Page 16
Story: Capture the Rainbow
It couldn’t go on like this forever. Joel was taking too much time filming her stunts and he was far too professional to let the budget suffer to indulge his own personal quirks.
“Are you okay?” Skip Lowden asked quietly as he reached down a hand to pull her to her feet. His gray eyes were as cool as ever but there was a flicker of concern in their depths. His hands ran over her hips and ribs impersonally. “The padding’s holding all right?”
“Fine,” she said curtly. “I have more padding than an end for the Los Angeles Rams, and it seems that I’m going to need every bit of it.”
“It looks that way.” Skip took her arm and was striding with her up the hill. “You’re keeping loose, but I noticed on that last roll you forgot to tuck your left arm underneath you. Watch it or you could end up with a broken arm.”
“I will.” She hadn’t been aware of the slip but she had no doubt it had happened if Skip said so. She had been tired and upset, but a lack of concentration was not only unprofessional, it could kill her. “It won’t happen again, Skip.”
“Just thought I’d mention it,” Skip said absently. “Like I said, you’re looking good.” He paused a moment, oddly hesitant for someone so self-assured. “I can’t take the heat off you, Kendra. I’d like to, but he’s not violating any safety guidelines. In fact, when it comes to the risky gags, he’s being almost too careful. He’s made them in one take every time.” He frowned. “And some of those shots were pretty marginal. Any other director might have had you do a repeat.”
“Oh, he’s a great one for repeats.” They had reached the crest of the hill and she turned to face him, her expression grim. “Just ask me. I’m a living testament to his passion for repeats.” She shook her head resignedly. “I know there’s nothing you can do, Skip. How can you fault a director for having too many run-throughs? If I petitioned the Screen Actors Guild, they’d think I was crazy. The complaints are always on the other side of the scale.”
Skip nodded. “They probably wouldn’t believe any charge of harassment anyway. Damon’s reputation for fairness is too well founded.” He seemed puzzled. “That’s why I can’t understand what the hell is happening. I’ve worked with him before and he’s been damn good to everyone on the team. Hell, most of the time I not only respect but actually like the man.”
That was an impressive accolade for a man who was as fiercely protective of his team as Skip. If Joel hadn’t been putting her through all the fires of hell, she knew she too could have liked the man she’d grown to know in the last two weeks. In every aspect of directing that didn’t concern her personally, he was absolutely fair and sensitive to the needs of the actors and the crew he was working with. He gave as much as he demanded. And, if he was the workaholic she had accused him of being, still he had the brilliance and enthusiasm to inspire that same desire for perfection in the people around him.
She’d also discovered he had a wry sense of humor that occasionally destroyed the barrier of cynical reserve and revealed his almost boyish sense of fun. The first time she had seen that spark of mischief on his face was when he’d been joking with Billie. She had felt an odd tugging at her heart. Perhaps it was fortunate that she had been too angry with him most of the time to let that charisma seep through her guard.
Skip’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “I don’t suppose you have any idea why he has it in for you?”
“Does it matter?” she asked evasively. She checked the pins that held her wig in place and tucked the blue tails of her shirt more snugly into her jeans. “The only important thing is for me to survive it. It will all be over in another few days anyway. After this I’ve only got the horse chase through the desert,” she paused deliberately, “and the jump across the canyon.”
A rare smile tugged at Skip’s lips. “You’re pushing, Ken.” The smile abruptly disappeared. “Damon paid me a visit last week and told me that I wasn’t to give you that special under any circumstances.”
Kendra tensed. “And?”
“I told him I’d give it to anyone I damn well pleased. No one tells me how to run my shop.” Seeing the hope that suddenly lit her face he continued quickly, “That doesn’t mean you’ve got it, Ken. I still haven’t made a decision. I’ll let you know after the horse chase.” He touched his index finger lightly to her cheek. “You’ve done a good job so far, Ken. Hang in there.” Then he wheeled and strode rapidly down the hill. He turned his head to call back over his shoulder. “And keep that left arm tucked under.”
She laughed and nodded. “Right.” She was suddenly buoyantly optimistic, her former weariness and discouragement completely gone. She waved mockingly at Joel on the hoist. “Ready, Mr. Damon?”
“Whenever you are, Kendra.” Joel’s voice was equally mocking.
She dropped to the ground, her gaze on Joel’s sardonic face, half hidden by sunglasses. “Let’s go for it!”
She drew a deep breath and launched herself forward, curling into a loose pliant ball, carefully keeping her arms tucked in. It was a bone-jarring tumble even with her padding and the special preparations that had been made to the earth on her charted path down the hill, but the momentum of her descent was so swift that she wasn’t aware of any danger until she heard Skip’s strident yell.
“Straighten out! For God’s sake, straighten out, Kendra!”
Something was wrong, she thought with a cold rush of fear. Then it was too late for any thought at all because the ground beneath her was suddenly much harder and she felt sharp pain as the sleeve of her shirt ripped and the soft skin of her upper arm was exposed to the rocky terrain.
Rocks! There shouldn’t be any rocks on this specially prepared path down the slope. Then she felt a hot wrenching agony in her lower back that blanked out all other sensations as well as thought. For several seconds she wasn’t even aware that she had reached the bottom of the hill and was lying in a limp heap a full five yards from the target area.
Skip reached her first. “Don’t move,” he ordered curtly, falling to his knees beside her. His hands were moving over her arms and legs swiftly. “Where does it hurt?”
“My back,” she said dazedly, “and my arm. What happened, Skip?”
“Your body wasn’t in line with the path,” he said absently. “You know even an inch or so slant can change the direction of the roll. You were only halfway down the hill when you catapulted off the path.” He glanced up reprovingly. “You should have checked your angle before you launched.”
She knew that, she thought crossly. She always checked the angle as a matter of course. But she hadn’t this time, damn it. She had been too busy gawking like a moon-eyed teenager at Joel Damon. How stupid could you get?
“Do you think anything’s broken?” Skip asked. “Shall I get a stretcher?”
She shook her head adamantly. “I just had the breath knocked out of me and wrenched my back a little. Give me a minute and I’ll be fine. Help me to sit up, will you?”
His arm was immediately around her shoulders and he was slowly levering her into a sitting position. “Yell if there’s any pain and I’ll stop.”
There was pain but less than she’d expected, she realized with relief. The weak ligaments hadn’t torn again as she had feared and the pain was probably only due to severe bruising. “It’s okay,” she said. “After I get my arm patched up, I’ll be able to do it again.”
“Are you okay?” Skip Lowden asked quietly as he reached down a hand to pull her to her feet. His gray eyes were as cool as ever but there was a flicker of concern in their depths. His hands ran over her hips and ribs impersonally. “The padding’s holding all right?”
“Fine,” she said curtly. “I have more padding than an end for the Los Angeles Rams, and it seems that I’m going to need every bit of it.”
“It looks that way.” Skip took her arm and was striding with her up the hill. “You’re keeping loose, but I noticed on that last roll you forgot to tuck your left arm underneath you. Watch it or you could end up with a broken arm.”
“I will.” She hadn’t been aware of the slip but she had no doubt it had happened if Skip said so. She had been tired and upset, but a lack of concentration was not only unprofessional, it could kill her. “It won’t happen again, Skip.”
“Just thought I’d mention it,” Skip said absently. “Like I said, you’re looking good.” He paused a moment, oddly hesitant for someone so self-assured. “I can’t take the heat off you, Kendra. I’d like to, but he’s not violating any safety guidelines. In fact, when it comes to the risky gags, he’s being almost too careful. He’s made them in one take every time.” He frowned. “And some of those shots were pretty marginal. Any other director might have had you do a repeat.”
“Oh, he’s a great one for repeats.” They had reached the crest of the hill and she turned to face him, her expression grim. “Just ask me. I’m a living testament to his passion for repeats.” She shook her head resignedly. “I know there’s nothing you can do, Skip. How can you fault a director for having too many run-throughs? If I petitioned the Screen Actors Guild, they’d think I was crazy. The complaints are always on the other side of the scale.”
Skip nodded. “They probably wouldn’t believe any charge of harassment anyway. Damon’s reputation for fairness is too well founded.” He seemed puzzled. “That’s why I can’t understand what the hell is happening. I’ve worked with him before and he’s been damn good to everyone on the team. Hell, most of the time I not only respect but actually like the man.”
That was an impressive accolade for a man who was as fiercely protective of his team as Skip. If Joel hadn’t been putting her through all the fires of hell, she knew she too could have liked the man she’d grown to know in the last two weeks. In every aspect of directing that didn’t concern her personally, he was absolutely fair and sensitive to the needs of the actors and the crew he was working with. He gave as much as he demanded. And, if he was the workaholic she had accused him of being, still he had the brilliance and enthusiasm to inspire that same desire for perfection in the people around him.
She’d also discovered he had a wry sense of humor that occasionally destroyed the barrier of cynical reserve and revealed his almost boyish sense of fun. The first time she had seen that spark of mischief on his face was when he’d been joking with Billie. She had felt an odd tugging at her heart. Perhaps it was fortunate that she had been too angry with him most of the time to let that charisma seep through her guard.
Skip’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “I don’t suppose you have any idea why he has it in for you?”
“Does it matter?” she asked evasively. She checked the pins that held her wig in place and tucked the blue tails of her shirt more snugly into her jeans. “The only important thing is for me to survive it. It will all be over in another few days anyway. After this I’ve only got the horse chase through the desert,” she paused deliberately, “and the jump across the canyon.”
A rare smile tugged at Skip’s lips. “You’re pushing, Ken.” The smile abruptly disappeared. “Damon paid me a visit last week and told me that I wasn’t to give you that special under any circumstances.”
Kendra tensed. “And?”
“I told him I’d give it to anyone I damn well pleased. No one tells me how to run my shop.” Seeing the hope that suddenly lit her face he continued quickly, “That doesn’t mean you’ve got it, Ken. I still haven’t made a decision. I’ll let you know after the horse chase.” He touched his index finger lightly to her cheek. “You’ve done a good job so far, Ken. Hang in there.” Then he wheeled and strode rapidly down the hill. He turned his head to call back over his shoulder. “And keep that left arm tucked under.”
She laughed and nodded. “Right.” She was suddenly buoyantly optimistic, her former weariness and discouragement completely gone. She waved mockingly at Joel on the hoist. “Ready, Mr. Damon?”
“Whenever you are, Kendra.” Joel’s voice was equally mocking.
She dropped to the ground, her gaze on Joel’s sardonic face, half hidden by sunglasses. “Let’s go for it!”
She drew a deep breath and launched herself forward, curling into a loose pliant ball, carefully keeping her arms tucked in. It was a bone-jarring tumble even with her padding and the special preparations that had been made to the earth on her charted path down the hill, but the momentum of her descent was so swift that she wasn’t aware of any danger until she heard Skip’s strident yell.
“Straighten out! For God’s sake, straighten out, Kendra!”
Something was wrong, she thought with a cold rush of fear. Then it was too late for any thought at all because the ground beneath her was suddenly much harder and she felt sharp pain as the sleeve of her shirt ripped and the soft skin of her upper arm was exposed to the rocky terrain.
Rocks! There shouldn’t be any rocks on this specially prepared path down the slope. Then she felt a hot wrenching agony in her lower back that blanked out all other sensations as well as thought. For several seconds she wasn’t even aware that she had reached the bottom of the hill and was lying in a limp heap a full five yards from the target area.
Skip reached her first. “Don’t move,” he ordered curtly, falling to his knees beside her. His hands were moving over her arms and legs swiftly. “Where does it hurt?”
“My back,” she said dazedly, “and my arm. What happened, Skip?”
“Your body wasn’t in line with the path,” he said absently. “You know even an inch or so slant can change the direction of the roll. You were only halfway down the hill when you catapulted off the path.” He glanced up reprovingly. “You should have checked your angle before you launched.”
She knew that, she thought crossly. She always checked the angle as a matter of course. But she hadn’t this time, damn it. She had been too busy gawking like a moon-eyed teenager at Joel Damon. How stupid could you get?
“Do you think anything’s broken?” Skip asked. “Shall I get a stretcher?”
She shook her head adamantly. “I just had the breath knocked out of me and wrenched my back a little. Give me a minute and I’ll be fine. Help me to sit up, will you?”
His arm was immediately around her shoulders and he was slowly levering her into a sitting position. “Yell if there’s any pain and I’ll stop.”
There was pain but less than she’d expected, she realized with relief. The weak ligaments hadn’t torn again as she had feared and the pain was probably only due to severe bruising. “It’s okay,” she said. “After I get my arm patched up, I’ll be able to do it again.”