Page 36 of Until the Sea Runs Dry

“This isn’t going to work. Why don’t I take him for a walk until you are done?”

“Here’s his lead,” Logan replied as Helena gestured for him to strip. Without pause or any kind of self consciousness, Logan unbuttoned his shirt.

The sun chose that exact moment to move out from behind a cloud, showering him in a halo of light that only seemed to highlight his athletic frame.

Used to the sight of half-naked Adonises around her, Helena was all business. When Logan started on the zipper of his pants, Jane realized that she was gawking at him. Snapping her mouth shut, she focused on the lead that she took from him and spun around, hoping that no-one had noticed her reaction.

“Jane?”

She had taken several steps away before she remembered it was her name now.

“Yes?”

“The photographer will be by at noon. Be back with Loki by then.”

He removed his watch and offered it to her. “Take my watch.”

Jane took it, noting how heavy it was. Fixing it onto her wrist, she read the label engraved on the watch. “Bvlgari… this must have cost a fortune?”

“You know watches?” Logan asked, his surprise not any less than Jane’s.

“I guess so. I recognized the brand as one of the luxury ones. I wonder how I knew that?”

Helena snorted loudly. “People who know money, know Bvlgari. Me? I just use my phone. Of course, if someone were to gift me one of those watches, I wouldn’t say no.”

Logan’s eyes turned incredulous. “What would you want with one? You’d never wear it.”

“Of course I wouldn’t!” Helena agreed. “Spending that kind of money on a watch is obscene. I’d sell the damn thing and put down a deposit for a house. Or at least, a new car.”

“It’s not like I paid for the watch…” Logan trailed off, only to regret his words as Helena arched a perfectly painted black brow at him.

“Why do the richest people get given the most things? Isn’t it strange how our society works?” Helena directed the question at Jane.

Feeling the need to leave before the conversation turned to something she didn’t remember — and opening up that can of worms which she had promised to keep secret — she left.

She moved down the twisting corridor, careful to memorize her way back. Loki strained at his leash, impatient to get away, but Jane knew not to take him off it, not if she wanted to keep the dog in her sights.

Production staff raced by, speaking a mile a minute into phones or radios. Everywhere she went, people moved past, busy with their frantic lives. A wave of wistfulness came over her as she wished she could have a purpose — one bigger than only keeping Loki entertained.

They spent the next few hours ambling through the studio, taking in the sights and sounds wherever Jane was allowed to go. No one ever stopped or bothered them, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for a woman to be walking her dog in a studio.

Suspended on the walls were posters of the movie Logan was currently in pre-production with. It struck Jane as amazing: the movie hadn’t even started filming, yet there were posters advertising it.

She passed by a large studio where a set was being constructed. Trees for a snow-covered forest were being built. Despite that it was fake, Jane still shivered. It seemed much colder here, as if the snow was real.

Loki tugged against her, desperate to play in the fake snow. Knowing that he would eventually get the better of her if they stayed here, she took him outside, following the signs that pointed to “The Village.”

Expecting an actual village, Jane was surprised when she came upon a quaint cobblestone courtyard formed of popular retail stores. There was a Starbucks, Borders, Walgreens, Whole Foods, as well as a juice bar specializing in cold-pressed beverages, and a make-your-own salad bar.

She took in the bright pictures in the window displays, analyzing each and every item on offer, hoping for it to spark a memory. Other than learning that she could get a great-looking Caesar salad with a drink for less than ten bucks, however, her brain failed to comply.

Loki ambled ahead of her, stopping when he reached the entrance to the book store. He cocked his head, asking for permission to go inside.

“Go on then,” Jane replied, half expecting him to go the other way. He surprised her by walking into the store, as if he had understood her.

She followed him quickly, worried about the possibility of toilet mishaps — she hadn’t thought to bring any baggies with her — when she spotted a young sales assistant nearby.

Her low-slung jeans paired with a tiny cropped top revealed an enviably toned stomach. Blonde and perky, Jane would have placed her as having been the high school prom queen. Head cheerleader, too.

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