“God-damn-it!” Allan threw the phone in a desk drawer and slammed it shut, which served to muffle the incessant ringing slightly.
“Can’t say she didn’t warn you.” Ian grinned.
“I know. I know. But every Tom, Dick, and Harry wants a piece of this movie, even guys who wouldn’t know a camera from a projector. High- powered money, all of it. I don’t need this grief.”
Jamie rolled her eyes. “Unplug the damn phone and let us get to work.”
“Okay.” Allan led the way from his office to a conference room. “Here’s the scoop. I’ve met with Madame twice since our dinner. She’s given me an outline of her concept for the movie. Joe and his team are working on the script now.”
“What kinds of demands did she make?” Shane asked.
“None. This is our baby.” Allan closed his eyes, then opened them just enough to squint. “Oh, yeah. One more thing. She said you guys could help develop the script.”
“Yahoo!” Shane wasn’t the only one jumping with glee. Script control was an actor’s dream.
Allan sighed and sagged lower in his chair. “Lord, Madame, do you have any idea what you’ve condemned me to?”
Jamie laughed and tousled his hair. “We’ll go easy on you.”
Allan rolled his eyes. “Sure you will.” Why did she leave them to develop the movie on their own? Was that because she thought she had given Allan enough input, or because she chose to trust them? Or, Ron wondered with a flash of insight, was it because she controlled what they did in the same mysterious way she controlled everything she was implicated in? He sat up straighter. If she did control them, did she control him too? Were his feelings for her his own or fabricated by her? Tiny flames of anger flared.
“She wants a movie dependent on a strong storyline and strong characters, not on special effects. She made it very clear that it’s to be a love story, not just love between the hero and heroine, but love for family and friends and fellow man. She wants people to go home from the movie taking love and laughter from it to their own homes and lives.”
“A tall order.” Vicky looked worried. “Love conquers all.”
“How do we do it without sounding clichéd?”
“I’ve made some notes, and here’s an early draft of Joe’s outline. I think he’s made a damn good start and we’ll make one hell of a movie.”
Ron studied Allan. Did he really believe that? Didn’t everything belong to Em—the idea, the success, and the credit? Wasn’t this just like everything else she did?
*
Day one of a shoot was always filled with excited anticipation that soon wore off with the “hurry up and wait” of actual filming. The cast and crew were gathered for one of Allan’s famous opening speeches.
There was a ripple of activity and a rise in tension from the back of the group. Then laughter. Ron’s heart lurched when he spotted Em. She was shaking hands and chatting with crew members. With a wink at Allan, she told them to have fun and asked that it be a truly closed set. Ron almost cried when she turned to leave. She hadn’t acknowledged him at all, hadn’t even seemed to notice him.
*
Em shook hands with Allan and headed for the exit. She hadn’t dared look at Ron. Everyone would know how she felt just by looking at her face. She sighed with relief when she saw him headed her way.
“Allow me to escort you, Madame.” He sounded nervous, gave a slight formal bow and offered his arm. Em glanced up at him and after a moment inclined her head and slid her hand through the crook of his elbow. He placed his other hand on her arm. His touch burned and she wanted to prolong her time with him, but didn’t know what to say. The silence held no awkwardness, but rather a tingling of anticipation At the door, she gently disengaged her arm from his and held his hand in both of hers. She turned to face him directly and smiled. Thank you, was all she said.
*
I groaned as I watched. I was glad Elspeth wasn’t around. I needed to be alone, for there was a glow around Ron, a sort of halo of happiness and fulfillment, a halo with a sexual edge that set my teeth to grinding.
*
Allan raked his hands through his hair. He was tired and cranky. “Damn. This just isn’t working.” They were watching shots of the rescue scene. “It sounded so damn good on paper, but on film it looks fucking stupid.” Allan frowned and muttered under his breath.
The argument started all over again as they tried to resolve the pivotal scene.
“You’re making her sound like a wimp,” Jamie said.
“Come on Jamie, be reasonable. At this point your character is afraid for her life and the life of the man she loves. Of course she would plead,” Shane said.
“But everything we know about her says that she is strong and would stand up to these guys.” Vicky was sticking to her guns on this one. Jamie agreed.
“God, what was Madame thinking? She must never have worked with actors or she wouldn’t have insisted you all be part of the creative process.” Allan slumped in his chair only half joking.
“We need Miracle Madame,” Ian said.
*
“You called?” Em was thrilled. They needed her. And Ron was there.
“I don’t know what Ian has in mind, but it’s good to see you.” Allan beamed.
“And why do you need me?”
“I think you should come to the rescue,” Ian said.
“Ian, you’re brilliant.” Jamie jumped up and hugged him. “We can rewrite the scene and have Madame come in just before Ron’s character goes to the police.”
“No, let’s have her—”
“See what you condemned me to, asking me to work with actors. I’ll be lucky if I’m not bald when this is done.”
She laughed and reached over to ruffle Allan’s very thick hair. “I wouldn’t start worrying yet.”
Ron hushed the group and turned to her. “Will you do it?” He looked down at his hand, resting lightly on her shoulder. His eyes smiled.
“You really want me in the movie?” They nodded. “Mr. Austin?”
“I have to confess, their idea makes sense and what we have now just isn’t any good.”
“Have we got that on tape?” Vicky asked. “Allan admitting we’re right. Wow.” Allan glared at her.
“Will you do it?” Ron repeated.
She looked around the group and glanced up at Ron. He nodded encouragingly. “What the heck. Sure. When do you want me here?”
Those were the best days—those days on the set. Talk and laughter and … well, worry free time, carefree time, is what it was. And there were moments when she had the great good fortune to be alone with Ron.
*
I hadn’t sent her to that damn movie set. She went on her own. She was getting a bit too independent for my liking. I paced and fumed watching her with her precious little Ronnie, and jumped when Elspeth snuck up on me.
She chuckled. “Sorry.” Didn’t sound the least bit sincere. Bratty sister. “May I watch again?”
“Sure.” Why not let her? She knew the whole story anyway.
“Oh, that’s nice.” Elspeth practically cooed. “Poor Ron was so nervous he could hardly talk to Em, but look at him now. Chatting away.”
I hated the comfort zone developing between them, hated the way he looked at her, the way she looked at him. Big moony eyes.
“Why does he keep frowning at her hands?”
“He’s speculating endlessly about her broken fingernails.” I couldn’t figure out why that was such an issue with him. Broken fingernails. Big deal.
“They really like each other.” Em, perched on a stool, put an arm around Ron’s shoulder and leaned closer to whisper something in his ear. He leaned toward her to close the distance between them. Elspeth smiled indulgently as she watched.
Just how would that feel? I wondered. To have that touch, that closeness, that gentle intimacy.
*
As Em joked with Vicky, Jamie chewed on her bottom lip. Someone called Vicky to change her costume.
“What’s bothering you so, Miss Town?”
“He’s in love with you,” Jamie blurted.
“Desperately in love with you. He’s our friend. We care about him and don’t want to see him hurt.” Em stared at Jamie, her heart in her throat and beating faster than usual. I’m not wrong. I’m not wrong. She almost sang the words out loud. Jamie shuffled her feet and looked down at the floor. Em turned to see Ron watching them. “Please let him down gently.” Jamie said.
“Or, maybe not at all.”
*
“Shit, shit, shit.” I ran. As fast as I could, across the park, past the guards, smack into Mentor coming out of the Grand Council Chambers. I edged past her, ignored her call, and ran.
*
“So-o-o?” Tony stood in the doorway to Ron’s den, frowning at his friend. “In the doldrums are we? Pouting a little? Missing the glory of working with Em.”
Ron glared. Tony was always too damned perceptive.
Tony laughed and settled in the recliner beside Ron’s, known as the UTBC, “Uncle Tony’s Behind Comforter.” Tony took a sip of the cognac Ron handed him. “Do you think she enjoyed filming?”
“Nah. She tried to hide it, but she’s too impatient for all the waiting around.”
“It’s amazing that no one leaked the story of her on your set.”
“She asked for a closed set and she got it.” Controlled everything. Controlled me? Ron was in agony. If she controlled him, what did that make him? A fucking boy-toy, without the fucking?
“The movie’s a bloody sensation. All the hype that Hollywood dreams of, but can never quite generate. Everyone’s talking about it. As if one little movie could change the world. Of course since it’s her movie, it is changing the world. Have you seen the testimonials?”
Control, total control. Ron chose his words carefully. “I believe that no matter what we had done with the movie, it would have had the exact impact on viewers that she wanted.”
“You believe she has that much power and control over the world?”
And of me?
“Ron? You with me, buddy?”
“For sure. You only have to watch the news to know that.”
“Jesus! You really think so.” Ron nodded. “Well you got to be with her up close and personal, you ought to know. All the big guns—CIA, KBG, UN—would love to say she’s theirs. Did she ever explain any of this to you?”
Ron shrugged. “No.”
“Makes sense. Can’t imagine her revealing too much. Your life’s gonna be a media barrage of hell now. Any regrets?”
“Hell, no!”
Tony laughed at the outburst. “None?”
“Working with her has been a gift.” In the core of his being he felt truly blessed.
*
They went to Raûl’s to celebrate completing the film. Raûl and his father greeted them warmly, brought several platters of food and numerous bottles of beer, and refused to accept payment.
“How are you surviving?” Ian asked Raûl. “Is all the attention from the media, not to mention the hordes of people lined up to eat here, driving you crazy?”
“It did for a while, but we asked la senora to stop it and she did.”
“Why?” Shane asked. “You could have made a lot of money. Moved to a bigger place.”
“We are happy here. My mother says what we have is enough. My father says we don’t need to get greedy like the landowners back home.”
“This is one very wise family,” Vicky said as Raûl went to the next table. “I admire them.”
“Why do you suppose she never offered us the option of being free of the media frenzy?” Shane asked.
“Would we really want that?” Allan asked. There was a long silence as they studied their cutlery intently.
“We like the attention,” Ian said finally. “At least I know I do.”
Em’s sudden arrival interrupted whatever the others might have said. “I was visiting with Grandma, and Raûl said you were here.” Soon the conversation was sailing along with hoots of laughter and good-natured fun.
*
There were times I wanted to reveal myself, let the cozy little group see me, let everyone see me, let them know it was me working with Em, and this was one of those times. To be with that cheery
group, talking and joking with Em …, but of course that too, was against the rules.
Ron sat there like some sort of king. He was, I guess. Why Mentor chose him, I’ll never know, but he was one lucky bastard.