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‘Are you talking about the film you’ve just finished?’ His curiosity was no longer constrained by having to pretend ignorance of her background.
Rosalind pulled a wry face. ‘You mean which almost finished me.’
She embarked on her humorously harrowing tale of woman-eating sharks, broken bones and mosquitoes the size of vampire bats. ‘It was the sheer incompetency of the whole thing that I found so infuriating,’ she finished, with an angry twist to her mobile mouth. ‘I wouldn’t have minded the deprivations so much if it had been a cracking script, but by the time the director had done a million rewrites the characters were practically incomprehensible. As a break into films it was not a good career move...’
‘I thought you preferred the stage anyway,’ he said, confirming that he had read the small print of the article, not just the trashy bits. ‘What made you want to do this film?’
She sighed. He had an instinct for innocently framing awkward questions.
‘Impulse. I was looking to expand my horizons. The original script was actually quite good...and the director begged me to!’ She opened her eyes and found him regarding her thoughtfully. She moved her expressive hands restlessly. ‘Trina was a friend of mine. Hell, I didn’t know that since we left drama school she’d only done commercials and music videos!’
‘You didn’t think to check out her credentials before you committed yourself?’ It was the accountant not the jet-ski speed pirate talking, and his incredulous tone put her on the defensive.
‘I told you, she was an old friend. I liked her. It was a loyalty thing.’
‘Misplaced loyalty as it turned out.’
Rosalind bristled at the hint of contempt. ‘Yes, well, that’s the whole point of loyalty, isn’t it—sticking with people through the bad as well as the good? Erina did her best; her ambition simply overreached her abilities. At least she was willing to take the risk and try, and I respect her for that.’
His raised eyebrow was a taunt in itself and she thought that if he had been a calculating man she would have suspected him of playing the devil’s advocate purely to provoke her impulsive retort. ‘Maybe it was the element of risk that attracted you to the project in the first place.’
‘Maybe it was,’ she prevaricated. ‘But at least I came out of it with a minimum wage. The investors must have taken a bath!’
As she’d suspected, the financial red herring was too tempting for him to resist, and they discussed the intricacies of film financing before Rosalind managed gradually to edge the conversation around to a subject of potentially greater interest—Luke’s Harley-Davidson-owning days. However, they turned out to be disappointingly tame... a case of riding the motorcycle back and forth to university and to his part-time job. He had never even belonged to a motorcycle club, let alone a gang. As far as he was concerned, his grunt-machine had been merely a convenient and economical form of transport, with the added advantage of being a classic which would appreciate in value and therefore could be viewed in the light of an investment.
‘A conformist without a cause!’ Rosalind murmured, wistfully relinquishing the illicit vision of a leather-clad Luke lounging astride a sexy hunk of chrome and black, a cigarette and a sneer dangling from his lips.
She delved to find a replacement image but it was tough going trying to get Luke to open up about himself. On general subjects he was capable of being provoked into something bordering on eloquence but when it came to the personal stuff he retreated into his awkward shell.
She did manage to patch together the picture of an orphaned only child who became an adopted only child, then a conscientious student who had set himself a series of goals towards which he had worked with relentless dedication. Not for him the usual wild student frivolities. He had lived at home and, while his adoptive parents had been comfortably well off and prepared to pay generously for his education, they’d believed strongly in the work ethic, so that Luke had had to work at a variety of jobs while he was studying, to help ease the burden of his keep. Rosalind lazily admitted that since she was old enough to do walk-ons she had only ever worked in the theatre.
‘And loved every minute of it,’ she sighed. ‘Up until now, anyway.’
She bit her lip as the self-pitying words slipped out, and Luke rolled onto his side, propping his temple on a loose fist. ‘What’s so different now?’
Rosalind looked straight up at the cloudless sky. Her mouth went dry at the thought of saying it...as dry as it had felt the last few times she’d been on stage, in those awful moments when her mind had gone totally blank, so that she hadn’t even been able to remember what play she was in, let alone what her next lines were. All she had been conscious of was those eyes trained on her from the darkened auditorium—the eyes of friends, fans, strangers—and one stranger in particular who might be out there, watching, waiting for a word or gesture or a look which his psychosis could interpret as an invitation to fulfil his frightening fantasies...
‘Oh, just a slight crisis of confidence. I’ll get over it,’ she forced herself to say lightly, with mote optimism than she felt.
‘Did you say confidence or conscience?’
She turned her head sharply. In spite of the increasing heat he hadn’t replaced his hat or sunglasses, but the palm fronds stirring overhead dappled his sun-burnished face with fluttering shadows that made his expression difficult to read.
‘Confidence,’ she articulated, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he still had water in his ears. ‘I was talking about my stage confidence. When you’re out there in front of an audience you have to be able to submerge yourself in the role. Once you start letting other things intrude you’re in trouble. And worrying about whether you’re going to have a panic attack in the middle of a performance can become a self-fulfilling prophecy—’
She broke off. She hadn’t meant to reveal so much. She hadn’t even spoken of her career concerns to her twin. She was tough, determined, a seasoned professional. She had expected to bounce back from adversity with her customary swift resilience. But what if she didn’t?
She rolled over onto her stomach, burying her face in her folded arms to conceal the fleeting self-doubt which might be evident on her expressive features. She forced herself back into the role of carefree companion, her voice muffled as she said lightly, ‘Speaking of confidence, you seemed to have plenty out there on the water. Now you’ve got to build on that image.
‘The time-honoured ploy of the beach flirt is offering to rub sunscreen onto a woman’s back. It gives you the chance to sound sexy and caring, and if she accepts then you can practically guarantee she’s interested. But don’t make the mistake of groping. The first time should be sensuous yet brisk. Your aim is to show her you’re a man she can trust...’
There was a silence, several heartbeats long.
‘Are you asking me to apply your sunscreen for you?’ he said, in a distinctly edgy tone.
Rosalind grinned into her towel, her spirits revived. ‘Well, I’m sure you need the practice and I’m prepared to sacrifice myself for the greater good of womankind,’ she mocked. ‘I’ll even give you a critique when you’re done! For a start you could show some enthusiasm. Try and sound eager to get your hands on my body...’
‘Does your throat count?’ he delighted her by muttering.
