by Ian Bull
Chapter 24
Julia Day 9: Friday Morning
I wake up at 5:30, two hours before my call. Looking west, the light on the water out my window is slate gray and the thin clouds reflect streaks of orange. The sun must be peeking over the horizon somewhere to the east.
I need to memorize my lines and nail my performance today. I also need to delay shooting. It’s strange to want to perform well in a movie while also trying to subtly sabotage it, but I don’t want to be stuck here when shooting ends. On the day this movie wraps, Xander will expect me to return to him—and if I don’t, both Trishelle and I may become playthings for Rolando. Right now I’m in a safety zone; as long as shooting continues, I have time to strategize. Therefore, I must do a fantastic job, while also making sure my job lasts as long as possible.
It’s day three of a seven-day shoot, and today we do all the outdoor scenes with my mysterious murdering husband, Nicholas, played by Bernard St. Jacques. By tonight we’ll only have four more days left. That’s not enough time.
A maid brings me fruit, yogurt and coffee at 6:00 a.m., and Diego knocks on my door an hour later and escorts me down to the set. I don’t have to worry about wardrobe; I’m in a black bikini and a pareo all day, with a white robe to wear between takes.
People dart back and forth on the veranda and say “hello” as I walk past. Most of them have been awake longer than I have. They’re paid good money to do their jobs fast and well, which leaves little time to sleep.
This morning we’re shooting all the outdoor honeymoon lovey-dovey stuff before the complete truth about my husband’s murderous past comes out. It’s all montage action that’s not strenuous on my brain, which hopefully will give me time to look around.
Diego leads me across the veranda straight to Rolando, who gestures for me to sit. Rolando pulls up a chair of his own and joins me as Diego walks away. The hand-off is complete, and no one even notices.
Rolando doesn’t smile, nod or grimace. He just stares straight ahead.
“Hi, I’m Richard,” a voice says. “Can I get you ready?”
It’s a man in his thirties who’s wearing Bermuda shorts, a blue T-shirt and a makeup tool belt around his waist. He holds an open dish of base in one hand and a makeup brush in the other.
“Sure,” I answer, “but where’s Toni?”
Richard does nothing until Rolando gestures that he has permission to approach. Richard moves directly in front of me. I tilt my face up and he dabs at my skin.
Rolando whispers in my ear as Richard’s makeup brush skims across my face.
“Things didn’t work out with Toni. She was terminated,” Rolando says.
My skin turns cold and I feel the blood drain from my face. I put my hand on Richard’s shoulder to keep from fainting, and he grabs my arm to hold me up.
“Whoa, steady,” Richard says and leans me back in my chair. “Want some water?”
“Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night,” I answer, gazing up at Richard. Rolando gets up, moves behind him and stares down at me.
“Oops. Am I replacing someone?” Richard asks.
“Toni talked too much,” Rolando answers, staring at me.
“Ouch. Cardinal sin for makeup artists,” Richard says.
The brush hairs skim my face, but I can’t feel them. I grab the wooden arms of the director’s chair to keep from shaking, but it doesn’t work.
Rolando stands behind Richard and grins. His eyes, usually dead, are now wide and alive. He wants to see this reaction and moved to get the best view of my horror.
“I know how hard it is to switch makeup artists midstream. But you’re so beautiful you barely need anything. It’ll be easy to match her look, I promise,” Richard says.
“That’s enough talking,” Rolando says. “Just work.”
Richard rolls his eyes and winks at me. A minute later he smiles at Rolando, makes a zipping motion over his lips and walks away.
Rolando sits down next to me again, which I hate. It makes me feel more vulnerable than when he faces me. He gestures at the bustling crew around us.
“It’s wonderful when you can pursue your passion and make money at it,” he says. “That’s what we all dream for, isn’t it?”
“I’m not making money on this film, and it’s not my dream,” I answer.
“I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about me,” he says. “I make movies too.”
He holds up his smartphone and touches the screen. A small video comes on. It’s Rolando, lit by a single flashlight. He’s on the black speedboat, bobbing somewhere out on the water at night. I hear crying. He heaves something over the edge of the boat and then holds it in the water. He says something in Spanish and whoever is holding the smartphone comes closer and shoots down into the water. The other person with the flashlight follows close behind and lights up the scene.
Rolando is holding Toni, and her hands are tied in front of her. She is straight up and down in the water and Rolando’s arm muscles are taut as he holds her up.
“Please! Why are you doing this? What did I do? Please, please…”
Toni begs Rolando and then looks up at whoever is holding the smartphone. Rolando lets go and Toni’s eyes widen. She tries to scream, but her mouth is already under the water as she sinks below the choppy waves. The clip ends and Rolando pockets his phone, then looks at me. I fight to control my reaction because I know that’s what he wants to see.
“You’re a monster.”
“And you’re disobedient. She’s gone because you misspoke. Think of that before you speak out of turn to anyone here again.”
I close my eyes and see Toni’s terrified face in my mind. Her face morphs into Trishelle’s.
Rolando leans close and whispers with excitement. “But I like it when you misbehave. I get to make my own movies. If I’m lucky and you misbehave enough, I’ll get to make one with you.”
I hiss at him. “Remember who you’re talking to. Xander won’t tolerate you speaking to me this way. I’m his lead actor.”
“Only until shooting ends,” he says and pats my hand.
“Xander’s in charge and if he is happy with me, you’ll do nothing,” I say. “And be careful because I may even have something to say about what happens to you by then.”
“We’re ready, Julia. In position please,” Walker says, striding up.
I get up and follow Walker without even looking back at that skunk for permission. As I walk, I keep thinking of Toni’s pleading face on the screen. She’s dead because of me. I hold my breath to keep from crying, then reach out and grab Walker’s belt to stop him.
“Whoa, trooper. You want to sit down?” he asks.
Instead I grab both his forearms and he grabs mine. “Sorry, I got up too fast,” I say.
He waits, holding me steady. I sense eyes are on me and when I glance back, Rolando’s eyes lock into mine with his thousand-yard stare. The skunk suspects.
I wonder where Trishelle is. Rolando saw us trade the “thumbs-up” signal last night. Now I doubt my entire strategy. If I get caught, Trishelle dies. What I should do is sleep with Xander. Then she’d be safe and Rolando would disappear, but that idea infuriates me even more. No, surrendering guarantees nothing.
“The blood is back in your face,” Walker says.
“That’s because I’m angry.”
“We all are, sister. But not at you.”
“Let’s get ‘er done,” I say, and I step into the set.
“Julia Travers says ‘let’s get her done!’” shouts Walker, and a collective “whoop” rises up from the crew.
I feel a rush of warmth. I’m back in my comfort zone, safe from Rolando. He can watch me all he wants, I’m sticking with my plan.
We start with a scene by the pool. Bernard walks up and lies down on the lounge chair next to mine. “Good morning, my wife,” Bernard coos.
“Good morning, husband,” I coo back.
Bernard wears blue shorts made of raw silk, and an op
en white shirt. He is lean and just a little muscular. It’s believable that Risa Baker, my character, would fall for him despite our age difference.
I open my robe and turn towards him, showing off my bikini body. “Why do you get to wear clothes and I have to be in a swimsuit?” I ask.
“Because you’re why people buy movie tickets,” he says.
Sammie, Anthony and Paul and the rest of the crew circle around us, tweaking the lights and getting the final measurements. The red tally light flashes on the camera. Over at video village Rolando joins Nathan and David watching Bernard and me on the monitors.
I laugh and put my hand on his leg, and he puts his hand on top of mine.
“Are you flirting with me?” he asks.
“It’s not flirting if we’re married and in love. And we get to be in love all day.”
He smiles at me and puts his hand on my hip.
“I’m fat,” I complain. “I had to gain weight for this shoot.”
“You look fine to me,” he says, and adds a light stroke to my leg.
“Oops, look at your hand,” I say, and his hand comes up with a streak of yellow.
“I should have told you that part of my tan was sprayed on,” I say, and offer him the sleeve of my terry cloth robe.
He wipes his hand, and leaves a stain on my white robe. We both wince and look at video village. Richard hurries over with his makeup kit just as the costumer arrives with a new robe.
“No touchy touchy,” Richard says.
“Sorry, we’ll be good,” I say, and I stand up so he can fix my fake tan while I change my robe.
It takes five glorious minutes for Richard to get my skin tone set again.
“Let’s just get the wide shot without hands!” Nathan shouts.
I cover my microphone with my hand as I lie back down. “We’re supposed to touch, don’t worry,” I say, and then snuggle close.
Bernard doesn’t need much encouragement to touch my leg or tummy or face, which creates continuity, wardrobe and make-up problems. I manage to milk six takes out of a shot that should have been done in one. Rolando comes over after twenty minutes.
“No more fooling around.”
“People have to believe we’re in love. If they don’t, they won’t care when they find out I’m in love with a killer,” I say.
“Then love each other without touching.”
“Why must I explain this? If you have a problem, tell Xander, he’s the producer,” I say. “Where is he, anyway?”
Rolando turns around and walks away.
“I like how you handled him,” Bernard says.
“We’re the ones on camera, not him,” I say.
If I can draw Xander away from whatever he’s doing, I can control the situation even more. I remember the photos from last night. Whatever’s happening is distracting Xander and keeping him away from the set. Adding drama here may misdirect his time and attention even more.
The pool scene goes well. Our characters share childhood stories as we lie on our sides, staring at each other and touching. Then, between takes, Bernard shares his own real childhood stories about growing up outside Montreal.
He whispers, his face inches away from mine. He grew up poor with an obsessive mother and a father who drank. He holds my hand while he shares, all the while staring at my boobs. I nod with sympathy and stroke his thumb with mine. He moves his hand to my hip. Rolando whispers into his walkie-talkie, probably updating Xander on the torrid touching going on out by the pool.
We move to the beach for the next scene—strolling on the sand after snorkeling. We start in hip deep water with masks, snorkels and swim fins, then wade onto the pink beach holding hands. We stop and kiss on the beach, and then keep walking while he puts his arm around my waist.
It’s a simple shot, but I make sure it gets complicated. There’s a camera dolly with rubber tires on the beach that rolls back with us as we walk. The palm fronds we have to cross under make it hard to get the pacing just right. I also drop my snorkel gear twice.
Then there’s the makeup. Richard must create the perfect combination of oil and salt water on my skin, and slick my wet blonde hair back perfectly. I mess it up just enough that Richard must fix it after each take. Richard has an even worse time with Bernard, whose fake six-pack lines keep dissolving away, and as co-producer I insist that my husband look sexy and cut.
It’s one gigantic hassle, but Bernard loves it. Ten times we stroll into the water and ten times we stroll out. Ten times he kisses me, tells me he loves me, then puts his hand on my waist and walks me down the beach. By the fifth time, he gives my ass a squeeze before sliding his arm around my waist. I giggle, but don’t object. By the tenth time, he doesn’t even bother with my waist and just cups my ass.
Most of all, I want the swim fins I’m holding. I remember the map in Xander’s office, and the distance between the islands isn’t that far. If I can get away with these fins and get to the next island, I might have a chance. I never put them down, or even motion with them. I want these fins to become such a part of me that no one sees what I do with them. Everyone can watch Bernard grab my ass instead.
Rolando’s calls finally get through because Xander arrives and says hello to no one. From my starting point in the water, I can see him tap David on the shoulder, gesture for him to move, and then take his place next to Nathan. They whisper.
Walker and Sammie, the second AC, stand ten feet to my right, in the water, holding their walkie-talkies over their heads to keep them dry. Walker hears a request crackle through his earbud.
“Copy,” he responds and turns to Bernard. “No more ass grabbing. Got that?”
“Completely,” Bernard answers, hiding a smile. “I apologize, Julia.”
“Let’s slate it!” shouts Walker, and Sammie sticks the clapper in my face.
“Scene 16, Take 11,” Sammie says and he snaps the slate shut.
After eleven takes, everyone is happy.
“May I have your snorkel gear back please?” an assertive voice asks.
She’s a tall woman with red hair whom I’ve only seen once before. She’s the prop master, and I can tell that I can’t just wave her away like I did with the production assistant when I stole his gaffer’s tape. Bernard and I hand her our fins and masks.
I put on my sunglasses and a sun hat and listen as Bernard tells me about his second wife, but I’m really following the prop master with my eyes to see where she puts the snorkel gear. She plunges the gear into a bucket of fresh water and tosses it all into a blue rubber bin.
Xander appears and kisses me on the cheek. Rolando is five feet behind him.
“Hello, Mr. Constantinou,” Bernard says. Xander ignores him so Bernard slinks away.
“You were gone all morning,” I say.
“I’ve had some challenges to attend to,” he says.
“You’re not upset with me, are you?” I ask.
Xander smiles. “So now you care if I’m upset with you? When did that happen?”
“Stop it. I did some good work this morning, and you weren’t around. That’s all.”
“I heard all about it,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at Bernard.
“I didn’t cast him, you did,” I tease. “I’m just doing my job.”
“You’re playing games.”
“And you’re not?” I ask, and I raise my eyebrows at him.
Xander’s face softens. Walker tries to walk over, but Rolando stops him. Walker, who towers over him, just raises his voice.
“Just tell them their lunch is ready at their table,” he says and walks away.
“I want us to eat alone. I don’t want that pig Rolando anywhere near us,” I say.
“You know how to make Rolando disappear,” he says. “Just accept my offer.”
The table with our food is in the shade, close to the stone stairs leading up to the villa. As we sit, Xander gestures to Rolando that he can stand a little farther away from us. I’m relieved. Now I can gauge Xan
der’s emotions with a little more privacy.
I also have a clear view of the blue bin just over Xander’s shoulder. I barely glance at the fish and rice on my plate, for fear the prop master may move the bin while I’m sliding food on my fork. Finally she lifts the bin onto a red wagon with all her other props and tugs it away.
I focus now on Xander instead. “Something is bothering you. You’re sure that you’re not upset with me?” I ask.
“I already told you, no, I’m not.”
“You can’t expect me to change overnight,” I say. “You’re asking a lot of me.”
“Stop it. I told you, that’s not it.”
“This is how girlfriends talk to their boyfriends. Are you sure you want that?”
Xander lifts his finger and motions for silence. I obey, but also smile at him, which makes him smirk. I know this is the state he wants me in.
Rolando’s phone rings and he answers. Xander looks at him. I keep eating, but I watch the signals that pass between the two men. Rolando issues some curt answers into his phone, hangs up and shakes his head at Xander.
Xander leaves the table without a word and he and Rolando walk ten yards to the side. I keep staring forward but with my sideways micro-glances I see Xander poke Rolando hard in the chest and ask him a question. Rolando doesn’t answer.
I remember the photos in his office, and I wonder what it means.
Chapter 25
Steven Day 9: Friday Morning
The news spreads fast when there’s gunfire. Soon everyone knows that down at The Screw Pump there are two bad guys handcuffed on the floor and two bodies in the freezer. Gawkers stroll by the outside of the bar and peek into the darkened interior. Every five minutes a kid darts in to look around and Tyler chases him out.
Me, I’m in the freezer, shivering, looking at two dead men lying on the cold floor. My stomach churns from lack of sleep and my head and body ache from all my bruises and scars. None of it registers in the front of my brain, though; not with Death right in front of me.
I think back to the events of last night…
Moments after the shooting, Carl and I went inside the house and found Cherie and Simon alive but terrified. Cherie had welts on her wrists from where they had tied her but otherwise she wasn’t physically harmed. Mentally, she wasn’t so good though. She kept crying and wouldn’t answer when Carl spoke to her. Simon was in worse shape. They had broken his hand with the butt end of a rifle and locked him in a closet.
