Hot Winter Nights. Debbi RawlinsЧитать онлайн книгу.
for goodness’ sake, she’d left it in plain sight on her lap. It was obvious she wanted her to see. “When did Jason make those changes?”
“I shouldn’t be discussing this with you,” Penelope said with her usual air of superiority, which was one of the many reasons the film crew didn’t like her.
An icy gust shook the small trailer, and Lila shivered. The cold December wind that had been sweeping down from the Rockies for three days straight had everyone grumbling. They should’ve been wrapping up and getting out of Montana by now. Not camped a mile outside the small town of Blackfoot Falls, the ragtag trailers where they worked and slept powered by generators that could barely keep up with the frigid overnight temperatures.
On top of all that, they were three weeks behind schedule.
Of course delays were to be expected in the movie business. But that hadn’t stopped morale from plummeting more and more each day as they got closer to Christmas. All the changes to both script and routine brought on by their new investor sure hadn’t helped.
Penelope cleared her throat.
Lila glanced at her. “Did you say something?”
“I said, since you already saw the pink pages, I might as well tell you. The director thought I interpreted the role of Dominique so masterfully he said it would be a crime for my character not to be in the sequel.”
Translation—Jason was still sleeping with her.
It wasn’t news. Everyone on the set knew what was going on between the director and the leading lady. But for him to suddenly change the last scene of the movie? That was going to cost their small, undercapitalized, independent film more money. What on earth had he been thinking?
This wasn’t like him. Lila had known Jason for almost ten years. She and her friend Erin had met him in film school. Lila truly hoped this sudden change had nothing to do with the new investor. Or with Erin’s subdued mood.
No, if Erin knew something about the last-minute revisions, she would’ve passed it on. They’d been friends since the third grade. They told each other everything.
“Look, if my character ends up in the sequel, that shouldn’t impact your role. You’re only slated to be a supporting actress, after all. It’ll be quite a break for someone like you.”
Lila looked at Penelope with half her dark roots still showing and tried not to laugh. Sad, really. If Penelope didn’t have a script in front of her, she was hopeless. Invariably she’d say something tactless or embarrassing.
“I’m not worried,” Lila said, and dipped the brush into the dye solution. Frankly, it hadn’t occurred to her. She was more concerned about making it home to spend the holidays with her family. “Has Jason mentioned anything about breaking for Christmas?”
Penelope checked her watch, ignoring Lila, as usual. “Would you hurry this up? I have a dinner date.”
“Going to the diner?”
Penelope met her eyes in the mirror. Miracle of all miracles—she laughed, instead of looking as if all crew members were barely tolerable. “I honestly don’t understand how anyone can live in this town.”
“Oh, I don’t know. The place has a certain charm.” Lila meant it, even though she’d grown up in Southern California. The people in Blackfoot Falls were friendly, and of course curious.
Clearly Penelope interpreted the comment as sarcasm and mistook Lila for a kindred spirit. With a little smile, Penelope went back to reading the script changes.
Fine with Lila. She didn’t want to make small talk. She preferred having the time to think. If she could finagle four days off, she could get home for Christmas. It wouldn’t be easy. The round-trip drive would leave her with only a day and a half with the family. Flying was out of the question since she was almost broke.
The quick turnaround wasn’t ideal, but it would be worth it. She’d already missed decorating the house with her mom and sister. Even though she knew that some people thought it was silly, not being with her family, everyone singing carols while they cooked Christmas dinner together, was unimaginable. Her brother’s wife, Cheryl, had joined the tradition last year. For Lila, Christmas and home were synonymous.
Just as she applied more solution to Penelope’s dark regrowth, a scream pierced the low hum of the crowd milling around outside.
People started yelling.
“What was that?” Penelope pushed to get up, then must’ve remembered what she looked like with her hair plastered to her head and sank down again.
“I don’t know.” Lila rushed to the window, couldn’t see anything, so she went to the door.
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell.” Lila tried to see past a crowd of extras blocking her view. “Hold on a second.” She pulled off the plastic gloves and took the three rickety steps, her beat-up Nikes touching the hard ground just as she heard the distressed neighs of a horse.
“Stand back, everyone. No one needs to get hurt.” The man’s deep, steady voice drifted in the chill air as smooth as fine, warm brandy.
“Right now, people.” That was Erin, from somewhere in the direction of the catering truck. “Give him room.”
Lila found a narrow gap in the crowd and pushed through.
A beautiful black horse reared and let out a high, extended whinny. He wasn’t penned or tethered but cornered by a cowboy with longish dark hair, wearing a tan hat with the brim pulled low. The man threw a rope around the horse’s neck, and the animal tossed its head and stamped the ground.
A collective murmur rose from the crowd.
“You know who that stallion belongs to?”
Lila turned to the unfamiliar voice behind her. But the older, bearded man wasn’t talking to her.
“Nope,” the guy next to him replied. He smiled at her and touched the brim of his hat. “Afternoon, ma’am.”
They were probably locals hired as extras. Quite a few were standing by, waiting to be called for the next scene.
Lila returned his smile, then resumed watching the scene unfolding in front of her.
Moving in slowly, the cowboy whispered something to the horse. He didn’t stop, just kept speaking in a low, hushed voice. Whatever it was, the stallion began to calm down.
“Is that Clint Landers? I think it is. I see his Whispering Pines trailer over there.”
Lila shuddered. Partly because the stallion had a fierce look about him, but there was something about the tall, lean cowboy that had her wrapping her arms around herself to ward off another shiver.
Stepping aside, she turned to the two men. “Do you know what happened?”
“That black broke loose. Someone didn’t tether him proper. He should’ve been left in the corral.”
“What’s the Whispering Pines?” she asked just as she spotted the white horse trailer.
“It’s the Landers family’s ranch,” the bearded man said. “That fella with the stallion is Clint Landers.”
Hmm. He looked to be in his early thirties. Probably married.
“Are you an actress?” The younger guy hadn’t stopped staring at her.
“Not exactly,” she said. “I do hair and makeup.”
“Well, that’s not right. You’re too gorgeous not to be a movie star.”
She just smiled and turned to watch the cowboy. She could’ve told him she was an actress. It was the truth. She just wasn’t acting in this particular film. But she’d played a few bit parts here and there, and soon enough she would make the transition from