Page 120 of A Night with Damien Spur

Damien flicked a glance at the pretty young woman who placed two cups of fresh coffee and some shortbread biscuits on the desk.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen you before. You must be new. What’s your name?’

He gave her that look. The one that could tease a habit off a nun.

She flushed and averted her eyes.

‘Claire,’ she replied. ‘I started last week.’

‘Well, Claire,’ he said. ‘Angus here usually keeps a stash of my favourite biscuits… He’s obviously not informed you.’

‘No problem, Damien,’ his agent said. ‘Claire, why don’t you pop round the corner and get some custard creams for Mr Spur?’

‘Thank you, Angus. Must say it’s not like you to humour me.’

‘Look, I know you’re a creature of habit and I just want this to be a happy and productive meeting.’

***

Damien answered the door. On the front step stood Marc Castle, tall and elegant beside a diminutive young woman with a Spanish guitar casually slung across her shoulder.

Marc smiled at Damien. ‘Good to see you again. This is Ariana, our leading actress.’

Damien felt that familiar stirring.

Just his type. Glamorous without trying. A real beauty.

‘Hi Damien, what a pleasure to meet you.’ She shook his hand. ‘Well, gentlemen,’ she said brushing past him, ‘let’s not waste time. Where are we going to work?’

‘Up the stairs, first on your left; the living room.’

‘Got it.’ And off she flew.

Wow! She’s some hot chilli pepper, said the Voice.A Brazilian chick who kicks ass.

***

Ariana sat on an antique mahogany piano stool with the guitar on her lap.

‘I am going to play you the theme tune I’ve composed.’

Damien liked her style. ‘Fire ahead.’

Marc laughed. ‘Theme tune, Ariana? Hold on. I thought you just wanted to play your song in the last scene.’

‘Yes. Sandra could strum it on the beach to Samuel before she vanishes but it should also play out the end of the movie.

A lasting memory of his great love… and we can use variations of the melody through the whole movie.’

She lifted her arms up above her head making a large arc and then brought them to rest. She gave a deep sigh.

‘It’s a sad composition. Just the guitar. No orchestration. Listen.’

As she strummed the minor chords, lifting the sound to a poignant crescendo, Damien’s breath rose with the wave of melodic intensity. His thoughts swept away into the past. He could see his father in his mind’s eye. At first playing with him on the carpet and then the funeral, sad notes.

Next, Laura appeared with her furrowed brow and sad brown eyes gazing at him as if to say “What has become of us?”. His loved ones back from the dead like magic. Damien blinked back his tears.

Don’t be ashamed, he heard his father say.It’s good to cry. If you can’t cry, you can’t feel.

---