘Flaunts herself around this set like some bloody whore, gives the biggest come on since Salome, then won’t deliver.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Campbell suggested, ‘you’re just not big enough in the um . . . finance department.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe you’re right there,’ Jake sneered, then catching sight of Laurence’s thunderous face he turned away to continue what he’d been doing.

  Before Laurence left the set he sent a runner over to Jake to tell him to report to the hotel production office at seven o’clock sharp.

  ‘I have two reasons for not firing you over what you did today,’ Laurence said replacing the phone to Kirsten as Jake closed the door behind him. ‘The first is we need the continuity. The second is that I’ve managed to persuade Campbell to forget what he heard.’

  Jake’s boyish face had turned crimson. ‘You want to fire me, go right ahead and do it,’ he said sulkily. ‘The woman comes . . .’

  ‘Call her by her name!’ Laurence roared. ‘She is your director and you’ll show her some damned respect.’

  ‘Don’t take that tone with me Laurence or I’ll walk out of here now,’ Jake said testily. ‘I’m not a school kid.’

  ‘Then quit behaving like one. What the hell did you think you were doing talking to Campbell that way? You know the history, Kirsten’s up to her eyes in problems right now, and she doesn’t need you adding to her load. So get off her case, Jake, and don’t go near Campbell again.’

  Jake’s anger was simmering very close to the surface. ‘OK, I’ll stay out of his way if that’s what you want, because you’re right, I was out of order. But what about you, Laurence? What the hell do you think you’re doing to her? You’ve got her so tied up in knots . . .’

  ‘What goes on between Kirsten and me is none of your damned business,’ Laurence said tightly. ‘Now get the hell out of here before I really lose my temper.’

  As the door closed behind Jake Laurence dropped his head in his hands. His whole body was tensed with rage and frustration. Jesus Christ, what was he doing? Jake was far too senior a member of the team to be spoken to in that way, but the truth was he’d wanted to get hold of Jake and tear him limb from limb for what he’d done.

  Shit, what am I doing here, he groaned inwardly. He was making such a fucking mess of everything and he just didn’t know how to get himself out of it. What the hell was he doing sleeping with Anna Sage? He didn’t even like the woman much, but he couldn’t even consider breaking it off now, not half way through the shoot. He felt a surge of bitter self-loathing as he recalled the first time they’d slept together. He’d done it because he’d been trying to kid himself that what he wanted was to play the field. Just what kind of a jerk did that make him? Not only for blinding himself to the truth, but for picking on the goddamned star of the movie to do it? Just how many problems did he want? With a sickening shame he recalled the day Anna had stood almost naked in his arms right in front of Kirsten. God only knew how Kirsten felt about that, but if it was anything like the way he felt when he’d heard Kirsten had been in bed with Jake . . . Jesus Christ, how the hell could he have convinced himself that he wanted her to sleep with another man?

  His fists tightened as the throbbing in his temples increased. He was so goddamned confused and Pippa didn’t help, the way she asked about Kirsten every goddamned time he spoke to her. And Anna was plaguing him night and day to compare her favourably with Kirsten. Did he think she was as beautiful? Was she as good in bed? Did he prefer smaller breasts? Was blonde hair more feminine? Christ, the questions she asked, they were driving him crazy. But he didn’t see he had much choice but to put up with them now, he was the fo
ol who’d allowed pride and cowardice to smother his feelings and now was definitely not the time to try dealing with them. He just had to stay away from Kirsten as much as he could, because the last thing he wanted was to hurt her any more than he already had and were he to give in to his feelings then what the hell kind of situation would he be facing with Anna?

  He looked up as someone opened the door. Jesus Christ Almighty, he seethed inwardly when he saw Anna’s anxious face, someone please tell him what he had to do to get this woman off his back before he ended up doing something he wouldn’t want to be held responsible for.

  Kirsten was on the point of leaving her room to go downstairs when the telephone rang. She’d had the diversion taken off a couple of hours ago – so close to call-time she’d had no choice but to make herself available.

  ‘Hello?’ she said propping the receiver under her chin as she juggled with the plans and script.

  ‘Kirstie, it’s Laurence. I have something to ask you.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s Anna. She’s not feeling too good.’

  ‘What’s the matter with her?’ Kirsten asked tersely.

  ‘She’s kind of nauseous, got a headache, you know the sort of thing. Anyway, she’s asking can we bring her scene forward. Shoot it before we get round . . .’

  ‘You’ve got to be joking!’ Kirsten cried. ‘Everyone’s already called for the ritual, they’ll be in make-up by now . . .’

  ‘I know, I know. All I’m saying is as we just want her for a couple of cutaways for the ritual, can we do them first?’

  ‘Yes. But we can’t do the other scene until dawn.’

  ‘But you could do the interiors. It’s only the exterior you need the dawn for and she’s not in those shots.’

  He was right, Anna wasn’t in those shots, but Kirsten, just like everyone else, was already working herself up for the ritual and she didn’t see why they all had to be thrown off course because Anna Sage had a headache. ‘I don’t suppose,’ Kirsten remarked, ‘that this headache of hers has anything to do with the fact that she’s got the next three days off and just happens to be going up to Washington and might want to get an early start, does it?’

  ‘Have you ever known her to pull a stunt like that before?’ Laurence retorted and something in his tone told her that Anna was right there with him.

  ‘No. But there’s always a first time. And why isn’t she speaking to me about this herself?’

  ‘Does it matter which one of us she speaks to?’

  ‘In this instance, yes.’

  ‘I don’t see why.’

  Kirsten didn’t bother to explain. ‘The ritual is going to take a long time to shoot, Laurence,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to still be doing it when the sun comes up and if we don’t get started as near to midnight as we can then that’s going to happen.’

  ‘We’re only talking two or three shots here, and they’re not complicated ones. They won’t hold us up long.’

  ‘OK, Laurence, you’re the producer. You know how much tonight is costing, so you’re the one who’ll have to take the consequences if we run into dawn. And believe you me, I’ll be wanting another night-shoot scheduled if we do. Have you talked to David, or the production managers?’

  ‘Of course not. I wanted to clear it with you first.’

  Everything inside Kirsten was still screaming out to say no, but right at that moment she couldn’t think of a good enough reason. ‘Where are you now?’ she snapped.

  ‘Out at the set.’

  ‘Then tell David to meet me in my trailer as soon as I get there. In the meantime you can speak to the cast and crew yourself to explain what’s going on. But I’m not having Helena messed around. She’s going to do her master shot when it’s scheduled and I’m afraid, headache or not, Anna will have to wait,’ and with that Kirsten replaced the receiver and walked out of the door.

  A few minutes later she slipped into the warmth of the chauffeur driven car waiting outside in Chartres Street. There was someone else in the car, but not until she spoke did Kirsten realize it was Helena.

  Kirsten turned to look at her.

  ‘Now don’t fly off the handle,’ Helena said quickly, taking Kirsten’s hand.

  Kirsten gave a humourless laugh. It was strange how throughout the day confusion and refusal to analyze or even speculate much had blunted her pain, yet now she was setting out, or maybe it was because she was facing Helena, there was a burning, raw ache in her that far surpassed the nervousness she was still unable to shake.

  ‘I’ve been trying to talk to you all day,’ Helena said, ‘but you haven’t been too receptive. Not that I blame you,’ she added hastily. ‘I mean it can’t look too good from where you’re sitting, can it?’

  Kirsten turned away and gazed out at the black night. ‘Then how should it look?’ she said tonelessly.

  Helena sighed. ‘Pretty pathetic, actually,’ she answered wearily. ‘Ageing, overweight actress with rented apartment, limited finance and terror of spending the rest of her life alone takes the only thing left on offer.’

  Kirsten’s face was a stony mask of scepticism as she turned back. ‘I’m not swallowing it, Helena,’ she said.

  ‘No, well I don’t guess I would either if I were you,’ Helena conceded. ‘But I’m afraid it’s true.’

  ‘So what’s he been asking you to fix over here for him?’

  Helena’s surprise was apparent. ‘What do you mean?’ she said warily.

  ‘I’m talking about what Laurence overheard today – he’s told me.’

  ‘It wasn’t about you, Kirstie, I swear it,’ but as she said it her heart was turning over, the passion in her voice rang so false.

  Kirsten could feel the betrayal burying deep into her chest. It was almost too much to bear, but it was easier to handle this than what was happening with Laurence. ‘I’m not going to ask you to choose between me and Campbell,’ she said. ‘You know what he and Dyllis are trying to do to me so from now on Helena, I am your director and you are a member of the cast. Our relationship will not go beyond that.’

  ‘Oh, Kirsten, please, don’t do this. Honestly, it’s not . . .’

  ‘The subject’s closed, Helena.’ Kirsten’s face looked pale in the flickering, vivid lights that undulated the car as they sped towards City Park. ‘Now, if there’s anything you wish to discuss about your performance tonight I’ll be glad to do so. I imagine –’

  ‘Kirsten, just listen to me . . .’

  ‘No, Helena, not unless it’s about –’

  ‘All right! For God’s sake, I’ll tell you what Dermott and I were talking about! He wants me to marry him. He’s practically begging me to and I just don’t know what to do. It’s hard to imagine us being happy together, but how happy am I gonna be spending the rest of my life on my own?’ She stopped abruptly and Kirsten almost felt her agitation deflate. ‘But knowing how he feels about you,’ Helena went on, ‘what he and Dyllis are doing to you . . . Don’t you see, it’s making it all so much more difficult. You mean a lot to me, Kirstie, a hell of a lot, but I’m lonely. I want a man and he’s all I can get.’

  The desperation and desolation in Helena’s voice swept through Kirsten with such an intensity that her head fell forward. ‘Oh God,’ she groaned, covering her eyes with her hand. ‘Helena, what’s happening to us? What the hell is going on with our lives?’

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ Helena said. ‘All I know is that as long as we’re there for each other we’ll survive. And I’ll always be there for you, Kirstie. I swear it. But just like you need Laurence I need a man too.’ At the mention of Laurence she saw Kirsten flinch. ‘Kirstie, look at me, please,’ she said. She took Kirsten’s chin and lifted her face into the light. ‘Talk to me,’ she pleaded. ‘Don’t bottle things up for God’s sake. We both know what happened the last time, you can’t go through it again.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Kirsten said, pushing Helena’s hand away. ‘Now, we’ve got a heavy night ahead of us – we’re going to be
shooting past dawn . . .’

  ‘Kirstie, listen to me,’ Helena persisted, taking Kirsten’s shoulders. ‘Don’t ask me to explain what he’s doing, or what the hell is going on in that beautiful, idiotic head of his, but take it from me the Sage is on her way out. It’s you he wants.’

  Helena’s words were like a soothing balm on the searing heat of her pain, but as the desperate hope flared in her, Kirsten said, ‘I’d like nothing more than to believe you, Helena, but . . .’ She lifted a hand to her head. ‘Jesus Christ, I don’t know what to believe anymore.’

  ‘Believe me, Kirstie. Please! I’m telling you the truth about Dermott. I’ve even tried to make Laurence face up to his feelings for you, but he won’t. OK, I tried for selfish reasons, I thought if you were happy with him then you’d be more understanding about Dermott and me. But don’t you see, it’s because what you think matters to me . . .’

  ‘We’re here,’ Kirsten interrupted, as the car bumped onto the track leading to Scout Island. ‘Let’s drop this now. We’ve got a busy night.’

  ‘Just tell me,’ Helena said holding Kirsten back as she made to get out of the car. ‘Do you understand about Dermott? I mean, is there anyway I can persuade you?’

  ‘I understand,’ Kirsten said, but what she didn’t add was that she simply didn’t know if she should either believe or trust. But, she reminded herself glumly as she weaved through the pitch darkness between the trailers, Helena wasn’t the only one who could turn on a performance when it was necessary, she, Kirsten, could do it too and tonight, without any question, called for it.

  It was as she stopped to open the door of her own trailer that she happened to glance over at Laurence’s. And there he was, silhouetted in the window, his arms around Anna as he gazed down into her upturned face. If only, Kirsten was thinking to herself as her whole insides seemed to open up to the pain, they were shooting the real death of Anna Sage and not the make-believe one of Moyna O’Malley. It might not bring Laurence back, but it would at least help to control the dreadful feelings of hatred she felt every time she looked at Anna.