Her Leading Man

by Duncan, Alice

  She nodded. “All set.”

  Martin called out in a voice that had been overworked during the day and now rasped, “And . . . action!”

  The cameraman started cranking, and Martin and Christina, their arms around each other, stumbled across the bleak desert. Indio had nothing much over Egypt when it came to desert, although civilization was a good deal closer. Thank God. If Christina had had to endure this foot trek for real, she knew darned well she wouldn’t have survived.

  “All right, Christina, as soon as we get to that rock, you fall. Got it?”

  “Right. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble looking pathetic, either.”

  “Don’t make me laugh.”

  She loved it when the smile sounded in his voice.

  “I’ll try not to.”

  They reached the rock, Christina’s feet dragged for a few seconds, and then she sank slowly and gracefully onto the sand. “Darn it, the ground’s really hot,” she muttered.

  “Sorry, darling. I’ll try not to delay, but I’ve got some business to do first.” He did it well First he stared down at her in consternation. His ruffled hair came in handy now, since he truly looked as though he’d been through an ordeal. He dragged his fingers through it in order to mess it up some more as he gazed at Christina sprawled elegantly on the dirt.

  “All right,” he said. “I’m going to pick you up now.”

  “Sorry, Martin. I wish I weighed less. Hope I don’t strain your back or anything.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll cope.”

  He fell to his knees on the far side of her body, keeping his head down so as to disguise his appearance from the camera and the viewing audience. After making a placating gesture to the heavens, he bent over further and slid his arms under her. “Heave ho.”

  Christina was distressed to hear the heaviness of his grunt when he rose to his feet with her in his arms. He staggered backward a few steps, and she feared he wasn’t acting. She murmured once more, “Sorry about the weight, sweetheart.”

  “Think nothing of it.” The words came out in a series of gasps. “I think I’ve got you now.”

  When he set off toward a far oasis, his footsteps didn’t achieve a straight line. While Christina figured his staggering gait would look good on film, she felt sorry for the strain her weight was putting on him. She wasn’t fat, but she still weighed a good hundred twenty-five or more pounds. She was certainly no lightweight for a man who was already too tired to be performing such strenuous stunts.

  “For Pete’s sake, aren’t they ever going to call cut?” she asked after what seemed like hours of being carried across the burning desert sands.

  “I don’t think so,” Martin gasped back.

  “Why don’t you call a cut yourself? You shouldn’t have to carry me any farther, Martin. I know you’re straining something. You’ll be laid up tomorrow if this scene doesn’t end soon.”

  “I can make it.”

  She could tell he was talking through clenched teeth. Sweat poured from his face and dripped on to her body. Fortunately his back was now to the camera, so nobody would know about the sweat but her. Darn it, this wasn’t fair.

  “If that idiot hadn’t broken his stupid arm, you wouldn’t have to go through this,” she told Martin.

  “If he hadn’t broken his aim, he’d be the one carrying you. I’d hate that even more than I hate having to carry you in the hot sun.”

  How marvelously sweet he was! “Thank you, dear.”

  “Cut!” Ben called at last. Since Martin was unable to see the scene as he was acting in it, Ben had been enlisted to cut the scene when he felt the proper effect had been achieved.

  Martin almost dropped her, his arms were so tired. She helped him out by jumping to the ground. Immediately she turned, grabbed on to his arms, and gazed at him with concern. “Are you all right, Martin?”

  “Yeah. I think so. Let me shake out my arms.”

  She let him go, and he shook out his arms as Christina inspected him for damage. She didn’t see any, but she worried about his spine. “How’s your back? Do you feel any strain there?” She knew how painful back injuries could be. Her father saw many patients who suffered from sciatic pain after hurting their backs by lifting and carrying things. It was one of the most painful conditions known to man, and Christina would feel horribly guilty if she’d caused Martin to suffer from it.

  “My back’s okay. I’m really pretty strong, you know.”

  Oh dear, she hoped she hadn’t hurt his feelings by questioning his masculine prowess. Christina knew how silly men could be about such things.

  “Spines are tricky little devils,” she said in an effort to assuage any damage she’d done to his pride. “My father’s seen lots of people whose backs have gone out when they’ve only leaned over to pick up pieces of paper and so forth. I’m a lot heavier than paper.”

  He chuckled. “True, but I think I’m all right.”

  She sure hoped he was.

  Ben came up to them. “Good job, you two. I think this picture is going to be great.”

  Christina saw Martin’s eyebrows lift in surprise. Ben didn’t generally make pronouncements of such a nature. She said, “Really?”

  The cameraman nodded. “Really. The public’s going to love it. You two looked perfect. It’s going to pack a real emotional punch.”

  Pablo Orozco strolled up. Since he hadn’t been required to do anything but pose for close-up shots all day, he looked fresh as a daisy. Christina hated him for it. Not that she hadn’t hated him before.

  “You shouldn’t have played the part so weak, Martin,” Pablo said in a voice that was too condescending for Christina’s temper to endure.

  She spat out, “Who are you to make disparaging comments, you idiot?”

  Martin took hold of her arm. “Don’t pay any attention to him, Christina.” He turned to Pablo and said in his ever-patient director’s voice, “We’ve been walking on the waterless desert for a week or so, Pablo. Being weak is a part of the message of the picture.”

  “Fah. I am strong.”

  “You’re a pig,” Christina muttered.

  She regretted displaying her temper when Martin hastily spoke up again. “Yes, well, let’s get the close-ups shot, and we can all go inside and get out of this pernicious sun.” Without giving either actor the opportunity to speak again, he went on, “Pablo, you go on over to the oasis where Ben’s set up his camera. Christina, you need to take your hair down for this next scene.”

  “Right.” She didn’t relish the prospect since her hair was heavy, and she’d he even hotter with it streaming down her back than she was now And she was already about to boil. Nevertheless, she took out her hairpins and handed them to Martin. “Will you hold on to these for me, please?”

  “Glad to.” He gave her an encouraging smile, and she once more realized how much she loved him.

  “Thanks, Martin.” She lifted herself on tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss before she started off after Orozco.

  She was dreading this scene. In it, Ben was going to capture a close-up kiss between herself and the man she loathed, and the thought made Christina feel positively ill. Unless that was the heat.

  Ben took his position behind the tripod and camera, and Christina sat underneath a date palm. She didn’t have any difficulty looking exhausted. Her head even lolled without any help from her. Ben and the camera were only a couple of feet away from her palm tree in order to film the actors’ faces.

  “All ready?” Martin asked from his position beside Ben.

  “I guess so,” Christina muttered. She positively dreaded this scene.

  “I am ready,” Orozco pronounced.

  Christina rolled her eyes. Martin didn’t react, but only said, “All right, then. Action!”

  Ben began cranking. Christina lolled some more. Orozco came into view after Ben had cranked for several seconds. In this scene, he was supposed to give Christina water, and then they were supposed to kiss.

  “
Here, my juicy little date,” Orozco purred. “Allow me to refresh you with water.”

  “Your juicy little date, my foot,” Christina muttered. But she did her part. Straightening slightly, she gave the ham a wan smile.

  Orozco sat beside her, put his good arm around her, and drew her forward an inch or so. A property girl, out of the camera’s sight, thrust a goblet into Christina’s hand Where the slave girl she was supposed to be could have found a goblet on a barren desert, Christina had no idea, but she didn’t fuss.

  With a flutter of her eyelashes and a look of deathless love at Pablo Orozco, she lifted the goblet to her lips and drank. The water felt good going down. She imagined her headache had come on because she was dehydrated after this miserable day’s work.

  “Look into my eyes,” Orozco commanded. “Show me how much you want me.”

  “If I did that, I’d probably throw up, and we’d never get this thing in the can.”

  “Ha. You can’t fool me, Christina. I know you want me.”

  “Oh, fudge. You’re impossible.” Her expression of abject adoration didn’t diminish, although every nerve in her body rebelled.

  As he slowly leaned closer to her, she wanted to draw away but couldn’t or she’d ruin the scene. When Pablo’s lips finally touched hers, she couldn’t suppress a shudder of revulsion. How could a kiss feel heavenly when shared with one man—Martin—and feel so filthy and disgusting when shared with another—Pablo?

  He kept kissing her and kept kissing her, until Christina figured surely enough time had passed for a dozen kisses to have transpired. Still, he didn’t remove himself from her. Nobody yelled “cut.”

  The kiss went on.

  And on.

  And on.

  Finally, she couldn’t tolerate it another millisecond longer. With his lips still crushing hers, she gasped, “Let me go, damn you!”

  As soon as her mouth opened, he thrust his tongue inside That was it for her. With a tremendous push, she shoved Orozco away from her. Since he’d been exerting a good deal of pressure on her as he assaulted her, she’d had to brace herself with her hands. One of them had brushed against a rock, and her hand sought out that rock in an impulse prompted, she later assumed, by a snatch at self-preservation.

  Christina shrieked, “Let me go!” as she grabbed the rock and bashed Orozco on the side of the head with it. Too frenzied even to consider what she’d done, Christina leaped to her feet, panting hard. “You cad! You foul beast!” She scrubbed her mouth and tongue with the back of the hand not holding the rock.

  “Good God, what happened?”

  Martin grabbed her from behind, and she darned near conked him on the head with the rock before she realized who he was. Overwhelmed with headache, exhaustion, and revulsion at what Orozco had just done to her, she turned and threw her arms around Martin, who obliged her by hugging her close.

  “What the heck happened?” Ben had stopped cranking the camera as soon as Christina’s first shout reached his ear. He, too, had run up to see what was going on.

  “She struck me!” Pablo Orozco shouted, pressing his good hand to his bleeding head. “I’m injured!’

  Christina wrenched herself out of Martin’s arms. Tears streamed down her made-up face, but she wasn’t aware of them until later. She bellowed, “I’ll kill you, you filthy pig!” Before she could carry out her intentions, Martin again grabbed hold of her.

  Frowning, Martin glanced down at Orozco. “What happened here, Pablo? Did you do something to Christina?”

  “Fah!” Orozco cried. “She struck me with a rock.”

  “I wished I’d caved your conceited head in!”

  Martin, still holding her tight, dared to remove one hand from her. He patted her shoulder with it in an attempt to calm her. “It’s all right, Christina. The scene’s over now. I think Ben got it in one take, and we won’t have to reshoot it.” The glance he shot at Ben pleaded eloquently that Ben agree with Martin’s assessment.

  Either because it was true or because Ben sympathized with Martin, he nodded. “Yeah. It looked great. It’ll be perfect.”

  “Thank God.”

  Christina’s bosom still heaved with fury, and she clung to her rock and to Martin. At the moment she wasn’t sure which one she’d be better off letting go of. She still wanted to crush Orozco’s skull. Doing so would only benefit mankind. Rather, it would benefit womankind. At the moment, Christina’s compassion didn’t extend to the males of the species.

  “He stuck his tongue down my throat.” Her voice shook with rage. “He actually dared to stick his filthy tongue down my throat!”

  “Fah,” said Orozco. “You loved it.”

  “I what?” She drew her hand back, intending to heave the rock in Orozco’s face—she might at least be able to break his nose, if she couldn’t kill him—but again Martin prevented her from achieving her goal.

  “Don’t, Christina!” His voice was sharp this time. It was the first time she’d ever heard him speak so crisply to her. Whirling around, she stared at him

  “But, but—He stuck his tongue down my throat!”

  “Yes, I heard you the first few times, but you can’t batter him anymore, darling.”

  “Why not?”

  Christina resented Martin’s deep and soulful sigh. What did he have to be upset about? Orozco hadn’t stuck his tongue in his mouth!

  “Try to, calm down, Christina,” Martin advised.

  She resented that, too. “He shouldn’t have done it.”

  “Fah,” muttered Orozco.

  “Fah, my foot,” bellowed Christina.

  “Say, Pablo, that wasn’t a nice thing to do.” Ben didn’t raise his voice, but it reeked with disapproval. “You know darned well that Christina and Martin are engaged to be married. You have no business kissing Christina like that. Why, it’s disgusting!”

  The cameraman’s words so shocked Christina that she stood in Martin’s grip, her mouth hanging open, for several seconds. Everyone knew they were engaged? To be married? How could everyone know that, if even Christina didn’t? The assumptions people made astounded her sometimes.

  “That’s right, Pablo. That was a low-down thing to do.”

  Christina’s gaze swerved from Ben to Martin, who’d next spoken. She couldn’t find any words in her mouth anywhere.

  Martin went on. “You know good and well that Christina and I are a couple. It’s infamous of you to take advantage of her while you’re filming a scene.”

  “She hit me.” Orozco had started sulking. “With a rock. She might have killed me.”

  Suddenly, Christina found her voice. “I wish I had.”

  But she knew Ben and Martin were being reasonable here, and she ought to desist. She’d made her point. She could even take a grim sort of satisfaction in the knowledge that she’d defended herself with spirit—violence, even—and that she’d come away from the encounter the victor. Even if she did feel like gagging when she recalled the feel of Orozco’s slimy tongue slipping inside her mouth.

  Grimacing, she rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand again. “Blech.” Figuring she wouldn’t need it any longer, she dropped the rock. It was better this way. If Orozco said anything else, she might lose her temper again, and it was better that she not be armed at the time.

  “Are you all right, sweetheart?” Martin let his arm slide around her shoulder. The weather was hot than Hades, much too hot to do any cuddling, but his arm and the concern in his voice made her feel a little better.

  “I think so.” She glared at Orozco, whose face was probably going to be showing the damage from her rock for several days. She was glad. “If he so much as touches me again, though, I’ll do again.”

  Martin sighed once more, and Christina turned on him. “I will! Blast it, Martin, you don’t know what it’s like to be pawed by a creature like him!” Her finger trembled as she pointed it at Orozco.

  “I know, I know.” Martin looked like he might have a headache, too. “He was wrong and behaved ab
ominably, but it’s over now I think we ought to go back to the resort and see if we can get out of this miserable weather.”

  Christina had been perspiring for several long minutes. Without a care to her makeup or her tattered costume, she lifted one of her ragged sleeves and wiped her eyes and forehead. The costume came away smeared with dead-white facial paint and black eye makeup. She didn’t care. Let Peerless take care of their costumes. Evidently the studio cared more for its costumes than it did for its actors.

  But that was unfair. Peerless was a company of people, one of whom was Martin Tafft, and he cared a lot. She knew it.

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s a good idea. I have a fearful headache.” Now that she was no longer boiling mad, she also felt like falling down on the floor, kicking her heels, battering it with her fists, and crying, too. She didn’t say that part, but she knew she was in bad shape when she felt like throwing a tantrum. Mayhews did not throw tantrums.

  “I need to have the doctor call on me.” Pablo Orozco, still pressing a hand to his bleeding head, finally arose from where he’d landed after Christina had whopped him. Ben helped him up.

  Christina sneered at him The big sissy. She hadn’t needed help getting away from him. He needed help to stand up. She grabbed Martin’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  Martin hesitated for a minute, then looked at Ben. “Ben . . .?”

  “I’ll take care of the set,” Ben said helpfully. “You take care of Christina.”

  “Thanks, Ben.”

  Martin and Christina walked back to the resort. The first few minutes of their trek were silent until Martin spoke

  “I’m really sorry you had to endure Pablo’s assault, love.”

  Christina sighed deeply. “It’s over now.” Her nose wrinkled. “But I still want to wash out my mouth.”

  “I’d like to shoot the bastard.”

  Martin’s words startled Christina so badly, she stopped walking and stared at him for a moment. Good heavens, she’d had no idea he’d reacted so strongly to Orozco’s villainy.

  Realizing she wasn’t by his side any longer, Martin turned. His expression puzzled, he said, “What’s the matter, love? Do you need help?”