Page 88 of Blood Stone
Chapter Nineteen
Garrett failed to snag a seat in the same car as Kate on the way out to the location for the night, so he sat in a minivan with a bunch of actors who were busy memorizing their scripts. He instead studied the images Sebastian had printed out for him, as the tension wound tighter and tighter.
The location wasn’t far away this time, which was a deep relief. He climbed out of the van and immediately searched for Kate.
She was checking the site through a viewfinder, her assistant director and the director of photography at her side. The set people had already set up the pavilion and props for the scene and they were lit, the generator running the lights sitting a hundred yards away in its own insulated truck to muffle the noise.
Garrett slogged over the loose sand toward Kate.
“…the left side is too dark. Put some yellow filters on that, too, I think, just to bring it up a bit,” she was saying.
“Kate,” Garrett said.
She glanced at him. “Now’s not good,” she said shortly and turned back to the D.P.
“It’s not going to be good for the next six hours. Now’s as good as it gets,” Garrett said.
“Can’t this wait?” she said, a furrow between her brow.
“No, it can’t.”
She glanced at her DP and the AD. “Gimme five,” she said. “Sorry.” She handed the AD her viewfinder and moved over the rippled sand to where Garrett stood waiting. She grabbed his elbow and dragged him even further away from the two men who stood watching them. “This had better be fucking spectacular,” she told him.
Garrett held out the first print out. Kate turned it around and glanced at it, frowning, trying to read it in the bad light.
“It’s a hospital chart, showing your diagnosis at age five, for cystic fibrosis,” Garrett told her, keeping his voice down.
“So?”
He gave her the second sheet. “That’s a surgeon’s post-procedure report, showing the success of a double-lung and kidney transplant. Also yours, at age eight.”
Kate’s furrow was deeper. She didn’t say anything this time.
Garrett handed her the last print out. This was an image of her crossing the street near her home in the Hollywood hills. It was a candid paparazzi shot and it was a very good one – high resolution, clear and focused. She had been caught coming home from the markets. She had been carrying a bagful of produce under one arm and she wore dark glasses. But the blonde hair and pointed chin were unmistakeable.
It had been mid-summer and her dress had been low cut. Because of the produce bag, the tiny strap had slipped off her other shoulder and the dress hung even lower than it should, exposing even more of her chest than she intended.
Kate glanced at it, then at Garrett. “What the hell?”
“It’s a candid shot. No make-up. You weren’t expecting rope lines and fans that day, Kate.”
He could see she still didn’t understand, so he spared her. “There are no scars. Even after twenty years, there should be something and you can almost count the hairs on your brows in that photograph, it’s so clear. So where are the scars on your chest from a double lung transplant?”
She slapped the stack of documents back against his chest. “That’s it? That’s what you’re holding up a multi-million dollar movie for? Three sheets and a lack offucking scars?”
The two men standing waiting for her, fifteen feet away, jerked their heads around, startled. So did a dozen other people, nearby.
Garrett grabbed the print-outs as she let them go. “You’re dodging the question.”
“I’m not dodging the fucking question!” she spat back. “I’m not going to fucking answer it at all, because it’s a moronic fucking waste of time!” She stalked back toward her crew, then turned back toward him, her body stiff with fury. She grabbed the hem of her tee-shirt and started dragging it up. “You wanna see the scars now, Garrett? Huh? How about I rip this fucking thing off now and satisfy your morbid fucking curiosity and the whole fucking set at the same time?”
He held up his hand. It didn’t surprise him to see it trembled. “Don’t.”
“Get out of my sight, Garrett.” She turned and walked away.
Garrett did the same.
Filming went wrong from the first take that night and nothing seemed to go right. Kate’s temper didn’t improve, although she didn’t take it out on anyone else.
