“What’s wrong?” I asked the second she’d hung up.
When she explained what had happened, I was only too happy to help her; there was nothing in the world I wouldn’t do to help her. I had gotten straight onto the phone with someone I knew that owned three very upmarket lodges at Sabi Sands, zero tents. I’d had a celebrity client book out one of his lodges for a birthday party, and he’d made a good deal of money from it, so I knew that if he was able to help, he would.
Ash was standing over me while I was on the phone, biting the skin on her finger, something she did when she was very, very nervous. She was hanging on my every word and waiting for me to end the call, and the second I did, she pounced.
“So?”
“The proposed shooting date doesn’t work for either of the lodges. There’s a wedding at one, a conference at the other, and the other one is being redecorated.”
“Shit.” She collapsed back on the sofa.
“He’s proposed another date, but that’s during the Zimbabwe shoot. I could call them, though, and see if they’re able to change dates. Do you think production would be willing to change the schedule that has already been decided on, as well as a new schedule for the new location, if we get it?”
“I’ll ask.”
She called Sebastian immediately. “Ask the producer if they are able to change shooting dates for other locations. I may have a location, but the proposed shooting dates don’t work.”
She hung up and then stared at the phone in her hand, as if willing the call to come as quickly as possible. And when it did, she answered on the first ring.
“And what did they say?” Then she smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. “There are no tents. Cool, I’ll send you a link to the location in the meantime, make them look at it ten times and make them sign off on it. I’ll ask my friend Sarah to draw up a contract. We want a signature. They cannot get there and decide it’s not giving whatever the hell they want it to give, otherwise I am going to be giving them a kick in the ass.”
The second she’d hung up she said, “Okay, start shuffling. Production will figure it out.”
I got back onto the phone with the manager at Matobo Hills, as well as the other lodges, and began moving the location dates around to make it all fit. And when it was all successfully done, which was a total miracle, I turned to Ash and smiled.
“Oh my God!” She ran up to me and threw herself into my arms. “You’re amazing! You’ve saved our shoot.”
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her as close as I could. We hugged like that, swaying side to side slowly. It was one of those long, happy hugs, the kind you only give to people you truly love, people you’ve truly missed. Slowly, we disentangled ourselves and parted.
“There’s a little catch, though,” I said.
“What?”
“Two catches, really.”
“Mmmm?” She looked panicked again.
“You can leave tomorrow morning, early, at six and will be there by seven thirty, but it’s in the lodge’s small plane and I know how much you hate tho—”
“That’s fine! I can deal with that. What’s number two?”
“So . . . the lodge is fully booked right now, so you would have to stay in the staff village. They have a room there. That’s the best he can do at short notice. He says he might be able to move you into a room at one of the other lodges the following night.”
“Are you not coming?”
“Nope. No need to. I know them. They’re already with my agency, so I don’t have any business discussions I need to have with them.”
“So, okay . . . just me.” She nodded and looked unsure. “So you won’t be on the plane either?”
“Are you okay with that?”
She started bobbing her head up and down enthusiastically. “Fine! I’ll be fine. There’s no way that plane ride can be worse than the last one. I’m fine, really. Thank you so much for this. I’d better get going. I have a lot to pack.”
She started gathering up her equipment. I could see her hands were shaking slightly.
“If you want,” I said, “I could fly with you. I’ll fly back later that day. I know they’re coming back to fetch some guests—they do a few flights a day—and when you’re done, I could do the same if it would, you know . . .”
She stood up straight and looked at me. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. Besides, I need to get over this. I’m nearly thirty-two years old, maybe this is a good opportunity for me to . . .”
