Page 64 of Blood Stone
Kate paused from zipping up fresh jeans, stunned. She leaned to one side to glance at Adrian through the door. “And the press just discovered this?”
“TheLate Showtipped them off. Letterman is on vacation and they had a guest anchor. Reggie Yima. He’s the comedy actor who did thatStar Trekspoof. Friend of yours, Kate?”
He put enough emphasis on the word ‘friend’ that Kate knew he was asking if she had ever taken Reggie Yima to bed. Kate pulled her top down and stepped back out into her office. “I know him enough to know he’s madly in love with his live-in boyfriend.” She smiled at Adrian and ran her fingers through her hair, untangling it so it didn’t look like she had spent the night drinking herself into a stupor at her desk. “Reggie must just like the idea of the movie.”
“A Twitter follower, then?” Adrian suggested.
“Maybe.”
“His plug mentioned the Internet and it was a just the hint for most of the film media to head there. A single Google search brings up nearly twenty thousand relevant hits. They must have peed their pants to see the interest in the movie already happening on-line and grabbed the first available transport out here, afraid they were missing out.”
“How do you know all this? You weren’t watching theLate Showon Tuesday night.”
Adrian gave a lop-sided smile. “I had nothing to do last night, so I borrowed a laptop and went surfing to find out what they’d said on theLate Show.”
Kate had trouble looking him in the eye for a moment. She knew that an explanation was due, but now wasn’t the time.
“TheLate Showplug prompted me to search the movie on Google,” he continued, “and I was drowned in hits. It was an eye opener.” Adrian nodded toward the blue tent, which was just visible through the door. “I could hear the press mob as I headed back from the shower trailer this morning, so I veered over there to check out what was happening and found Mary-Ann almost in tears. I propped her up then came here to warn you. Brittany beat me to it.”
“Thanks.”
He shrugged.
The silence that fell was still awkward.
Damn, Kate thought. She didn’t want awkward. She wanted it back like it had been before last night. Why had she screwed it up? Or had she? Why had telling him to stay away for a night screwed it up? Were his feelings hurt? Did hehavefeelings? Because he hadn’t demonstrated anything more than the most superficial caring at any time.
Kate deliberately moved on. She didn’t need open heart surgery right now. “I really need coffee in the worst way.” She glanced longingly at the espresso machine on her sidebar. “The stew they give the extras is going to have to do.”
Adrian stood up. “It may get rid of your hangover quicker.”
She grimaced. “It’s self-inflicted. Don’t spare me any sympathy.”
“I’m not. But I do know where there’s some T3’s stashed, if you’d like ‘em?”
“They’ll put me to sleep,” she protested. “I need to be totally alert for the barracudas in the press tent.”
“They’re the ones with caffeine in them.”
“Then yes,” she said gratefully. “A whole handful of them and an energy drink to wash them down with.”
“You’ll get two at a time and coffee, to start,” Adrian replied. “Then, if you still need it, we’ll see about the energy drink. We don’t want the press to see you bouncing off walls and wondering about cocaine, either.”
She sighed. “God, no. Fine, two and coffee.” She headed for the door. “I’ll go rescue Mary-Ann from Jaws. Perhaps you could scare up Garrett? He’s big enough bait to keep them occupied and he’s had more than enough practice fending them off. Then we can ease Patrick out of his beauty sleep and into make-up before we put him in front of their cameras.”
* * * * *
It was day three of what Kate and the cast and crew had started calling “Warrior Watch” behind the backs of the media when it happened. By then, tempers had started to frazzle and petty frustrations to build.
And on day three, a sand storm hit and shut down production for the day. Howling, hot desert winds whipped up the bleach dry sand and sent it boiling across the plains, hissing across flat surfaces and skin, making it unpleasant to stand outside for too long. It wore on everyone’s temper.
The local weather forecast said the storm was settling in for at least the next eight hours, so Kate reluctantly called off shooting and set about rescheduling with her department heads, to see what could be salvaged if they jumped to night shooting once the storm was over.
It was the third day that Garrett was ostensibly missing from the daily production meetings. From the beginning he had invited himself along, unaware or uncaring that they were normally a closed session where the head crew members could let off steam and roll up their sleeves and problem solve without worrying about what a sponsor might think of some of the admittedly bizarre behaviour and speech that sometimes emerged from their mouths. Four letter words were the least creative language used.
But Garrett had sat in on the meetings anyway, crowding her small office, even though he had said very little.
Her heads had gathered around her desk, two in the visitor chairs, one in her chair, while Jerry from costumes sat on the sideboard next to her, her sample board folded up and resting on the floor between her knees. “Calum not joining us again?” Jerry asked as the others dusted sand from the folds of their clothes and their hair.
