She sized him up from under the brim of her baseball cap. “But we brought a makeup artist for you.”
“I don’t wear makeup.”
“Powder would help.” When he didn’t reply, she shrugged. “We’ll try to work without it.”
Danice barked directions to her team. One assistant took photos of him while another crew member clipped a wireless microphone to his collar, making him feel as if he were being monitored. A large cameraman named Luis would follow him. A second camera operator would shoot what Danice called a B-roll of the island.
“All you have to do is pretend we’re not here,” she said as Luis began filming.
They started with his patrol route. Luis rode beside him, filming, while Blue drove down Orange Avenue, past the marina, and along the beachfront. He kept both hands on the wheel and his mouth shut.
“Can you tell us what you’re looking for?” Danice asked through a walkie-talkie in the van behind them. “Narrate a little. We need something other than visuals.”
“I’m watching for anything unusual.”
“Perfect. Can you say that line again in a more conversational tone?”
He did it, but he felt like an idiot.
“Now let’s get the flavor of the beach life,” Danice said.
Blue pulled over by the beach and refilled his coffee cup from his thermos for another jolt to get through this. He looked at the cup in his hand, thinking about Jo. He got out of the car, still holding the cup.
They filmed him leaning against the squad car, strolling along the boardwalk, and scanning the beach. A tourist recognized him from last year’s calendar and wanted a photo with him. Luis filmed while Blue stood there like a man in a lineup.
He simply had to endure it.
Next, Luis shot footage of him by a colorful food truck near the pier.
The server shouted to her coworker that the calendar cop was at her window. Luis adjusted his angle. Blue was so self-conscious, he knew his ears were turning red.
That would show up on TV. Maybe he should have had makeup.
“We need to film a traffic stop,” Danice said after that.
Blue was confused. “Like a set-up?”
“No, a real one,” Danice said. “Catch someone doing something illegal. Viewers will love that. Be sure to flash your lights.”
He hated this, but orders were orders, ridiculous as they were. Blue drove to a stop sign that people often rolled through for better visibility and parked on the cross street, partly camouflaged behind a shrub.
“How long will this take?” Danice asked.
“That depends on how eager people are to break the law today.” Blue twisted his mouth to one side, trying to stay patient. After a few minutes, a car slowed but didn’t come to a full stop.
“Here we go.” Blue turned on his flashing lights, and the driver pulled to one side. He stepped out and approached the rental car, going through the motions.
The couple that eased through the stop sign were visiting from Arizona.
“Welcome to Crown Island,” Blue said, writing a warning ticket. “We have many tourists like yourselves who aren’t familiar with the roads. You’ll see folks walking in the street and riding bikes, so keep your eyes on the road.”
The woman leaned across her husband. “Aren’t you that Crown Island calendar cop? I saw you on the town’s social media.”
Blue turned up a corner of his mouth. “Guilty as charged.”
“Are we being recorded?” the man asked, spying Luis.
“It’s for a news piece. The producer probably wants your consent,” he added, gesturing toward Danice. “This is just a warning ticket, by the way.”
