Page 45 of Short Stack 3

“It” being the film crew. One of the crap spots in my usually sunny life.

I look up as the door slams open, and West, the director, appears. His thick blond hair stands on end, and his face wears its customary scowl. He looks around but doesn’t spot me, as I’m standing in the shadows.

“Where is the prick who completely destroyed the last shot of the day?”

His harried assistant, Jamie, appears behind him. “Oh, West, it’s notthatbad.” He sighs. He’s wrapped in a huge puffer coat, a bundle of scarves, and a red pom-pom hat. He wraps a pashmina around his thin shoulders. “Why is it so fucking cold here?”

“Notbad?” West splutters. “We were filming the hero’s last tender words as he lay dying when a fucking yeti appeared. How is that not bad?”

“It’s a fantasy film. Just say he’s a magic dog.”

West glares at Jamie, who, as usual, doesn’t seem at all perturbed by his dramatic nature. “A magicdog?” he repeats.

“Well, yes. Or a werewolf. That could work.” Jamie looks around and shudders. “All the fucking trees around here couldbe harbouring anything. Fucking nature,” he says with a weary resignation that makes me smile.

I step away from the car and grab my bag. “Sorry, that was me,” I call.

West squints. He hasn’t got his glasses on, as he loses a pair almost as soon as he gets them. “You absolute knobhead,” he spits. “You’ve just ruined a day’s work. I’ve got a good mind to report you to your boss.”

“My boss?”

I wonder if he’s talking about Oz. Many visitors get the same impression, which is hardly surprising, considering his bossy temperament. I push the thought of his bossiness away, as it never fails to make me hard. Not appropriate when dealing with the film crew.

Jamie nudges his boss. “Yeah, that will be super,” he mutters, retrieving a pair of glasses from his pocket and polishing them on his sleeve. He hands them to West and shakes his head. “You can report Lord Ashworth to Lord Ashworth. I’m sure it’ll make more fucking sense than the current script we’re shooting.”

“I do wish you wouldn’t be so dismissive,” West says, grabbing the glasses and sliding them on. The tortoiseshell frames suit his angular face and wild hair.

I offer him a conciliatory glance. “Anyway, I am sorry. I thought you’d be finished by now.” Ihoped, more like it, but I’m too polite to say that.

West grimaces. “Yes, well, we had to finish up another shot that wasalsoruined.”

“Two old ladies appeared in cagoules asking where the gift shop was,” Jamie explains.

“I thought we had rented the entire estate,” West snaps.

“You rented the house,” I explain. “The rest of the grounds are open because we have livestock and tasks to perform. I’m surprised Niall didn’t tell you that.”

“He did.” Jamie shudders. “In veryfirmand wonderful detail.”

“Well, there you go, then.” I smile at them. “Now, can I help you with anything else?”

West shrugs. “Not unless you have a time machine in which I can ascend and sail back to a time before I ever considered the job of a film director.”

He turns away and wanders back into the house, and I bite my lip, looking at Jamie.

He rolls his eyes. “A film set is the only place in the universe that would tolerate his dramatic temperament. Don’t worry about it. The shot’s in the can, anyway. In a few minutes, he’ll be waxing lyrical about the skyline and the trees again.”

I wasn’t particularly worried, but I plaster a relieved look on my face. Then I gaze around. “Have you seen a small but mighty Irishman around here?”

He chuckles. “I think Oz is in the gift shop.” He winks. “Just look for Rob, our producer. He’ll be hanging over him with his tongue out.” I stiffen, and he must see something in my face because he holds his hands up immediately. “I wasn’t implying anything, Lord Ashworth.”

“Silas,” I correct automatically.

He wrinkles his nose. “Silas, I wasn’t implying anything was going on. Rob might fancy Oz, but I’m sure Oz only has eyes for you.”

Oz’s pretty eyes are the colour of a Bombay Sapphire bottle, and Rob is probably staring into them with that fucking lovestruck expression he assumed the first day he met my boyfriend. It’s profoundly irritating.

Jamie is still talking, but I’m possessed with such a strong desire to find Oz that I’m uncharacteristically rude. “I’m so sorry,” I interrupt. “But I’d better get round there.” I hesitate,searching for an excuse for the rush. “I need to check if the… if the key ring delivery has come.”

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