Page 36 of Hollywood Games
‘I’ll see what I can do, maybe we can get you a fan heater. Did you have the radiators and the fire on?’
Kirsten nodded, putting her coffee down and picking up a huge bowl containing chopped tropical fruits. She speared a chunk of bright pink watermelon and put it in her mouth, whimpering with joy. Zoe stood awkwardly, not knowing why she had been summoned. The door opened and in strode Brad, dressed like a medieval king, ready for action.
‘Babe!’ he said, his arms open wide. Kirsten swivelled in her chair towards him, as he embraced Zoe. He looked past her to Kirsten. ‘Yeah, baby! This is finally happening!’
Peter, the head of hair and make-up, who had been titivating Kirsten’s wig, turned her chair around to face Brad. He caught Peter’s eyes and flicked his own in the direction of another chair, then at Zoe. Peter pulled it next to Kirsten’s and ushered Zoe to sit.
Brad bent at his knees, holding his hands in front of his face to form a frame and looked from Zoe to Kirsten. ‘Hmmmmm… Something’s not quite right.’
‘Yes, I agree,’ said Kirsten. ‘I was talking to His Holiness and he said in his vision, I had—’
Brad snapped his fingers. ‘That’s it. You’re right. Brown contacts and match the freckles.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Half an hour, great hall, press shots.’
Peter nodded and Brad turned with a flourish, his cloak knocking over several bottles of hair product as he exited the trailer. After a brief silence Peter barked orders at an underling, pulled up a small table on which sat a huge plastic toolbox of make-up, and set to work copying every one of Zoe’s freckles onto a silent Kirsten.
As well aseach scene being covered by a stills photographer, the production had arranged a standalone photoshoot for the main stars in the great hall. The shots would be released to the press to begin building a buzz around the film.
Zoe followed Kirsten into the hall, full of bright lights and crew members being ordered about. Brad was gesticulating wildly and talking to a man holding several big cameras. Valentina had been turned into a Native American ninja princess. She was wearing a beaded leather dress that left nothing to the imagination, off which hung Shuriken throwing stars. A long knife hung by her hip, a bow and arrow slung across her shoulder. Zoe wasn’t an expert in Native American heritage or ninjas, but knew that the outfit was offensive to at least two cultures, was hyper sexualised, and completely inappropriate as battle dress. Zoe caught Valentina’s eye and waved. She waved back and walked over. ‘Hey, Zoe. How are you doing?’
‘I’m great. How did you sleep?’
‘Oh. My. God. Like the dead! Thank you. It was so comfortable!’
‘Were you warm enough?’
‘Yes, of course. I had to turn the wall heater off.’
‘I’m so relieved, the castle can get really cold and Kirsten said she was freezing.’
They both looked at her, being brought another bowl of fruit by Shauna. ‘If she ate something hot, she might warm up a bit,’ said Valentina. ‘This isn’t exactly the season for pineapple.’
Zoe giggled. ‘Would she eat some porridge?’
‘I don’t know, maybe ask Shauna? Although it probably needs to be made with soy milk and blessed by Rasputin.’
Zoe snorted. ‘I take it you aren’t a believer?’
‘I’m from Colombia. One of my grandmothers really does talk to the dead. I’m a believer, just not in his brand of bullshit.’ She tossed her hair and gave Zoe a wicked look. ‘And he told me my past lives were all washerwomen, whores and witches, so unless he can upgrade me to Cleopatra, he can go fuck himself.’ Zoe clapped her hands to her mouth. Valentina grinned and stretched her arms over her head. ‘Right, time to put this ridiculous costume to work,’ she said, giving Zoe’s shoulder a squeeze and walking to the thrones where Brad was waiting.
Brad started by setting up shots of him and Valentina. Zoe wasn’t sure how much was fantasy, how much was art, or whether they were one and the same thing. She noticed after several shots with Valentina sitting her barely covered bottom on his knee, he had to make subtle readjustments to his codpiece.
Then it was Kirsten’s turn. Her puffa coat was finally off and she wore a long, sumptuous gown, cut low, with her breasts pushed up high. Now her freckles and eyes matched Zoe’s, the effect was uncanny. Apart from the fact Kirsten was a good six inches shorter than her, it was like looking in a mirror. Brad seemed ecstatic, slapping his thigh with delight as Kirsten draped herself over him. It gave Zoe chills seeing her kissing him, like a bad dream made real. She watched with morbid fascination as Brad ran his fingers down the front of her chest, kissing her with an open mouth and clearly his tongue. She shook herself; it was too weird.
Suddenly there was an almighty crash from the back of the hall. Brad looked up and his mouth gaped open. He sprang to his feet, dumping Kirsten unceremoniously to the ground and ran for cover behind the throne.
Zoe turned to see Rory, venom in his eyes, striding to the dais, pushing people out of his way like an avenging snowplough. He reached Kirsten on the floor, who had the curls of her wig over her face, and lifted her into his arms. He turned away from Brad and walked back across the hall carrying her.
Zoe ran to intercept him. ‘Rory! Stop!’ she yelled, standing in his path.
He stopped dead. He stared at Zoe as if she were a ghost, then at the woman he was carrying. By now, Kirsten had her arms wrapped around his neck and was looking up at him, her lips parted, her nostrils flaring with excitement. He looked to Zoe, then back to Kirsten, his brain appearing to struggle. Silence filled the room, as everyone waited to see what would happen next.
‘Rory,’ Zoe began as if trying to talk down a maniac in a hostage situation. ‘That is Kirsten. I am Zoe.’
She heard a smothered giggle from an onlooker, and Rory blinked as if regaining his senses. He gently let Kirsten down to the floor and gave her a short bow.
‘My apologies,’ he said gruffly. He didn’t wait for a reply from a clearly flustered Kirsten, he just grabbed Zoe’s hand and stalked out, dragging her with him. He stopped in the entrance hall, which was blessedly empty, and sat on the bottom step of the grand staircase, dropping his head. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t cope with this world.’
Zoe put her arm around him. ‘It won’t be for much longer, then they’ll all be gone.’
