Page 20 of Lights, Camera, Love

I’m just about to get up to save her when a body drops onto the spot next to me, bumping my shoulder. Buzz settles in and shoots me a smirk, his tightly coiled hair sticking up at all angles. ‘Saw you were a lonely heart over here and thought I’d come say hi,’ he says.

‘Hi,’ I reply. He’s my boss at the moment, so I smile and tip the neck of my beer bottle against his.

His smile expands. ‘Are you happy?’ he asks. ‘I mean, with how it’s all coming along and the scenes we’ve putdown here?’ The slight slur in his voice makes me realise that the beer he’s holding isn’t his first of the night.

‘Definitely,’ I say quickly. Then, wanting to be agreeable, I scramble for something else to add. ‘I’ve been thinking about the setting, and I think the farm and the vast landscape here will be a really nice metaphor for the distance between Jamie and his daughter. Emotionally, that is.’

What are you on about, Evie? You know this movie has about as much depth as a puddle.But I can’t help nattering; the smell of alcohol seeping from Buzz is becoming impossible to ignore.How much has he had?

His brows fly up. ‘Wow. Could you be any more adorable?’ He leans closer. ‘You know, I’ve always had a thing for women with brains.’

As opposed to women with empty skulls?

Buzz traps me in his stare, his voice taking on a rough edge. ‘But honestly, honey, when audiences catch sight of you in this picture, they won’t be thinking too hard about the landscape.’

Before I can think of anything to say back, he adds, ‘Austin’s really nailed his character as well. That guy sure can deliver a line.’

He’s not wrong—Austin rarely rehearses and often appears half-asleep, but when it’s time for the camera to roll, he knocks it out of the park.

I wait for Buzz to say something aboutmyacting performance, but he falls silent and takes a long swig of his beer.

‘And what about my delivery?’ I venture bravely. If I’m doing something wrong or not keeping up with Austin, I need to know so I can fix it.

Buzz shifts his legs around to face me, the flames of the fire gyrating in his black eyes, morphing them into two shiny beetles. ‘Why don’t you come back to my cabin after this, and we can talk about it?’ he suggests under his breath. ‘We can chat about Constance and what you need to work on before we start the interior scenes.’

My brow tenses. ‘Your cabin?’

‘Cabin eleven,’ he says in a low voice. His gaze lingers on mine before he rises and stumbles over to a couple of the camera guys, a giant patch of dirt staining the backside of his corduroy trousers.

As I watch Buzz go, my skin breaks out in goosebumps, and not the good kind. There’s no way in hell I’d go back to his cabin with him alone. It’s so inappropriate that he even asked.

The fire pops and sizzles as I glance back at Austin and Kye. Austin’s hunched forward, scratching something on his boot, while Kye is staring right at Buzz, his jaw so tight it could crush diamonds.

CHAPTER 7

Evie

After a drink with Kiara and a promise to catch up with her back in the city, I begin the short stroll to my cabin, keeping my gaze low so it doesn’t make an involuntary collision with Buzz’s as I pass by him.

My verandah’s metal roof is housing a wasp nest born in hell, so I duck beneath the whirr of insects and escape inside the musty cabin. After changing into sweatpants and a comfy jumper, I pair my phone with my portable speaker and put on a Lucky Daye album to smooth out the nerves that Buzz has rattled.

I’m at the sink, grooving into some hip-pops while washing my expanding family of used coffee mugs, when a needle pierces the back of my neck.

‘Ow.’ My hand slams against my skin, and my palm returns a writhing, winged insect. Horrified, I drop the wasp to the wooden floor.

The back of my neck begins to burn, and I grab myphone, muttering ‘ow, ow, ow’ while googling what to do after being stung by a wasp. Apparently, I should apply a cold pack and monitor for allergic reactions. There’s no ice in the freezer, so I stand over the sink and splash cold water on the back of my neck. The spot already stings like a bitch, but thankfully, I’m not experiencing any other symptoms.

Once I scoop up the delinquent wasp with a dustpan and deposit it outside, I inspect the cabin for places where it could have gotten in but find no obvious passageways to the outside world. Maybe it snuck in with me when I got back from the bonfire.

I’m heading to the sink for a glass of water when a second wasp flutters past my nose. Lurching away from it, I scamper out of the kitchen, almost colliding with a third flying assassin. Time to ring Kiara.

‘There’s a bit of a wasp situation in my cabin,’ I tell her, while keeping my back pressed to the wall. ‘I don’t know where they’re coming in, but one just stung me. I’ve found three so far—oh wait, there’s a fourth.’

‘What?’ she gasps. ‘I’ll come right over; I’ll bring an ice pack.’

Five minutes later, Kiara turns up in flannelette pyjamas and Ugg boots with James, the sound recordist, who’s clutching an ice pack and a spatula. They can’t figure out where the little buggers are getting in either.

While James inspects the bite on my neck, Kiara steps out onto the verandah to make some calls. She’s back within three minutes, dodging the swooping wasps.

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