Page 83 of Good Enough

But, yeah, baby. I think these missing items and sick crew are way too convenient. Just can’t have you attacking Big Bird.

“Look,” he continued. “You can still film. You know how to use the camera, right?” She nodded. “Then let’s grab your list of contingencies and see what we can film off of that until your crew can get back on set.”

Kubrick threw her arms around Waters’ neck and hugged him tight. “So fucking perfect,” she whispered in his ear. “I was so busy throwing a shit fit I didn’t think of that. Thank you.”

He smiled as he hugged her tightly. Damn, he loved this woman. Lilac scent, Dodgers gear, swear words, passionate highs and lows, and all. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve always got you.”

29

MARCH 27TH

Kai

The crew was back on set. Luckily, all returned as healthy as they had been before they were struck down by the food poisoning. Kai had managed to keep filming for three days until they were back to full strength, but now they had little room for any more major disasters. She somehow couldn’t help but feel that more would come.

A third of the way through filming. Can we hold it together another twenty-eight days?

Waters was doing practice run-throughs of the upcoming fight sequence to be filmed. She never got enough of watching him work. His intensity and focus were the two qualities she loved most about him. It didn’t matter if he was working out, rehearsing a scene with the actors, planning a fight sequence, or simply having a conversation. Whatever he did had all of his attention without question.

And when he’s focused on me, then his intensity is at its absolute peak. It’s enough to make a woman want more.

Kai looked away from the group, going through a slow-motion pass of the scene, and shook her head in disgust with herself. It was imaginings like that, of wanting more with Waters, that would be the early ruin of what they currently had. He had been open with her that this was all he could give. A few weeks of pleasure between takes, so to speak. When the filming was done, so were they. He’d go back to his “projects” with Tribe, and she’d carry on with editing the film, then move on to the very first film, all hers from top to bottom. The time they spent together would be nothing but fond memories.

Would he look back on them fondly? Or would she be just another woman in the promenade of his past?

Her personal lack of experience with men in terms of romance, combined with her refusal to lie to herself, caused her to believe it would be the latter. She also knew that no matter what she told him about understanding their affair was on a time limit, that she was okay with that, she knew she was anything but okay with it. She had well and truly lost her heart to the former SEAL in a very short span of time. And while she didn’t regret her choice to let him into her life beyond the film contract, she knew that her heart would be broken when it came time to say goodbye. When that time came, somehow, she would have to be convincing that she was fine with everything ending.

And I won’t be okay.

Turning her attention back to the fight rehearsal, she noticed they were now running through the sequence at half speed. Once that run was complete, they would run it at full speed. Waters would debrief them on anything he saw, make corrections, and possibly repeat the triplicate rehearsal sequence if a significant enough move needed to be made, and only when he was convinced they had it solid would he give the go-ahead to begin the sequence in film mode.

A sigh of frustration came from off to her right. Her eyes closed for a moment as she took a deep breath, held it for a three count, and then slowly exhaled. “What’s wrong, Craig?”

“This is taking too long. You should be filming. I thought all of this was worked out in your weeks of training?” She could hear his sneer in the final word.

“The scene was choreographed in those weeks, yes. And they have practiced it, again and again, to make it the strongest it can be. But that doesn’t mean they don’t need to continue to practice.”

“Overkill. Wastes time,” he grunted.

She turned in her chair to look over her shoulder. “This is a standard fight choreography practice, Craig. Anytime you’re going to run a fight sequence, you run it three times. First time is in slow motion. Second time is at half speed. Third time is at full speed. We’re not doing anything any other film wouldn’t be doing. And on top of that, it’s not a waste of time or money if it prevents someone from getting hurt. That would cost us more time and money than we have budgeted. You, of all people, should be able to approve of those considerations.”

“I’ve been making movies for almost twenty years, Serrano. I think I know what standard operating procedures are. I hardly need a lesson from you, a director who has made eleven small-budget films.”

“Don’t build yourself up, assfuck. You don’t make movies; you finance them. But let’s say you do have some sort of knowledge regarding actual filmmaking. If you’re so aware, why are you busting my chops over this? Safety first and always. You know that. Or are you so desperate for me to fail that you’re hoping to goad me into making a mistake?”

Big Bird advanced two steps toward her, so his height towered over her. Arms folded across his chest, his smile was near reptilian. “There’s no need to hope for a mistake. It’s inevitable.”

His words were smug. She knew he was attempting to intimidate her, but while she disliked the man intensely, he did not frighten her. He never had. Nothing frightened her. She stared him straight in the eye without blinking, determination burning in her narrowed eyes and her jaw set firmly.

Then she turned her back on him.

It was probably a mistake to do that, but she knew it would annoy him more if she ignored his attempts to provoke her. “Go away, Stapleton,” she droned. “I have too much work to do to spend time arguing with you regarding things that are pointless to discuss.”

She waited him out. Despite the sounds of grunts and dialogue from the fight sequence in front of her, as well as the crew’s general hum of business surrounding them, she could hear his ragged breathing. A sure sign that he was pissed.

Good. I’m glad he’s pissed.

It was over a minute before he spoke again. “We’re not finished, Serrano.”

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