Page 53 of Hollywood Games
‘Should I be worried about him?’
Charlie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. No one you know is going to have sex with him, and Kinloch is too small for him to fence anything from the castle without being noticed. He’s a bad’un though, you’re right about that. He’s a nasty fucker.’ Charlie pulled a box from his pocket. ‘I got these from the pharmacy. Should slow him down for a few hours,’ he said, passing it to Rory. ‘It’s his kibble time, so now’s our chance.’
The two men walked to the kitchen where Brad’s chef was busy preparing meals for Brad, Kirsten and Vlad. Charlie went to distract her, whilst Rory crushed laxative pills between two spoons and mixed them into Vlad’s chickpea slop. He smiled grimly to himself. This should get him off everyone’s back for at least a day.
Charlie’s plan unfortunately failed to have any effect on Vlad, as the next day he was still gliding around the castle with Kirsten, dispensing advice and his healing touch, solicited or not. Despite Charlie upping the laxative dose over the next few days, Vlad remained impervious. Clive told Rory he had been in the pub again, this time trying to buy drugs from the bemused locals. Rory wanted to kick him off set, but Zoe talked him down, not wanting to ruffle any more feathers with filming nearly finished.
The shoot couldn’t end quick enough for Rory. Each day that passed seemed to last a week. Any moment Zoe was on set with Brad, his hackles were raised, and he’d also caught Vlad looking at her strangely. If that wasn’t bad enough, Kirsten had taken to wearing her character’s curly red wig all the time, and circling him like a mosquito, hell bent on sucking his blood. The first couple of times, she’d managed to trick him into thinking she was Zoe again for a nanosecond, and now he was so paranoid, Zoe had taken to approaching him slowly, like he was an unpredictable bull.
Three daysbefore the shooting wrapped, however, Rory couldn’t act as Zoe’s unwanted minder. She was filming at the cabin all day and he was due at the castle for theTatlershoot that afternoon. He lay in bed, Zoe wrapped around him, listening to her breathing as she slept, Basil snuffling about in his cage and the dawn chorus outside, knowing the rest of the world was at least four miles away. The past few days the production carpenters and scene dressers had been at the cabin preparing for filming, disturbing the only peace and privacy he felt he had left.
‘Alright, alright, I’m getting up,’ Zoe mumbled against his chest.
‘Huh? You awake?’
She lifted her head and gave him her grumpiest morning look. ‘Do you really think I could sleep with you sighing away like a pair of bellows performing at an open mic night?’
He grinned. ‘I wasn’t sighing, I was breathing.’
‘Yeah, and I’m the bloody Queen of Sheba.’
He kissed her, coaxing her lips apart as he ran his hand down the softness of her side.
‘You’re the queen of me,’ he murmured.
An insistent beep and a strident robotic voice from outside stopped their kisses. ‘Vehicle, reversing. Vehicle, reversing.’
‘Fuck’s sake!’ Rory huffed. ‘Already?’ He got out of bed and stood by the window, looking at the pier that had been built out into the loch. ‘You never told me what that’s for.’
Zoe padded to the Rayburn. ‘Just the scene where Brad sails up and discovers Kirsten is alive.’
‘And what happens when he gets out the boat?’
Zoe was silent. Rory turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow.
‘I’m just Kirsten’s stand-in. I won’t be kissing him.’
Rory closed his eyes and sighed. ‘I don’t trust that man further than I could throw him.’
He felt Zoe’s arms around him. ‘I promise there will be no physical contact with Brad. The only thing you have to worry about today is tarting yourself up for theTatlershoot.’
He held her close and kissed the top of her head.
‘Okay. But as soon as it’s done, I’m coming home.’
That afternoon Rorychanged into his best kilt, ran a comb through his hair, and met theTatlerjournalist, Lady Cassandra Moncrief, at the front door of the castle.
‘Lord MacGinley,’ she began, proffering a liver-spotted hand shining with jewels. ‘I’m Lady Moncrief, but do call me Cassie.’ She smiled warmly at him. ‘And this is Kitty and Annabel.’
Rory greeted the young women, making an effort to appear engaged. He felt itchy and uncomfortable, as if his shirt was made of rough tweed. Cassie whipped a voice recorder out of her Chanel handbag.
‘May I call you Rory?’
He nodded, pulling at his collar to release the heat burning up his neck. Kitty lifted a large camera to her face and started snapping. Rory flinched, caught between two pieces of technology he felt were designed to entrap. Cassie took his arm and squeezed. ‘Don’t worry, I promise we won’t bite. Think of this as a chat between friends.’
Rory thought about the conversations he usually had with his friends. Were they going to throw punches and call each other dickhead? He smiled despite himself.
‘I’m afraid I’m not very polite when I talk to my friends,’ he said, leading the women up the stairs and into the castle.
