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“Okay, I’ll hold you to that,” he said before he stood up. “Now, show me the play you want help with.”
Davina’s stomach flipped. Suddenly shooting the movie didn’t seem so important. Other things were creeping up her list.
Jack was having a blast. He couldn’t wait to get out of bed in the morning to see what wacky thing Davina was going to do today. He’d almost choked from laughing so hard just listening to Davy and her friend plot about how to suck him into another scheme. Now he was supposed to be an actor. Hysterical.
“Right,” Davy said as he sat on the top step of the veranda beside him. “Here are your lines. Let’s run through them a few times so that you feel comfortable with them.”
“So who am I playing?” He took the pieces of paper from her as though they were laden with anthrax powder.
Acting wasn’t something he was interested in. To be honest, he wasn’t sure real men acted. Sure they could look tough on TV, but in real life they were more interested in their hair and public image. He bet he could take any of those so called action men in a fight.
“Jack, are you listening?”
“Uh.” No, would be the answer.
“You need to focus. Derek will be here soon and we have to do the filming before we lose the natural light.”
“What about those things?” He pointed at the lights, silver umbrellas, and huge white disks that Marianne was setting up.
“Fill-in light,” Davina said as though that would mean something to him. She saw his face. “To make sure we get the details and that everything comes out evenly on screen.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. He didn’t like this one bit.
“Now,” Davina said. “You are playing the heroine’s boyfriend.”
“Do we get naked?”
“No.”
“Shame.”
She rolled her eyes. Joking aside, when he got naked with Davy, he didn’t want there to be an audience. When he got naked. Not if.
“Now, the woman in the story had a bad relationship. Very abusive. And now she has a new man in her life. She thought she wanted to kill off the old one, she even hired some folk to do it, but the new man has chased away her hurt and bitterness and she doesn’t feel the need for vengeance so strongly now.”
“Seriously? That’s the story?” It sounded beyond bad.
“What’s wrong with the story?” The way she said it made little bells go off in his head. She’d written this piece of rubbish?
“Nothing,” he said.
She stared at him for a beat. His palms began to sweat. It was like dealing with a live grenade. One false move and boom.
“So,” she continued. “In this scene he tells her he loves her and gives her hope for the future, which makes her call off the murder and then all hell breaks loose because the people she hired don’t want the murder to be called off. Got it?”
“Basically I got the chick flick portion of a thriller.”
“Exactly.”
He read a few lines and baulked.
“I can’t read this. Men don’t talk like this.”
“Yes. They. Do.” She clenched her jaw.
Jack picked a couple of lines at random.
“Rebecca,” he said in a fake voice, “you are my heart. My reason for living. I need you with me now and forever. If you continue down this path you will lose your soul and the light within you will be snuffed out. The woman I fell in love with will be gone. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t do this to us.”
