by Lark O'Neal
“I would never know the difference.”
For a minute she looks at me in surprise, then says, “Get dressed. I’ve got to get your hair and make-up done.”
By the time she finishes my makeup, I feel like a cartoon version of myself. I’m wearing about six layers of foundation, blush and shadows, eyeliner, mascara, lipstick…things I’ve never worn in my life. My hair has been fluffed and curled and sprayed, fluffed some more with a blow-dryer, then re-braided into a fancy version of what I do myself every day.
“Head up the hill, sweetheart,” Mika says. “You’ll see them.”
Everyone is gathered in front of the cathedral doors. Big lights have been set up both inside and outside the building, and, although Mika said it was a small crew, it seems like a lot of people to me. I spy the director and Damon, the guy I first met in the airport. A handful of actors in casual dress, including Darcy, are off to one side.
Colin, the actor I met at the airport, approaches, extending his hand. “Hello, Jess. I’m Colin. We met at the airport.”
“Hi.” I accept his handshake, which is kind of clammy but strong. He really is very good looking. Up close, I can see he has makeup on, too. “I remember.”
“Glad you realized we were the real thing.” There’s something a little brittle around his eyes. “Turns out they’ve changed the storyline to include your boyfriend.” He gestures with a thumb over his shoulder, and I see Kaleb, dressed in cargo shorts and a tank top, with a backpack on his shoulders.
He has more tattoos than I first realized. On the backs of his calves, around his upper arm. I don’t remember noticing them all the night of the earthquake, though there was one particular tattoo that caught my attention. The memory of the one on his hip, all stylized curves, flashes across my imagination, but I push it away.
“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re kind of…cousins, I guess.”
Colin eyes me. “Whatever. They changed the script to make the two of you a romantic couple, and I’m a friend.”
I have no idea what to say. He’s clearly not happy about it, but it wasn’t anything I had control over. Uncomfortable, I move around him and go to stand by Kaleb. If he’s wearing make-up, I can’t tell. “Aren’t you freezing in that?”
“Nah. I’m tough.” He eyes my face, then gives a little shake of his head. “You look exactly like a girl on the trail, right down to the lipstick.”
I smack my lips together. “Right? I bet I weigh ten pounds more from all the crap on my face. Did you get your script?”
“I did, but I haven’t read much yet. We’ll have to go over it tonight.”
“Yeah.”
“Listen up, people,” the director says, stepping into the middle of the group. “We lost a day thanks to the earthquake, and we’ve already been juggling a lot of elements, so let’s focus and get this done today, all right?”
Some clapping.
“We’re shooting the cathedral scenes in the morning, the water shots this afternoon, so it’s a lot. We’ve got three days at Abel Tasman and the house is booked, so we’ve got to get out of here tomorrow at 5 am, is that clear? No late parties.”
Murmuring and assent ripple through the crowd.
“For all of you who haven’t met them, say hello to Kaleb and Jess, our new additions. Jess is taking Morgan’s place, and I liked our Maori friend so much that I wrote him into the script.” He gestures toward us, and I wave a little. Kaleb lifts his chin.
“Let’s get started.”
Nerves immediately tighten my throat, but there are actually no lines to read or trip over today. There are six scenes, three starring Kaleb, Colin and I, and three featuring a middle aged couple going through essentially the same motions. In the first scene we walk up to the cathedral, admiring the windows and the plaque beside the door, then going inside. Ian tells us to talk. There’s no sound, but he needs us to look like we’re chatting.
Colin starts saying “Peas and carrots and turnips,” as he points to the windows, then laughs.
Kaleb laughs, too, and nods and says, “Once upon a time in a faraway land, a baby was born to a happy queen.”
I pick it up. “All the people in the kingdom were invited, but somehow a single invitation was overlooked.”
Colin jumps in, “Peas and carrots, peas and carrots.”
I laugh, and it’s genuine, and then Ian yells, “Cut! That was great, you guys. Do it again.”
Each scene is like that, take after take in each spot, then moving to the next. We go inside and wander up the aisle for an internal shot.
A couple of times I stumble over Colin in an awkward way, forcing an annoyed, “Cut!” from Ian. “Try to be aware of the way the camera is facing, Jess,” he says.
But I am aware. It just feels like Colin shifts around and then I trip on him. I have to be more aware. Flushing, I shake my shoulders to try to refocus, and we go outside again. A long set of steps leads to the cathedral, showcasing the lacy-looking bell-tower. It’s modern and strange, but oddly beautiful. We’re supposed to climb the steps, cameras in front of us, then cameras behind. The middle-aged couple is given a different sort of shot, leaning together to admire the city below, but we have to skip up the steps a dozen times, over and over. Colin is getting sweaty, despite the cold weather, and a make-up person has to powder him down. It’s easy for me, even with the backpack, because the air is so rich in comparison to back home. Kaleb doesn’t seem to be feeling the effort, either.
Again I get into a tangle with Colin, and this time I almost fall. I give him a look, but he scowls at me.
“Could you please try to be a little bit graceful?”
Kaleb takes my hand, tugging me closer to his side than to Colin’s. “Let’s outrun him,” he says in my ear, and the director says, “That’s great, Kaleb.”
We dance up the steps. “Go fast,” Kaleb says, and we start rushing up the steps as if we really are racing each other, and it finally feels like fun again, instead of something really aggravating and hard. We’re laughing as we make it to the top, turning around to see Colin, despite his long legs, far behind us. Kaleb lifts my hand over our heads, and we whoop. “Winners!”
Colin looks annoyed, but he covers it with a smile as he catches up and high fives each of us. “Good job.”
“All right, that’s a wrap,” Ian calls out. “We’re headed down to the bay. Get changed, grab something to eat, and be in the vans in twenty minutes.”
I raise my eyebrows at Kaleb. “I wonder if I need makeup for swimming?”
“You won’t be swimming in that water,” Colin says. “It’s freaking cold.”
“Why are we going there, then?”
“Just beach shots, I think.”
* * *
But Colin is wrong. Mika has a wet suit for me. “Can you swim?”
“I’m a fish,” I say without arrogance. “But I’ve never worn a wet suit.”
“You won’t be able to manage that water for long, so try to make every minute count.”
Kaleb and Colin are in the van already when I come out. Darcy is wearing a wetsuit, too, peeled down to her waist, a bikini top barely containing her chest.
Darcy’s brown skin glistens in the sunshine as she peels an orange, and she winks at me. “Bet I’ll make it into these shots,” she says, leaning against me. “What do you think?”
I laugh and accept the orange segments she offers. “I say…uh…yes.”
It’s only a short drive to the beach, and we all pile out again. There are three camera guys, and Ian is already there. They’re blocking out the shots, pointing at a row of Windsurfers with brightly colored sails.
The middle-aged actress steps up beside me. “Gorgeous day, isn’t it?”
“Amazing.” The sky is endless and bright blue over us, the water sparkling and dancing. A sharp wind ripples the sails, and they make a cracking sound. “Are you from here?”
“Auckland,” she says. “But I come here when I can. God’s country.” She holds
out her hand. “I’m Rhonda.”
“Jess.”
“This your first commercial?”
“First anything like this at all.”
She blinks. “You’re not a model?”
“Nope.”
“I see.” She eyes me a little coldly. “How’d you end up here, then?”
I gesture toward the camera guy. “I met Colin and Damon at the Auckland airport on the way down to Nelson to see my dad. He has a winery.”
“That sounds like a story for the gossip rags. Did you make it up?”
I laugh and use my finger to cross my heart. “No, I swear it’s true.”
She smiles, shaking her head. “Lucky break. For us, that is. This whole operation is running on a thin margin. Finding someone to replace Morgan was a huge problem.”
“So I hear.” I shrug.
“Jess!” Ian calls. “Let’s get this shot underway.”
I head toward him, jogging easily in the packed sand, and the cameras are running, so I smile at Damon.
“Great! Keep it up!” He kneels and films, and keeps it going even when I stop.
Kaleb and Colin are already clambering onto the Windsurfers. Both of them clearly know what they’re doing. Hands on my hips, I shake my head. “I don’t know how to do that.”
“It’s okay,” Ian answers. “We’ll do the action shots with the guys, and we’ll film you falling into the water. Can you swim?”
“Yes.” A guy hands me a lifejacket and fits me into it, pulling it tight. “I don’t really need this, actually.”
“Well, you have to wear it anyway.”
Kaleb says, “Hey, if I wear the lifejacket, can I lose the wetsuit?”
“You know what you’re doing?”
“Yes.” Again the pinched sound of the word makes me smile.
“Me, too,” Colin says, and they both leap to the sand and shed their wetsuits.
Colin is lanky, smooth skinned, no hair at all on his body, but he looks great once the lifejacket covers his ribs. His hair is thick and shaggy, and his jaw has a shadow that gives him an air of ruggedness. When he adds a pair of polarized sunglasses, he looks exactly like an Outside magazine cover. Looking at me, he spreads his hands: How do I look? I give him a thumbs-up.
Kaleb, too, has shed his wet suit. Under it, he’s wearing only a pair of board shorts, baggy and hanging low on his lean hips. The ink on his back and legs, so specific and unlike the tattoos I see at home, gives him an air of the exotic, and his hair falls around his tiger-face in black curls. He’s very hot, frankly, and for one second I forget about everything and drink him in. Even if Colin were straight, he’d be no match for Kaleb.
It gives me one second of guilt, but I’m only looking at him. If Tyler were here, he’d have to be blind not to look at Darcy, who saunters up to me sucking on a lollipop.
“You like my brother?” she says.
My cheeks go hot over getting caught staring, but I don’t stop watching him get ready to get on the Windsurfer. “I kind of have this guy back home,” I say, then give her a half-grin. “But Kaleb does not hurt my eyes.”
“He’s pretty stuck up, you know.”
“Hmm. I’m not getting that.”
“You guys are good on camera, for sure.”
I look at her. “Really?”
“Yeah. Very good. I heard them talking about it, how natural you are together. They loved it when you ran up the stairs.”
“Thanks.”
The conversation eases some of my nerves, and the next takes go smoothly. Darcy and I are walking on the beach and admiring the guys out windsurfing. It’s not a big stretch, either. They’re both skilled and muscular and young and beautiful, riding the waves like masters. Kaleb is the more muscular, his back and shoulders moving with lean, cut muscles as he manipulates the sail. It’s exhilarating to watch, and I really do want to try it. “Is it hard to learn?”
“Not really,” one of the camera guys says. “All I need you to do is stay upright long enough for me to get a shot of you and the sails.”
“I’ll try.”
There are two guys from the windsurfing company who help me get settled on the board and pull up the sail, and I’ve been watching Kaleb and Colin, so I kind of get it. The first couple of times I’m in the water so fast that I can’t even get away from the shore, but on the third try something clicks as I shift and feel the wind catch the sail. I whoop, feeling the board solid beneath my feet, the wind blowing me out into the water.
“Great, Jess!” Ian says. “We got the shot.”
Kaleb is a few feet away. “Lean into the wind and steer this way.”
I try to follow directions, but the craft heads the opposite way. Laughing, I counter, shifting my weight and the sail, and this time I get it right—the board moves toward Kaleb.
“Good job!”
I’m not sure what happens, but all at once the entire thing tilts and I’m in the water, over my head. It’s so cold that for a second it steals my breath, but I surface and grab a lungful of air, and the panic subsides.
One of the employees from the windsurfing company wades out and steadies my board. “Grab on!” he yells.
“I’ll swim to shore.”
The water is cold, even through the wetsuit, but I’m filled with a bright, buoyant light that makes me flip and spin, going under and coming back up, like an otter.
Then Kaleb is beside me on his Windsurfer. “I’ll race you back.”
“You’ll freeze!”
He dives in and starts to swim.
“Not fair!” I cry, and go after him. In a second I’ve caught up to him and tag his shoulder to let him know I’m there. He’s a powerful swimmer, but so am I, and I have the advantage of the wetsuit. I reach shore well before him, so I flip over and head back, swimming around him, teasing and taunting.
He catches me by the waist and tosses me out of the water with a lot more power than I would have expected. Laughing, I land with a splash and come up wiping water out of my eyes. He’s wading out, water to his knees. Sun glitters in his curls, his big white smile is cracking his face open, and that body is wet and gorgeous. “Winner!” he says, holding his arms over his head.
“Bull!” I say, wading out. “I was here first.”
Ian is clapping. “Great, you two. That was freaking great. Thank you.”
Kaleb glances over his shoulder, then gives me a fist bump. I meet it with a grin. “Good job,” he says.
“You, too.”
* * *
By the time the van drops Darcy, Kaleb and I back at the winery, it’s long past dark and the lights of the house beckon with warmth. Darcy opens the door, and the scent of onions and meat pours into the night, making my stomach growl. We stumble in, exhausted and starving, and I don’t know about the other two, but I’m ready for bed. Like this second.
Katy bustles out of the kitchen, drying her hands. “There you are! How was it?”
Darcy flings herself onto the couch, her legs stretched out in front of her. “Great.”
I fall down beside her, and she slides her head onto my shoulder. “Exhausting,” I say. “We filmed all day.”
“I’m knackered.” Kaleb sinks down on my other side, head back, eyes closed.
Katy stands in front of us, arms crossed. “Do you want to eat before you sleep? I have stew and bread. It’ll help you get through tomorrow.”
Darcy waves a hand. “I’m shattered.”
With an effort, I sit up, and Kaleb pushes me from behind. “I’ll eat.”
“Me, too,” he says.
We slump down at the table in the kitchen, which she’s set with bowls and bread on a board waiting to be cut, and cups waiting for tea. I’ve never had so much tea in one day in my life. “Can I have a soda or something?”
“Of course, lamb. Ginger beer?”
I nod. “Can I help you?”
She touches my shoulder. “No, you just sit and eat.”
“Is my dad around?”
> “He’s still helping the neighbors with clean-up from the earthquake. We were lucky not to have more of a mess. Some of the other vintners have lost a fair amount of wine.”
Kaleb asks her about someone, and she starts logging the losses—this one a few cases, that one the glass bottles waiting to be filled. Other stuff. I stop listening after a while, focused only on the rich stew with its thick gravy and fat rounds of carrot. It might be one of the five best things I’ve ever eaten.
Suddenly I think of Tyler. “Is the Internet back on?”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. It’s not. I guess they lost a tower or something somewhere. Your dad said we don’t have the infrastructure here yet that the States does.”
I think of Tyler, alone in his house, painting. Lonely, worrying about me, wondering why I haven’t called, and it makes my lungs ache. I have to figure out how to get in touch with him or he’s going to be totally freaked out. Why didn’t I give him the winery number?
The answer is, of course, that it never occurred to me.
“Are you going to look at the scripts?” Kaleb asks.
“I’ll read them in the morning in the van. You?”
“Not tonight.” He pushes back from the table and carries his bowl to the sink. “Good job out there,” he says.
“You, too.”
I’m not far behind him, dragging myself upstairs and into my bed without even bothering to brush my teeth.
But the minute my head hits the pillow, my brain breaks into a big dance, whirling with the day—snippets of the water, the sky, the film crew, the repeated takes of some of the scenes. It seems like we did pretty well, that Ian was happy with us. I have no real way of knowing what’s good or bad, but it felt good. Natural. Authentic. If the job is to sell New Zealand, I am so in love with the place that it should be easy.
Into the darkness creeps Tyler. I’ve done well not thinking about him today, but now that I’m still, I wonder what he imagines might have happened to me, dropping out of sight like this. I wonder what he’s doing right now, if he’s found another job, what the judge said. Will he have to go back to prison for breaking his parole?