by Julie Caplin
Crossing to the sliding doors, she opened them and stepped out into the warm spring air. Sunlight poured over her and automatically she lifted her face to it, closing her eyes and taking in a few easy breaths. Oh, this was heaven. Finally opening her eyes, she stepped to the edge of the balcony and took in the view. Below her, stretching the entire length of the hotel, was a very pretty garden. From here she could identify a selection of acers with their delicately shaped leaves in varying shades of greens and yellows as well as several cherry trees which had yet to blossom and her favourites, the frothy blue-green fronds of the Japanese red cedar. Her eyes tracked the pale grey gravel paths threading through the trees with sure purpose, bordered here and there with big, sturdy, dark glazed pots, each one holding a bonsai. She could make out the low gurgle of water and followed the sound to a water feature, a small waterfall tumbling down over rocks that then flowed through the garden ending in a small pond overlooked by a red wooden bench.
She took in a deep breath and focused on one of the nearby cedars, remembering her visit to Haruka’s beautiful garden. Already her mood had lifted and, now she thought about it, she realised that the pinching tension in her shoulders had floated away. With a smile she relaxed and let herself breathe in the fresh air as she leant against the balcony railing. The scent of cedar filled her nose. It was green and fresh and bright and as she took in another few deep breaths, remembering what Haruka had said, she wondered if perhaps she should send a quick text to Gabe and tell him to take some time out with nature. In the meantime, she wasn’t going to hurry; she was going take her time and smell the proverbial roses for a while. She pulled up one of the chairs on the balcony and settled into it. Sod Gabe Burnett and his mercurial moods.
***
A zen-like calm carried her up to the top floor in the lift and down the corridor to the suite. It even survived the first few seconds of Gabe pacing like a tiger around the enormous room, which was something else. It was vast – her whole house could have fit in here. The three enormous sofas didn’t even make a dent in the bright airy space.
Gabe was surveying the room with hooded eyes in a business-like manner, swivelling around to assess each corner of the room. He squinted at the light pouring in through the window and without acknowledging her arrival, suddenly stalked forward to toy with the blinds, his brow crinkling in thoughtful contemplation. He paced a few steps back and then turned and began to tug one of the three huge sofas to a different angle. Fiona stood like a spare part, her arms limply by her sides, and then, spurred on by instinct alone, she strode over to him, grabbed his shoulders and frog marched him over to the glass doors leading out onto the balcony.
‘Go and stand out there and take a couple of deep breaths,’ she commanded, sliding the balcony doors open and shoving him through. She’d clearly caught him on the hop because he stood there totally bemused for a second. ‘Breathe.’
With a puzzled frown, he walked over to the balcony railing and looked out over the garden.
‘Give yourself a few minutes.’ Behind his back she pulled a face, pleased with her uncharacteristic assertiveness.
They stood in silence and she watched him as he leaned on the top rail, both elbows resting on the black metal.
Presently he straightened and uttered a brief, ‘Thanks,’ then walked back into the hotel room.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ she asked.
It took a moment for him to respond, almost as if he hadn’t heard. ‘Sorry?’
‘Can I do anything?’
He frowned as if she’d asked a tricky question before saying with sudden animation, ‘Yes, come and sit here.’
As she approached the sofa, he grasped her shoulders and firmly guided her into position, so that she sat at a slight right-angle.
‘Turn your face towards the window. No, not so far.’ He stood back and then stepped forward again, his hands taking her chin and moving it a touch back. She lifted her eyes, careful to stay still and not flinch from the tingle his touch left.
‘No, don’t look up at me.’ His hand took her chin again turning it just so. ‘There. Now lean back against the seat and drape your arm along the back, bend your knees and turn your legs to your left. That’s it. Now don’t move.’
At first she’d been too bemused to realise what he was doing but as soon as he picked up his camera, every tendon went into defence mode, tensing up and tugging at her muscles. Despite the desperate urge to escape, paralysis had set in and she couldn’t move.
Gabe began rummaging through his camera bag as she sat in the plume of light coming in through the window, consumed by how much she hated this. She watched as he muttered to himself, pulling faces as he set up his camera, dreading the moment he’d start taking pictures.
When he finally swung round, he scowled. ‘Relax,’ he snapped certainly not practising what he preached. ‘I’m not interested in taking pictures of you. It’s for the light and you’re probably about the same build as Ken. It will save some time when he gets here. I want to try out a few positions.’
Fiona flinched and swallowed hard. Bastard. It was one thing knowing you were statuesque – that was the kind way of saying it, although her mother tended to use the phrase ‘big and broad of beam’ – but she didn’t need Gabe pointing it out. She had enough of that at home. It was crap when your mother was half the size of one of your thighs and delighted in clinking her gold bracelets on her teeny tiny wrists and comparing them to Fiona’s tree trunk arms. And she was fed up with feeling crap. She was doing Gabe a favour here.
‘How the hell am I supposed to relax with you glaring at me like that? I don’t have to do this, you know.’ Angrily, she rearranged her limbs, glaring back at him, and eased her body back into the sofa.
Gabe didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to her hissy fit, instead he ran his eyes over her body as impassively as if she were a piece of furniture.
‘Right, think about the shot you took this morning. The man in black next to the train.’
Seriously? Fiona’s anger seeped away at his total indifference. Being angry with him was pointless; he was in work mode. She huffed out a sigh and focused on the moment she’d taken the picture. Unconsciously, her mouth curved as she recalled the intense pleasure when she’d seen the shot in the viewfinder. Without thinking, she lifted her chin slightly. It was a damn good shot, although she was nonplussed by Gabe mentioning it; at the time he hadn’t seemed to register it or even been that impressed. He was a conundrum but fascinating to watch working. She really was nothing but a job to him.
Click, click. Gabe snapped away, hidden behind his camera before finally saying.
‘Good. Right, now could you turn and face me, put both elbows on your knees and support your chin in your hands and look straight at the camera. I want to see where the shadows will fall.’
Pursing her lips with resignation, she changed her pose, tempted to point out that the sun would have moved by the time the actor arrived but Gabe was in the zone. She didn’t need to feel self-conscious any more – he was oblivious to her. For the next few minutes, he tweaked and changed her sitting position, not saying a word to her apart from the brusque instructions.
Then he came out from behind the camera and studied her impassively, his lips twitching and his eyes sharp and completely focused on her. She wanted to shrink away from the intense gaze; it was as if he could see all the way through her but at the same time didn’t see her at all.
With narrowed eyes, holding the camera in one hand, he nodded with his head to the opposite end of the sofa. ‘I want you to lie full length on the sofa. Your head that end.’
She glanced uncertainly to where he indicated but he gave an impatient nod. ‘Stretch out and undo your hair.’
‘My hair?’
He nodded, lowered the camera, and before she could lift a hand to her plait, he had already tugged the elastic tie from the tufted end. With one hand he began to snag his fingers through the braid, loosening and freeing her h
air. Impatiently, he suddenly dropped the camera on the sofa beside her and used both hands to push her hair away from her face, his fingers sliding into her scalp and his thumbs smoothing across her cheekbones. The touch ignited a shower of fireworks in her chest and she took in a sharp breath. It sounded horribly loud in the quiet hum of the room. The hands on her face stilled, although one thumb continued to graze her cheek bone as he stared down into her startled eyes, holding her gaze. His mouth softened into a gentle smile. ‘You have beautiful hair, Fi.’ His husky tone stirred a kick to her heart. ‘Beautiful.’
For a crazy moment – crazy given she’d been here once before and got it oh so wrong – she honestly thought he was going to kiss her. And dumb as it was, she couldn’t help parting her lips in hopeless, helpless anticipation.
Then as if he’d pulled himself together, he pushed the heavy weight of her hair over her shoulders and took a step back, all business again. ‘I want you to lie back, your head resting on the arm, so that your hair drapes over the arm and down. Like a waterfall.’
The moment evaporated and she blinked, taking a second to process his words.
‘Why?’
‘Because I want to see what it looks like,’ he said, as if it were totally obvious and she was being obtuse.
As she started to move he snatched the camera back up.
‘Okay,’ she said, still slightly dazed and lifted her arms to push up her hair. Even before she moved into position he was snapping away.
‘Right. Lie down. That’s it.’
‘Lie down?’
At his emphatic nod, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, she did as she was told, even though she felt a bit silly lying full length on the sofa and a lot puzzled. What was this in aid of? Did the film star have particularly long hair? Had he grown it for a role? She arranged her hair over the arm and Gabe danced forwarded, smoothing it one handed into place.
‘That’s lovely. Now lift one leg, bend it at the knee and use the other foot to tease off your shoe.’ She raised her head in protest.
‘No. No. Stay there. Now close your eyes and dream of something nice.’
Closing her eyes made her feel vulnerable and she could feel herself stiffening up again.
‘Or wasabi Kit-Kats.’
She laughed, relaxing as she did. ‘That isn’t something nice.’
‘Made you smile though.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Think about your favourite thing since you’ve come to Japan.’
With her eyes closed it was simple to sift through the memories of the last few days and easy to settle upon the memory of sitting in the garden with Haruka and Setsuko.
‘Now, I’m going to have to ask, you look very happy—No, don’t open your eyes. Stay there, wherever you’re thinking of. That’s perfect.’
‘Haruka’s garden. Tree bathing.’ She shot him a smug grin. ‘Be honest, you felt better after I took you out on the balcony. After you communed with nature for a few minutes.’ She thought he might deny it but instead he tilted his head to one side and nodded.
‘Point taken. Thank you. I was a bit wound up. This is an important job. Have you taken any pictures of Haruka’s garden yet?’
‘Funnily enough, no.’ It was something she ought to rectify.
‘Now lift a hand behind your head and stroke along the length of your hair. Feel the silkiness of it.’
Busy thinking about how she might approach taking pictures of the garden, Fiona complied, remembering the acer leaves dancing in the slight breeze and the soft sway of the cherry tree branches.
‘Excellent. That’s it. Thank you, that’s really helpful.’
She came to with a start and sat up hurriedly, frowning. Gabe had his back to her and was fiddling about with a different camera. ‘Are you really going to get him to lie down like that?’
Gabe turned around, his eyes sliding to the window, a rather too innocent smile on his face. It was the sort of expression you’d find on the face of a boy caught with his hand in the biscuit jar.
‘No. Sorry. As soon as you lay down, I realised the light was all wrong.’
‘You could have said something earlier.’ Fiona now felt a little foolish.
‘You know photographers. Keep flogging a dead horse. I thought if I changed angles … it might … but nothing worked. Thanks for your help though.’
She eyed him suspiciously. ‘You are going to delete all those shots … aren’t you?’
‘Of course,’ he said airily and a shade too quickly before he went back to flicking through the shots he’d taken, nodding and running a hand over his mouth at periodic intervals as he weighed up the pictures.
‘Promise?’ Was she being ridiculously being paranoid? After all, why would Gabe want to keep pictures of her?
***
When the actor and a huge entourage arrived, the room suddenly filled up and there was an awful lot of bowing. Thankfully everyone spoke English and there was a flurry of introductions from the publicity girl from the film company, an uber-fashionable, strident young woman in cream, wide-legged culottes, blood-red loafers, ankle socks and a deconstructed square T-shirt. Fiona nodded and bowed as she was introduced to the make-up artist, her assistant, Ken’s agent, the agent’s assistant and a stylist along with her assistant pulling a wardrobe rail holding at least six suits and an extensive selection of casual wear.
Fiona widened her eyes at the sight of all the extra people and turned to Gabe who simply rolled his eyes, ignored everyone and strode straight over to Ken.
‘Hi Ken. Good to see you again.’
‘Gabriel. Good to be here.’ After a quick bow, they shook hands, firm and manly with a definite touch of familiarity. It was easy to see that the two men liked and respected each other.
Ken was wearing a mid-blue suit which had that sort of fluidity and silkiness that suggested it was extremely expensive and, as Gabe had predicted, he was a man completely at home in his own skin.
‘Right, let’s get started,’ said Gabe while the entourage was still fussing and arranging themselves – the make-up girl setting up her brushes and various pots on the console table on the side, the stylists flicking through the hangers on the rail while the agent and his assistant whispered to each other.
‘I’d like you to sit here.’ Gabe led him over to the sofa.
One of the stylists darted forward, holding a suit on a hanger in each hand, and spoke in a torrent of Japanese. Ken shook his head, stroked his fingers down at his own suit and shook his head again. Her face crumpled in disappointment but Ken smiled.
Ken spoke, calm and unhurried, and Fiona guessed that he was saying he was fine. With a mutinous expression on her face, the stylist and her assistant returned the suits to the rail.
With a brush full of powder, one of the make-up artists advanced and Fiona winced, seeing the implacable glint in the actor’s eye.
Gabe held up his hand. ‘We’re taking a few test shots,’ he said placatingly. ‘Getting the positions set up and the light and then we’ll see how we get on.’ Fiona caught the wink he sent to Ken.
Ken nodded and spoke to the entourage who all stopped twittering and flapping. Whatever he said had clearly eased their minds.
‘Tell you what,’ said Gabe ‘why doesn’t everyone take a break, while we get set up?’
Ken translated and ushered everyone to the door.
Fiona’s mouth twitched as she realised that the two men had cleared the room with the minimum of fuss.
‘Phew, that’s better,’ said Gabe. ‘I can hear myself think. We might be able to get done in half an hour, Ken.’
‘Good. Very good.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘And who is this?’
‘This is my new assistant, Fiona. And she’ll be no trouble.’
‘I didn’t think she would be, Gabe.’ He turned to Fiona, with a polite nod. ‘He wouldn’t allow it. Now, where do you want me?’
Following Gabe’s instructions, Ken reclined back against the sofa in exactly
the same position that Fiona had been just forty minutes ago. But when it came to the shot with him leaning forward, elbows on his knees looking directly into the camera, Fiona could feel Gabe’s sudden excitement; it was as if a creative buzz fluttered across his skin.
Gabe moved the light reflector to a new position and asked Fiona to hold it up a fraction, pushing the light onto the actor’s very handsome face. Ken flashed a warm smile at her and she smiled shyly back. Gabe was right – he had presence and that indefinable charisma.
‘Nice. Keep smiling at Fi. Pretend she’s one of your legion of fans. Even though she’d never heard of you before today.’
‘Gabe!’ Fi protested but Ken leant back and roared with laughter, easy and unaffected as the camera clicked and whirred, capturing the shot.
For the next twenty minutes, Gabe teased and taunted the actor who responded with good humour – clearly self-deprecation was his middle name – and all the while, Gabe moved quickly and calmly snapping landscape and portrait shots, turning the camera this way and that. Crouching, leaning and stretching in a series of ninja moves like an elegant ballet dancer despite his rugby-player frame. Fiona watched. No wonder he was a legend. There was something indefinable about his total control and sense of purpose throughout. He knew exactly what he was doing and oozed self-confidence.
He shook his hair out of his face, the blue eyes glowing with excitement and enthusiasm and she froze, as something grabbed her heart and squeezed it. Her eighteen-year-old self hadn’t known the half of it. Her mouth dried as she took in his lean hips while he crouched to take another shot, the nimble fingers holding the camera. Bloody, bloody, bloody, hell.
No. She didn’t want to feel like this. This tumultuous rush of emotion. The warmth burning in her chest at the sight of him. Broad shoulders. Wide chest. Muscle-man thighs. Didn’t want to imagine what it would be like to be held in those arms up against that chest. Did not want to be in love, smitten, or intoxicated with Gabe bloody Burnett. He was too far out of her league. He was too sophisticated. Too bored with life. Too cynical. Too arrogant. Too bloody talented. Too bloody gorgeous. Too everything.
