Chapter Seven
Willa followed Brodie into the marquee and put a hand on his arm. “Just hear me out. The major is impossible to deal with. You disagreed with him all day—”
“Hardly all day.” He shrugged off her hand and rifled through a pile of papers until he found a well-thumbed script. “Got it.”
“On every key point. Look, having him on set will be bad for morale. And he’ll undermine your authority if he keeps telling you the army doesn’t do it that way. What does he know about our work? Nothing.”
“Just because he didn’t fawn all over you after the rushes doesn’t mean he wasn’t affected by what he saw.”
“Yeah, right. He was so affected he was speechless. I’m not an idiot, Brodie. The man hates actors and everything to do with our business.” He’d made that plain more than ten years ago when he’d tried to talk her out of going to acting school. His performance yesterday was the final straw. She wouldn’t care anymore. And if Brodie would only fire Jax, she’d be able to concentrate on making the miniseries instead of tensing up every time he approached Brodie.
“I’m sorry I ever suggested using someone local. I’d forgotten just how anti-acting Jax is. Guess absence had dulled my memory when I suggested him to you.”
Brodie pinned her with the direct look he used when he knew he was right. “Willa, you are no idiot but you can be incredibly blind. The major didn’t take his eyes off you. He may not like actors, but the chemistry between the pair of you sizzles!”
“There’s no chemistry. There is nothing between us.” Not strictly true, but she wouldn’t count the anger racing through her. Or the stupid hurt that had surfaced again.
“If that’s the case I know nothing about what makes great cinema.”
“Please, Brodie?”
“Willa, if I could convince him to come in front of the camera opposite you, I could retire a rich man. One love scene and you’d rip up every box office record—ever.”
“If I said I don’t want him on set, would you listen?”
“No.” Brodie turned his back on Willa and gathered his tools of trade. Each item had its own pocket in his cargo pants, which never varied. She’d watched him go through this morning ritual dozens of times but today it annoyed her.
Because she couldn’t convince him to fire Jax?
Come on, Willa. You’re an actress. Sell him on the idea.
“There’s a young corporal in Cloncurry. We drove out from Townsville with him. What if I could convince the Army PR people to replace the major with Dave Preston?”
Pity flashed across Brodie’s face as he clipped the final item into its pocket. “Heathwood stays. He’ll give me the straight, unvarnished truth. I don’t care if he disagrees with details. And honestly, you might want to take another look at the major. Give him a chance. Frankly, I can’t wait to see what happens when the two of you work together. Now get your cute little ass over to makeup. I want you on set in thirty minutes.”
Willa spun on her heel and strode across to the van where Suzie waited, a palette of earth colours clutched in her hand.
As soon as Willa was in the chair with a coverall over her costume, Suzie set to work.
Willa’s mind whirled through the director’s comments. Surely Brodie wouldn’t require Jax’s input for the scene in the raiders’ camp? One day without his looming presence and palpable dislike of what she did wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
Seconds passed and Suzie’s quick movements slowed, then stopped. A frown puckered her brow and she stepped back. “Gosh, you’re tense, Willa. Get out on the wrong side of bed, did you?”
Willa stared at the makeup artist. “Pardon?”
“I can’t get the shading right while you’re all but grinding your teeth. I work my magic on a still canvas. Can you unclench your teeth for me?”
“Sorry, Suzie.” With a conscious effort, Willa went through a series of mental exercises to calm and focus her mind on the day’s shoot.
“Finished. Willa?”
“Thanks. Sorry I was preoccupied.” She pushed the coverall aside and stood in front of the mirror. “Great job as always.”
“No problem. Um—if you need something to relax you, I’ve got—”
“I’ll be fine. Like you said, I didn’t sleep well. Maybe that will make today’s shoot look authentic.” Willa squeezed Suzie’s hand and left the van. She didn’t want to know what Suzie used to relax, but she suspected it grew in pots under lights.
Laurie caught up with her as she headed for the camp setting. “Hey, slow up. Phew, you are one fit woman.”
“I’m late. Had to talk to Brodie.”
Laurie checked the time. “Two minutes left and Brodie’s still in his van. What did you have to see him about?”
“Nothing important.” She’d had enough of Brodie’s insights into Jax to last the rest of her life without listening to Laurie’s take on the major as well.
“Would it have anything to do with a certain advisor?”
“What?”
Laurie pointed with her pen towards two mismatched tents, a hive of activity as the technical crew checked the set.
Willa came to an abrupt standstill and her friend walked several steps ahead before she realised she was talking to thin air.
Jax was easy to spot. Taller than the actors who surrounded him, it was more than his height that drew her gaze. He had presence that commanded attention and respect, no matter who he was speaking to.
She was too far to hear what they said but suddenly the group sat in a ragged circle around the campfire. Jax occupied her position, an arm resting on his upright knee. It was the opening of the scene they were to shoot. Behind him, a pile of prop guns leaned against one another.
Thommo raised an arm, holding it aloft for a handful of seconds before dropping it and thumping the ground. “Ka-boom!”
A puff of dirt rose around his hand and suddenly Jax broke from the group. He raced past the stack and grabbed a gun, priming it as he ran.
She didn’t recognise the man-machine running to the top of the slope behind the tents, throwing himself on the ground and firing in one smooth, swift movement. He was lethal poetry-in-motion. Jax wasn’t acting—he was simply, the Soldier.
Willa blinked. As though that would clear the image from her mind. She’d never seen Jax like this. So—primitive. She pressed both hands to her stomach. Was that a flutter of fear . . . or grudging admiration?
Laurie nudged Willa’s arm. “Just—wow! Honey, if you don’t feel something when you look at a man like that, you’re not human.”
“All yours, Laurie. I’m not interested.” If she told herself that often enough, she might come to believe it. Because, despite all her efforts to put Jax out of her mind and out of her life, lack of interest in him was a lie. If anything she had an oversupply of hormones zinging through her veins when he was near.
And therein lay her problem.
If only Brodie would listen to her plea to remove Jax from the set.
“Besides, he’s a soldier and you know how I feel about guns.”
“Yeah. You’re the only person I know back home who won’t carry one. Weird.”
“If you carry a gun, doesn’t that mean you’re prepared to use it on someone?” The thought left Willa cold. The only shooting she ever wanted to do was with her SLR camera. Living in LA hadn’t changed her views, nor had the previous conversations on the topic. Her gaze was drawn back to Jax.
He’d slung the prop gun across his back and hooked his hands over either end in a gesture that looked entirely too natural. As he walked back to the group of actors, there was no sign of the limp that had affected him last night.
Laurie shrugged and hugged her clipboard to her ample chest. “In theory. So far, the only place I’ve used mine is the practice range. Did I tell you, I got four bullseyes at my last shoot? I’m now officially female club champion.”
Willa struggled to recall what they’d been talking about. Laurie’s brigh
t smile and a vague recollection of hearing bullseye brought her back to the conversation. “Don’t get me wrong, Laurie. I reckon that’s impressive and well done to you. I just don’t like guns.”
The women stood shoulder to shoulder and Willa’s gaze returned to Jax. Like a magnet, he drew her attention.
“Who’d want to be protected from a hunk like him?”
“True. He looks intimidating enough without a gun in his hands.” Willa sighed. Having Jax on set was entirely too distracting.
Laurie nudged her. “That isn’t what I meant. No woman in her right mind would want to protect herself from him. I’d throw my gun away if he was my boyfriend.”
“Go for it, Laurie.”
“Places, everybody.” Brodie had appeared on set and taken his spot beside number one camera while Willa’s attention had been fixed on Jax.
Brodie beckoned her over and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Willa, did you see Jax’s demo? That’s what I want from you. Energy. Smooth, fluid movement, explosive speed, focus. Got it?”
So much for not needing Jax on set for the camp scene. She gritted her teeth and eyed off the slope.
Jax slithered the last couple of metres and deposited the prop gun back with the others, forming a stack like in the old Westerns her dad liked to watch on holidays. He dusted off his trousers and strolled towards Willa.
“Got it.” She didn’t wait for Jax; didn’t want to hear any more of his, that’s how it’s done comments. She headed off at a tangent and sat in the group of actors circled around the campfire. Acknowledging Jax was out of the question; she couldn’t look at him until her composure returned.
Or she found the delete button for her memories.
“Um, Miss Raynolds, that’s my spot you’re in.” Auburn-haired Sharkey stood in front of her, looking a little awkward. “I don’t mind trading places if you want, but Brodie said—”
“Of course, sorry, Sharkey.” Struggling to raise a smile, she pushed to her feet and moved to her assigned place. From here, she had to launch herself at the pile of guns, then attempt to recreate Jax’s run. She eyed off the slope.
“Are you okay?” Thommo leaned close and spoke softly. He had worked with her on a couple of short films before the American series had catapulted her to stardom, and knew her better than the other cast members. One rather drunk night, she’d even shared her lousy relationship history with him over a couple of bottles of cheap wine.
She hadn’t mentioned Jax by name but a horrible thought struck her. Had she said anything that would clue Thommo in to the identity of her bike-crazy boyfriend?
“Lousy sleep last night. I’m a bit foggy this morning.”
“I’ll give you a nudge if you doze off.”
Once Brodie was happy with the angles and the tech crew were in position he called, “Action.”
Willa’s first attempt at grabbing a gun as she ran past the stack was a miss; her second attempt was even worse. As she reached lower to ensure she didn’t miss the barrel, the remaining guns crashed and she tripped, face-planting in the dirt.
She rolled over and sat up, spitting dust. A large hand appeared in front of her.
Jax. Of course he’d be there to see her pitiful performance. Determined to refuse his help, she scrambled to her knees before he took hold of her hand anyway and pulled. She stumbled against him.
“You meant to do that, didn’t you?”
“Help you up? Of course. The problem is the way you’re grabbing the gun. And your timing. What you need to do is—”
“I don’t need to be told how to pick something up.”
“Clearly, you do. The pile is balanced just so, like that game with the mini-coloured knitting needles your mum used to let us play. Removing one without moving the pile can only be done slowly and with care.”
“Fiddlesticks.”
“That’s the one. If you want to go fast like this scene calls for, Thommo needs to be right beside you, and as you lay a hand on your gun, he grabs the others.
“Like this. Here, Thommo, come with me.” They resumed their seats, Jax sitting where Willa had been. “We go, on the count of three.”
Smooth as a team that had worked together for ages, Thommo followed as Jax surged to his feet and neatly extricated one gun, running a few paces before he turned and met Willa’s gaze. “Like that. Did you see how Thommo was only a split second behind me?”
“Yes.” Truth to tell, her eyes had been on Jax alone but she wasn’t about to tell him that.
“Okay, so walk it through slowly this time.”
It worked. Of course it worked. Jax knew precisely what to do with his body at all times.
Leaning into a corner on his motorbike or lying with her beside a campfire—images that fired her already overheated blood. Clamping a lid on them, she watched as Jax powered up the slope and dived into a shooting position in a flowing move that made his occasional limping gait even more strange now she thought about it. Jax was never unbalanced.
Mercilessly he drilled her in the sequence—grab, run, drop, fire—until her thigh muscles screamed, and she was a sweaty, dirty mess. He, on the other hand, had barely raised a sweat.
Finally he gave her the thumbs up for her technique. “You’ll be fine, Willa.” He moved over to stand beside Brodie and folded his arms across his chest.
Willa wiped her forehead with her arm and blinked away the droplets that rolled down her face and made her khaki shirt stick to her skin.
Suzie raced up with her makeup kit and Willa exerted all her self-discipline as the makeup artist began blotting her face. It was water she craved, not more layers of face powder. Tentatively, she touched her tongue to dry lips, tasting dust.
“Lordy, Willa, you need a complete makeover, not just a touch up job.” Suzie’s hands were a blur as they flew across and around Willa’s face, pressing, stroking, and blending colours.
Brodie strolled up and chugged half the bottle of water in his hand. “Natural sweat—now that’s something you don’t often see on an actor. Let’s go with the authentic look, Suzie.” As he gestured vaguely in her direction, drops of water flicked onto her heated skin and dried off almost immediately.
Glancing around, she noted most attention was focused on her and Brodie. All she wanted was a water break in the shade but the rest of the cast and crew had been standing idly by as Jax rehearsed her moves. Holding them up any longer because she was off her game would be inexcusable.
“Done. Just as well Brodie’s happy with the authentic look because you’re sweating like a—”
“I get it, Suzie. Thanks.” She made her way over and joined the actors around the campfire before turning to Brodie. “All set.”
Brodie tossed her a quick grin of approval before heading for his place beside the camera. “Places, everyone—” A mad scramble followed as Brodie checked the shot once more. “And action.”
The scene played out flawlessly, no thanks to her. Jax’s simple choreography kept it neat and flowing. Now maybe she could score a litre or three of water. Her throat was drier than a gibber plain, and about as rough. She coughed and tried for a confident tone of voice.
“How was that, Brodie?” Willa crossed her fingers they’d got it in a single take.
“Willa, we’ll go for another take. Camera one had a problem.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Sweat prickled in her hair and gathered under her arms from the multiple practices Jax had demanded and the take itself.
The sun beat down, washing out most colours in the red and ochre landscape until it resembled a dot painting. Or maybe the dots were only in her eyes. Haze shimmered across the far stretch of sand, creating a silvery mirage.
Water.
As she opened her mouth to tell the director she needed a break, Jax stepped up beside him and spoke. Brodie looked across at her, and nodded at Jax.
“Take fifteen minutes break, everyone, back in fifteen.” Brodie joined the cameraman, and cast and crew sought shade under t
he makeshift canvas shelter.
As Willa stumbled into the shelter, Jax unscrewed the cap and held out a bottle of water. “Here. Drink.”
“Do you ever stop giving orders?”
Condensation dripped from the bottle, falling into the sandy soil. Eyeing off the water, she debated arguing with him.
“You’ve just put in an hour of physically demanding work in desert heat. You’re covered in sweat, swaying and I’m concerned for your well-being. Drink the water, Willa.”
Implacable as ever, Jax stood in her path, compelling her through sheer force of personality. Then again, why was she worried about his arrogance when she could barely work up enough moisture in her mouth to speak?
Gratefully, she took the bottle and drank, uncaring as water spilled over her chin and down her chest. And before she realised what Jax was doing, she was seated in a quiet corner with an icepack on the back of her neck, and halfway through a second bottle of water.
Gradually her overheated body cooled, icy water ran down her back from the ice pack on her neck and her pixelated view of the world merged into normal mode. Aware of being watched, she looked up. Jax was chatting with Thommo but his gaze kept slipping sideways. To her.
As their gazes connected, Jax excused himself and took the seat beside her. “Feeling better now?”
“Yes. Thanks for getting Brodie to call a break.”
“He should have been more observant and seen for himself that you needed one.” A flash of anger flared in Jax’s gaze before his inscrutable expression fell back into place.
Once upon a time she had been able to make Jax express his emotions freely.
“Production schedules don’t allow for much flexibility. I should have been on top of that sequence of moves before we came on set but I had no idea how tricky grabbing a prop on the run could be. In the old Westerns Dad loves to watch, it always looks so easy.”
“Real life is never as easy as it looks on screen.”
There it was again. Antipathy for what she did. Was their every conversation destined to cover the same ground, and remind her of the fundamental differences that had split them ten years ago?
Winds of Change (Hearts of the Outback Book 4) Page 5
