Pacific

by Judy Nunn

  Elizabeth was seated nearby. ‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘Mickey asked me if I’d like to come out and watch the filming.’ She and Mickey exchanged a smile that spoke multitudes.

  Sam had noticed the two of them huddled together at the party last night. Well, they’d obviously had a good time, she thought, I’m glad somebody did. She plopped, exhausted, into Maz’s makeup chair.

  ‘I’m looking forward to seeing the experts at work.’ Elizabeth’s pretty brown face beamed unashamed pleasure as she leaned forward and took Mickey’s hand. She’d been delighted last night when he’d asked her how to say ‘I find you sexy’ in Bislama. She’d set her sights on him a week ago and she’d wondered what had taken him so long.

  ‘Everyone out, please,’ Maz broke up the chat. ‘Brett’ll be here for touch-ups, we need both chairs.’

  ‘Maz the Militant,’ Mickey said, but he obediently rose, stooping as he did, his lanky frame too tall for the van. ‘Come on, Liz, let’s get a cup of tea.’

  ‘You can grab a quick cuppa too if you like, Ralph,’ Maz said.

  The offer was casual, but Ralph knew she wanted him out of the van for a moment. He closed the door behind him.

  ‘You’ve hit the wall, haven’t you,’ Maz said to Sam as she poured a glass of water. Then she delved into what she referred to as ‘the help kit’, her stash of remedies and drugs, many of which were illegal without a prescription.

  So that was why she’d felt so suddenly exhausted, Sam realised. Of course! It hadn’t been simply lack of sleep catching up with her. She’d wondered why she’d felt so good this morning, why she hadn’t looked hungover, and why she hadn’t felt tired after a fair bit of booze and only several hours’ sleep. The bad trip might have passed, but the pill had still been working. Now the effects had worn off and she’d crashed.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you’re right, I’ve hit the wall.’

  ‘Drink this,’ Maz handed her an ugly-looking concoction in a glass.

  ‘What the hell is it?’

  ‘A bit of everything, but basically a massive dose of vitamin B.’

  The mixture had a surprisingly instant effect. ‘Wow,’ Sam said as she felt her eyes spring open.

  ‘Good stuff, eh? Maz’s miracle cure. Lie back, we’ve got time to go from the top.’ She tilted the chair and started cleansing Sam’s face.

  They were silent for a while, Sam relaxing under Maz’s expert ministrations.

  ‘I took an ecstasy pill,’ she finally admitted. Maz hadn’t asked for any explanation, but given all the extra work inflicted upon her, Sam felt that she was owed one.

  ‘Thought so,’ Maz said, placing the cool, soothing pads over Sam’s eyes. ‘And you’re not used to them, right?’

  Sam shook her head.

  There was a tap at the door, Ralph being tactful. He popped his head in. ‘All clear?’

  ‘Yep,’ Maz said. Ralph had Brett Marsdon in tow, and she looked shrewdly at the American as he stepped up into the van. She knew damn well where Sam’s e had come from. The little prick, she thought.

  Fifteen minutes later, her makeup fully restored, her body and mind revitalised by Maz’s ‘miracle cure’, Sam sat with Mickey and Brett in the Reid’s set awaiting Simon’s call of ‘action’.

  ‘Wily Post, eh?’ Hugh was impressed.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Wily flashed a smile at Sarah, pleased that Dr Blackston knew of Wily Post’s fame.

  ‘Thank goodness, Hugh.’ Sarah laughed. ‘You’ve saved the Blackston name. When Lieutenant Halliday first introduced himself to me I had no idea who Wily Post was.’

  ‘One of the greatest aviators the world’s ever known, my dear.’

  Hugh Blackston had recently returned to Vila after a month’s absence, and the three of them were sitting in the lounge at Reid’s Hotel, Sarah having introduced the American to her husband.

  Hugh turned to Wily with a smile. ‘So your destiny was preordained, Lieutenant. Given a name like that, you were of course duty bound to become a pilot.’

  ‘I guess I was, sir.’ Wily grinned, he liked the doctor.

  Hugh had taken an instinctive liking to the young pilot too, it was difficult not to, he was so ingenuous. But he rather wished the fellow wouldn’t call him ‘sir’; there would, after all, be little more than ten years’ difference in their ages. He decided to nip it in the bud.

  ‘Shall we dispense with the “sir”, Lieutenant?’

  Wily was nonplussed. Had he caused offence? He’d intended only respect. The guy was a doctor and a reverend one at that.

  Hugh realised that the young man thought he’d offended him, and he laughed out loud. ‘Good heavens, man, you make me feel so old!’

  The scene was progressing beautifully and Simon couldn’t have been happier. Brett was relaxed. No longer set upon making a personal impact, he was responding to Mickey and a relationship was developing between the two men. A relationship that Brett himself wasn’t fully aware of, Simon thought, just as Wily Halliday wouldn’t be. The subtleties of the scene lay in Mickey’s performance. The older man was studying the Lieutenant’s good looks, aware that the young man was the same age as his wife. He was aware, too, that his wife had developed a friendship with this man, as she had with many of the military with whom she worked. Hugh Blackston trusted his wife implicitly, and felt like a traitor as he pondered his misgivings.

  ‘Time to go, my dear.’ Hugh rose from the table. They’d been there for some time, discussing Sarah’s work with the military, and the indispensable place Mamma Black’s now served in Vila. Hugh was proud of his wife, and ashamed of the feelings he wrestled with. ‘Perhaps, Lieutenant, you might care to join us for dinner?’

  ‘What an excellent suggestion, Hugh.’ Sarah smiled from her husband to Wily and back again.

  ‘I’d be honoured, Dr Blackston,’ Wily said.

  ‘Shall we make it Hugh?’

  ‘Cut,’ Simon called.

  ‘Brett’s responding to Mickey like there’s no tomorrow,’ Simon said to Sam on the way back to the hotel. He’d suggested she go with him in his Suzuki hire car instead of travelling in the Landcruiser with Bob Crawley and the others. She’d had a feeling she knew why: he wanted to talk about Brett. She’d been right.

  ‘Yes, he is,’ she agreed, ‘but then Mickey’s so easy to respond to …’

  But Simon wasn’t listening. ‘The first scene between you two is the worry. In fact the whole relationship between Sarah and Wily’ll be a worry if we can’t break through this Hollywood star syndrome shit. Has he got the hots for you?’

  The question had come out of nowhere and she looked at him in astonishment. But he was concentrating on the rough, rutted road and simply waiting for her answer.

  Sam knew Simon Scanlon well enough now not to find him offensive. Every personal intrusion was for the good of the movie, she’d discovered, so she decided to be honest.

  ‘He tried to chat me up last night,’ she admitted, ‘but I don’t know how serious it was. He was a bit grog-affected. We both were.’ She made no mention of drugs.

  ‘Yes, he fancies you all right, I could see that in the impro this morning. Which of course could work to our advantage.’

  The slits of his eyes were still focussed on the road, but Sam could tell his brain was working overtime. She didn’t know whether to feel outraged or not.

  ‘Are you asking me to sleep with him for the sake of the movie?’

  ‘Well, stranger things have happened.’ Simon shrugged. Then he turned to meet her eyes, which were wide with astonishment. ‘Good God, no, woman,’ he laughed. ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t. Torrid affairs amongst actors can make for a shitload of trouble.’ His smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared and he concentrated again on the road, swerving to avoid the potholes when he could. ‘But you have an effect on him, Sam. It may be sexual, it may be your performance — I suspect it’s a mixture of both. All I know is that he relates to you on some level. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t inten
d to try to find out. If I do he’ll close off from me altogether.’ His eyes met hers again, and he said in all seriousness, ‘I need you to get through to him, Sam.’

  Oh great, she thought, and how the hell am I supposed to do that?

  ‘Basically he’s insecure,’ Simon continued. ‘He’s got it all there to play Wily Halliday, he just doesn’t know it, so he uses the tricks.’

  Sam agreed wholeheartedly. But what did Simon expect her to do?

  ‘How do I go about it?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve no idea. Bloody awful road, isn’t it?’ he said as they hit another unavoidable pothole.

  The crowded dining room at the Crowne Plaza was as lively as always that night and the discussion, as usual, was of the day’s filming. It was a hot, sultry evening and the general consensus was to meet at the pool after dinner for a dip and a drink before crashing early. Many were still feeling the effects of the previous night’s party.

  ‘Fancy a drink at my place?’ Sam asked Brett. She’d decided to take the bull by the horns.

  ‘Sure.’ Christ, it was the full come-on, he thought.

  There was no mistaking his eagerness, so Sam set him straight. ‘I want to talk about tomorrow’s scene,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he grinned impishly, ‘we can do some more impro. See you there in ten, I’ll just call by my place first.’

  Ten minutes later there was a tap at her bungalow door and she opened it to discover him brandishing a bottle of Bollinger and two chilled glasses.

  ‘Called in at the bar on my way,’ he said.

  His eyes were bright, he was in full party mode, and Sam suspected that he’d snorted a quick line in preparation for some action. But she said nothing as they walked out onto the verandah where they sat, Brett opening the champagne.

  ‘To us,’ he toasted when he’d filled the glasses.

  ‘To the movie,’ she said automatically as they clinked.

  ‘Now, where do we start?’ He put his glass on the table, ready to close in.

  ‘We don’t. I meant what I said, Brett, I want to talk about work.’

  ‘Sure, go for it.’ Plenty of time, he thought, they had all night.

  ‘You were terrific in the three-hander scene today. Mickey thought so too.’

  ‘He did?’ Seduction was momentarily forgotten at praise from Mickey Robertson. ‘That’s great. I love working with him.’

  ‘Me too. He always manages to bring out the truth of a scene. That’s why you two were great together today, the scene was so bloody truthful.’

  Brett looked suspicious. Was there criticism intended? ‘And it’s why our scene didn’t work, is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I’m saying.’ Sam could see the defensiveness spring into play, but she was going for broke. Subtlety was not her forte, she could only be direct and say things the way she saw them. Damn you, Simon, she thought, I’m no psychiatrist, I’m probably doing irreparable damage.

  ‘I see.’ Brett’s paranoia leapt to the fore. She didn’t like working with him. Just like Scanlon, she thought he was full of Hollywood bullshit. Well, fuck her. He was a star and this was her first fucking movie. What would she know?

  ‘Do you realise how attractive you are, Brett?’

  He’d drained his glass and was about to leave, but the non sequitur confused him and he stared at her suspiciously. What was she playing at?

  ‘I was knocked out when I first met you,’ she said. She had to get through to him quickly, she thought, he was on the verge of walking out. ‘Not just the good looks and all that, it was your eagerness that stunned me. I hadn’t expected you to be so … I don’t know …’ she fumbled for the word ‘… so enthusiastic, I suppose, so unaffected. I remember thinking you were like a puppy wagging his tail.’

  ‘How cute,’ he said coldly. And how patronising, he thought.

  ‘Oh you were much more than cute.’ She could tell he was insulted, but she refused to be deterred. ‘You were disarming. You were magnetic.’

  ‘Was I?’ Brett rose. ‘Pity I turned out to be such a disappointment.’ He’d asked for it, he supposed. What an egotistical idiot he’d been, arriving with champagne, assuming she wanted to pick up where they’d left off last night. It was his humiliation she was after, and she’d succeeded. She was pissed off, and he couldn’t blame her, she had every right to be.

  ‘I’m sorry about the party,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have spiked your drink. I was high and I wasn’t thinking. It was a stupid thing to do.’ He had to get out whilst he still had a vestige of dignity. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, sit down.’ She picked up the bottle and refilled his glass. ‘Stop taking this personally.’

  ‘How am I supposed to take it? You want to piss on me for taking advantage of you? Fine, you’ve done it, and I’ve said I’m sorry. Good night.’

  ‘I don’t want to piss on you, that’s not what I’m saying.’

  ‘Then what the hell are you saying, Sam?’

  ‘I’m saying Brett Marsdon is Wily Halliday,’ she explained, exasperated. ‘Sit down and drink your champagne and stop being so bloody defensive.’ He sat but he didn’t drink his champagne, he watched her instead.

  ‘The Brett Marsdon I first met was Wily Halliday,’ she said. ‘He wasn’t out to make an impression, he was an excited, eager puppy. Don’t you see, Brett? That’s Wily!’ She was so passionately earnest that Brett forgot the perceived insult. ‘Wily’s completely unaware of the effect he has on people,’ she continued. ‘That’s his true charm. He honestly doesn’t know that he’s charismatic.’ She picked up her glass, sat back and studied him. ‘And that’s the impression I had of you when we first met.’ She raised the glass in a silent toast, then downed the champagne in one hit. ‘And that’s why you’re going to be the perfect Wily Halliday.’ Had she got through? She hoped so, she’d meant every word she’d said.

  Brett was silent for a moment. It was just the boost his shaken ego needed. ‘Thanks, Sam.’ He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  ‘Just stating the facts.’ She put the glass on the table and took a deep breath. ‘One other thing, though …’ She wasn’t sure how he’d react, but she knew she had to say it. ‘Go easy on the coke. It can make you forget that we’re all batting for the same team.’

  She was the only one who could have said it to him. If anyone else had offered him such advice, he would have told them to mind their own goddamned business. But deep down Brett knew that she was right. He’d been jumpy a lot lately. He could have punched Simon Scanlon’s lights out today, and it was all because of his own drug-induced paranoia. And the party last night. How the hell could he have done that to her?

  ‘I nearly blew it with you, didn’t I?’ He shook his head. ‘I must have been crazy. I’m really sorry.’

  ‘You’ve already said that.’ He looked like a worried little boy. He looked like Wily Halliday, she thought. Boyish and ingenuous. She smiled as she rose to her feet. ‘It’s over. Forgotten. Never happened.’

  He stood and hugged her. ‘We’re going to be great, you and me, Sam,’ he whispered in her ear, and this time there was no bravado, just relief.

  ‘Yes we are,’ she said, returning the hug.

  ‘So I was an eager puppy …’ His expression was quizzical as he held her at arm’s length. ‘You want to know my first impression of you?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I thought you were one helluva hot little number and I couldn’t wait to get you into the cot.’ He smiled and gave a helpless shrug. ‘So sue me, it’s the truth.’

  Sam laughed. He was incorrigible. He was brash, cheeky, and disarmingly honest. He was Wily Halliday.

  ‘Go to bed, Brett,’ she said pushing him to the door. ‘On your own!’

  ‘So you’re Mamma Black.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re not what I expected.’

  ‘Really? And what exactly did you expect?’

/>   ‘Well someone older, for a start. Someone … I don’t know … bigger, I guess. Hell, Mamma Black, what was I supposed to expect?’

  ‘What have you done to him?’ Simon whispered to Sam when they’d completed the first take. ‘No,’ he said, raising his hands in the air, ‘don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. Just keep doing what you’re doing, you’re a genius, Sam.’

  At the end of the day’s filming, Sam felt elated. Simon’s ‘genius’ tag might have been going a bit far, she thought, but he’d been right. Whatever she’d done to Brett had certainly been effective. Sarah and Wily had come alive that day and, all her qualms forgotten, she now looked forward to working with Brett Marsdon.

  As the Landcruiser pulled up at the hotel, she spied Nick Parslow waiting for them in the hotel reception area.

  ‘G’day, gang, how did it go?’ he asked, joining the actors as they piled out of the car.

  They walked into the hotel together, chatting animatedly, everyone having something to say about the day’s filming. Ten minutes later Mickey and Brett disappeared to shower before dinner.

  ‘Where the hell were you when I needed you?’ Sam demanded once she and Nick were alone. She had determined to say nothing in front of the others.

  ‘Oh really? Trouble?’ He looked concerned.

  ‘Nothing that hasn’t sorted itself out,’ she admitted, ‘but what a bugger of a time to desert me.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘The opening scene between me and Brett?’ she said, spelling it out.

  ‘I thought the timing was rather good myself,’ Nick replied, easing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he often did when he saw a confrontation coming. ‘If I’d been here I wouldn’t have come out on location anyway.’

  ‘Why on earth not?’

  ‘My presence on set wouldn’t have helped, Sam, I can read Brett’s antagonism a mile off. He doesn’t like me.’

  ‘That’s because he thinks you don’t like him.’

  ‘Really?’ Brett’s feelings were of little concern to Nick, but he was pleased that Sam was being protective of the American, it augured well for their working together. ‘So what happened?’