She's The One

by J. J. Murray

  Fish clicked over to see Bianca massaging Vincenzo. “Both our directors are asleep. Look at her triceps. Where were these women when I was growing up?”

  “It’s something in the air up here, I tell you.”

  Fish dialed down the volume entirely, left his command center, and stood in front of Walt. He handed him a piece of paper. “I had some time on my hands last night and wrote a song.”

  Walt read it to himself, eventually bopping his head back and forth. “This has a familiar rhythm.”

  “It’s to the tune of ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia.’ Want to hear it?”

  Walt smiled. “Don’t tell me you sing country.”

  Fish returned to his monitor, clicked his mouse, and Charlie Daniels Band music began playing. After the violin solo, Fish started to chant:

  “The diva flew into Canada lookin’ for a role to heal, she had lost her mind, she had a nice behind, she had signed a five-mil deal.

  She saw an Italian woodsman chopping wood and the boy was hot, so the diva jumped up on her tiger-striped broom and said,

  ‘Fonzi, let me tell you what.

  I guess you didn’t know it but I’m a sucker for some stew,

  and I’ll bet an Oscar of gold against your mule cuz I know I’m hotter than you.’

  The boy said, ‘My name’s Alessandro, and gosh I like to grin,

  I’m gonna take that bet, gonna make you wet, you know I’m gonna win.’

  Alessandro, you sharpen up your ax and don’t you drop your guard,

  cuz hell’s broke loose in Canada and the diva makes life hard.

  And if you win her heart you get a shiny band of gold,

  but if you lose the diva gets your mule …”

  Walt laughed more than clapped, nodding and snickering. “That’s … that’s really good, Fish.”

  Fish bowed. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

  “You and I should collaborate on something sometime,” Walt said. “Maybe something to run by Quentin Tarantino.”

  “Yeah?” Fish asked. “It’s because I’m warped, right?”

  Walt nodded. “You’re warped and witty, a wonderful combination for the cinema these days.” He pointed at Fish’s song. “We have to use that somewhere, like on the DVD.”

  “A music video,” Fish said. “We can do that.” He looked at four sleeping people on the screens. “We may have a few hours.” He went to his computer, clicking the keys. The monitors for the cabins winked out one by one until they were all blank. “I’m giving us a day off, anyway. Let’s make a video, Walt.”

  “Who are we going to get to sing this?” Walt asked.

  “Hey, man. I can sing. I sang in the choir and everything.”

  “Did they put you way in the back and away from the microphones?”

  Pietro pulled the bearskin up to Katharina’s neck and left the bed. He looked into his wardrobe for anything ancient-looking and came up with some ripped jeans, a solid-red flannel shirt, and a well-worn, frayed leather jacket with buttons instead of a zipper. He chose his grungiest boots over his moccasins and got dressed. His hair was too short to be an Indian’s, and his skin was too white for him to be anything but a Caucasian. Maybe he was just a Canadian drifter, an immigrant, just like the woman.

  All I have to do is move quickly and be a shadow tomorrow. Let the rest of them figure out what to do with me and my mysterious character after that.

  He looked back at Katharina, so sound asleep and almost purring. Yeah. She’s the one. The others didn’t move me, make my heart hurt, piss me off, or make my mind ache. She’s the one. The others were only dates on a calendar. This woman … this woman is the calendar. Fifteen years ago she cast a spell on me through the rearview mirror of a cab.

  Love is indeed a powerful spell.

  And I hope this spell never breaks.

  Katharina stirred and sat up. “How long have I been asleep?”

  Pietro posed for her. “A few hours. How do I look?”

  Katharina grabbed her knees. “Who are you supposed to be? Paul Bunyan?”

  Pietro spun around and shook his booty. “Not sure. An aimless drifter, perhaps.”

  “Drift over here.”

  Pietro drifted.

  She grabbed his coat and popped the top button. “A red shirt?”

  “Very Canadian. Like the Mounties.”

  Katharina raised her eyebrows. “You will be Mountieing me shortly.” She sighed. “This shirt is too bright and brazen. You’re supposed to be hiding from me, playing the bashful man-meat who is trying not to be seen. Find something dark.”

  Pietro smiled and caressed her cheeks with both of his hands.

  “Something dark to wear,” Katharina said.

  Pietro smiled and caressed Katharina’s shoulders. “I will wear you … out.”

  She removed his hands from her shoulders. “A dark shirt.” She pointed at a blue flannel shirt hanging in his wardrobe. “Put that one on.”

  He changed shirts. “Better?”

  Katharina shrugged and looked him up and down. “Those boots are as old as mine.”

  “They were my grandpa’s.”

  “They’ll do.” She licked her lips. “I might do you.”

  “I am flattered.”

  She stared at the coarse growth on his face. “The beard looks right, too.”

  Pietro felt his face. “I haven’t shaved today.”

  “Just one day? Man! Don’t shave in the morning, either. I want to be attacked by a grizzly man.” She stood on the bed, the bearskin leaving her body entirely. “That coat, though. Why not just wear the bearskin? I foresee a bearskin scene in my shelter later.”

  He caressed her sides and lingered on her hips. “I like your bare skin.”

  “Your paws are too big for my body,” she said. Along with that other thing.

  He pulled her to him. “And when you’re looking into the woods, you can think I’m a grizzly bear instead of a man.”

  Katharina unbuttoned his coat and threw it to the floor. “I am going to have so much trouble tomorrow.”

  “Why?”

  “I will be thinking some extremely nasty thoughts.” She unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it behind her. “And I will not be able to frown.” She grazed his chest with her fingers. “So, what is my shy forest lover going to bring me tomorrow?”

  Pietro kissed her ear. “Some dried meat, like beef jerky.”

  She let her hands drift to the crotch of his pants. “Is it beef?”

  He rose immediately to the occasion. “No. Dried bear and venison.”

  She felt for his zipper. “Oh. So I’m getting some dried meat from my shy forest lover. How romantic. And what else?” She zipped it down and reached inside. “Ooh. Beef.” USDA Prime beef.

  Pietro took several short breaths. “A fish of some kind. Probably a trout.”

  Katharina licked her lips slowly. “You nasty man.”

  Pietro put his hands on hers. “No, really. I’ll bring you a fish. You know how to clean it and cook it?”

  Katharina removed his pants entirely and peeled down his underwear. “I only know how to eat it.”

  Oh shit! “Well, first, you start at its, um, anus, and with the knife, you …” Oh, that feels good! “Katharina, are you listening?”

  Katharina paused in her labors, stretching her jaw. This was not a good idea. “Something about a fish’s anus. Not very romantic conversation when I’m working on you down here.”

  Pietro talked fast. “All you really have to do is start your cut there and rip it up for the headset cam.”

  Katharina flicked her tongue. “Sounds gross.”

  He looked down, anticipating her tongue. “It is.”

  Katharina slid her hand down his shaft. “Perfect.” She kissed the tip. “How do I cook it?”

  Pietro could hardly stand. “Just, um, just gut it and set it on your oven.” Her lips are so soft!

  Katharina looked up. “I wish you could wear the headset
while I do this.”

  “Why?”

  She stroked him slowly. “I don’t know. So maybe if I’m not around, you could watch it, relive it …” So I don’t have to do it again. Damn, he’s wide.

  “I … I don’t want you not to be around.”

  Katharina pulled him toward the bed. “Speak English.”

  Pietro lifted her legs over his shoulders. “You make me very happy, Miss Katharina.”

  “Thank you.” She guided him inside her. Wide is very good. “You make me very happy, too.”

  Pietro began to thrust. “And tomorrow, we are going to piss off a lot of people.”

  Katharina squeezed his booty. “I know. Isn’t it great?”

  After several takes, with Walt acting as cameraman, Fish gave up. “I can’t sing a lick, can I?”

  “But that’s what makes it so funny,” Walt said. “You think you can sing. It will be a hoot.”

  Fish flipped both backup switches, saw furious, X-rated action in both bedrooms, and snapped them off. “It’s like going on the Internet. I have got to get a girlfriend.”

  “A couple of couples,” Walt said, “and neither couple knows the other couple is, um, coupling.”

  “Do you stay up late thinking up stuff like that?” Fish asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I just think of the coupling part.”

  Walt sighed. “You know, it would be next to impossible to sell any of this to another studio.”

  “It would? How do you figure? This is fantastic stuff!”

  Walt nodded. “It’s too fantastic. It’s practically unbelievable. A diva disguised as a runaway slave transforms into one and falls in love with a former extra actor disguised as a handyman who hates, and then gets handy with, the former diva.”

  “I … won’t ask you to repeat that.”

  “Add a diva’s assistant turned amazing actress who becomes a fake director’s howling love interest. Add a batch of secrets and the Greek chorus—that’s us—commenting on the action, and you have the ultimate myth. I couldn’t make up any of this stuff in a million years.”

  Fish shook his head. “We’re not the chorus, Walt. We’re the gods.” Fish stared at the backup switches. “Makes me feel powerful, you know, being able to zoom into and out of their lives whenever I feel like it. I’m God zooming in on His creation from every possible angle.”

  “You won’t be watching them tonight, right?”

  Fish laughed softly. “Of course not. I’m giving them their privacy.”

  “And they have a right to that privacy, Fish. I’ve known Pietro and Vincenzo for close to twenty years, and for the first time, they’re both content, happy, and alive. What those four people are sharing shouldn’t be sullied by our intrusion.”

  Fish nodded. “So, when are we gonna tell ’em what’s really going on when the lights go out?” He looked outside. “Or during the day when the cabin doors are closed? Don’t they ever get tired?”

  “We’re not going to tell anyone anything. We’re going to act as if nothing is going on other than the making of a movie.”

  Fish grabbed his song lyrics. “I’d like to try this again, only this time, you’re going to use a tripod. The last take bounced all over the place. Anyone watching would get motion sickness.”

  “Don’t make me laugh, then!”

  “You weren’t laughing, Walt. You were cringing. I could tell. No cringing this time.”

  “Only if you just mouth the words …”

  Chapter 38

  The next morning, Fish powered up his command center and watched all of the monitors come to life. It must be warmer today, he thought. Either that or … Naw. Pietro wouldn’t have done that.

  Hmm. He might have done that. It’s something I would do if I wanted some privacy.

  He shook off his doubts and turned on the backups. He saw two forms under the covers in Katharina’s bedroom, and two oversexed maniacs going at it again in Vincenzo’s bedroom. He heard a creak on the stairs and quickly shut off the backups.

  “All cameras are up and running, Walt,” he said, spinning in his chair. “No action.”

  “Really?” Walt said. “No action of any kind?”

  Fish knew he was busted. “Okay, already. Katharina and Pietro are spooning under the covers, and Vincenzo and Bianca are forking like wolves in heat. I think they’re trying to make little wolf puppies.”

  Something Fish said nagged at Walt, but he couldn’t figure out what. “Say all that again.”

  “Katharina and Pietro are spooning, and Vincenzo and Bianca are forking.”

  “No, you said something else. Show me Katharina and Pietro.”

  Fish flipped his backup. “See, they’re spooning under the covers.”

  Walt snapped his fingers. “That’s what you said. They’re under the covers. They’re rarely under the covers, Fish. They’re usually on top of the—”

  “Jesus!” Fish screamed, interrupting Walt. “Did you see the size of that bear?”

  Something bearlike flashed from tree to tree near the clearing.

  “Oh my God!” Walt cried. “Katharina’s in the clearing!” He pointed a trembling hand at the big screen. “The bear is coming for her!”

  Fish started laughing, muttering, “Oh, he got us good, so good.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Walt cried. “We have to save her!”

  Fish typed a few commands until the “bear” appeared on the big screen. “We’ve been had, Walt.”

  Walt turned and saw Pietro facing a tree camera, the bearskin draped over his shoulders.

  Pietro winked and put his finger to his lips. “It’s showtime, fellas,” Pietro whispered. “I hope you’re ready. Oh, and you might want to wake Vincenzo. He’s just going to love this.”

  Katharina again tried to build her shelter by pounding a few poles with her rock, but she gave up and began wailing. She placed her headset in the direction of the woods to her right and ran crying into the woods, sitting against a tree with her back to the camera, her body shaking with sobs.

  Fish switched over to the feed from the headset. “That’s a good idea, Katharina! Zooming in for a close-up of her crying.”

  “What’s going on, Fish?”

  “The movie has just taken a decided turn for the better, as they say,” Fish said. “Watch Pietro, the Italian Indian.”

  Pietro sneaked from tree to tree until he was within a few feet of the clearing. He dashed to the headset, put it on, and ran to the creek, bringing several large, flat rocks up to the clearing. He hastily laid them down, one on top of the other. He made several trips in silence, the only sound the rushing of the stream.

  “He’s building her a foundation,” Walt said.

  After Pietro had several levels built on one side of her fire pit, he set strings of dried meat and a fish on top of her oven.

  “Wake Vincenzo now,” Fish said.

  “Wait,” Walt said. “I don’t want the director to ruin this shot.”

  Pietro “saw” Katharina turn, dropped the headset pointed in his direction, and scampered off into the woods.

  Katharina returned, put on the headset, and stared down at the meat and the fish. She looked around the clearing, whispering, “Lord Jesus, if this ain’t manna from Heaven.” She “noticed” the stack of stones. She “saw” glimpses of Pietro leaping from tree to tree. She tore off a strip of the meat and tasted it. She withdrew her knife, grabbed the fish, and gutted it from its anus to its gills.

  “Holy shit!” Fish cried.

  “This is fantastic!” Walt cried. “I’m going to be sick, but this is fantastic!” He pressed the squawk button on the transmitter. “Vincenzo, you have to see what’s happening!”

  Ten seconds passed before Vincenzo answered. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

  Walt nodded at Fish, and Fish flipped one of the backups, revealing Vincenzo and Bianca making wolf puppies near their back window, Vincenzo holding the walkie-talkie with his neck.

  �
��I’m sure you are, Vincenzo,” Walt said, “but you have to come out to the clearing. Pietro is dressed as a native and is helping Katharina build her shelter. She just gutted a fish, and it was awesome!”

  “What?”

  Fish mouthed, “Let me.”

  Walt nodded.

  “Vincenzo, this is Fish. You didn’t know about this? This isn’t something you and Pietro cooked up without telling any of us?” He grinned when he saw Vincenzo stop thrusting. “They’re just rehearsing now, I think. You have to get out there and get some wide shots and close-ups of both of them in action.”

  “He’s right, Vinnie,” Walt said. “This is golden. You know second takes are crap. This is spontaneous.”

  Bianca reached behind her, but Vincenzo was backing away. “You’ve got it covered, right?” Vincenzo asked.

  “Well, yeah,” Fish said, “but we can’t get the same close-ups as you can. Get out there, man!”

  Bianca tackled Vincenzo, pinning him to the bed.

  “I’ll be there in …” Vincenzo said. “An hour. I’m busy.”

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Vincenzo,” Walt said, “but you must give Bianca a rest and get your ass over there and start filming.” He clicked off the transmitter.

  Fish blinked. “You just practically told him …”

  “He’ll know soon enough,” Walt said. “What’s Katharina doing?”

  “Defending herself, by the looks of that pointed stick, the knife, and that hatchet.”

  Katharina’s headset moved side to side as Pietro flitted from tree to tree.

  “Don’t you come any closer or I’ll gig you, I swear!” Katharina yelled. “I’m warnin’ you.”

  Pietro raced in with a dead squirrel, dumped it, and ran away.

  Katharina blinked. She was genuinely confused. This wasn’t in our little script. What am I supposed to do with this rodent? “Lord, more manna from Heaven,” she said. She looked into the woods, hoping to see Pietro. “I’m a Christian woman, y’hear?” she yelled. “I don’t truck with no heathens!” She kept looking until she saw Pietro pantomiming the gutting of a squirrel.