Thursday, June 15, 2017
First Meeting from Set for Love
As we've established, not every first impression is a good one. That's how it is for Bern Cortland and Paige Rousseau. In fact, their meeting is more of a collision. Unfortunately, their second and even third interactions don't go any better.
Arriving at his destination, Bern shook old ghosts from his thoughts. Squaring broad shoulders, he pasted a smile on his lips and walked in, head high—colliding with a blonde on her way out. She was turned away from the door, talking over her shoulder.
"Dammit! Watch where you're going!" she yelled, dark eyes flashing.
"Sorry, ma'am. You walked right into me."
"I did not!"
"Pardon me," he said, bowing slightly. "Reckon one of us needs their eyes checked."
"That would be you, then."
"Peers to be so," he said, adopting a country hick accent.
A hand at his tanned brow, he bowed her through the door, holding it for her. He watched her strut to the street where she hailed a cab, her short dress showing a lot of leg, curving nicely to a shapely ass. Admiring the view, his hungry eyes took in details. She was about 5'8" without those four inch heels. She was slender and athletic with nice tits and a great ass. Her blonde hair wasn't natural, but it should have been—dark brown eyes and a vocabulary to stop a bus. She yelled at the cab driver.
Shaking his head, Bern walked through the door. "Lord have mercy," he murmured. He caught his reflection in the window. Black, spiked hair fell over his brow. Penetrating blue eyes twinkled with interest and amusement as he opened the door.
* * *
Sitting hunched over, he studied the blueprint. Measuring carefully, he slowly mapped out the stage. Soon, he was so absorbed in what he was doing, he ignored the actors and Brent entirely, until one voice penetrated his haze. He recognized that voice. It was shrill and somewhat imperious.
"I asked how soon you're going to be done!"
Bern looked up and saw the tasty blonde from his first day. She was wearing another short dress with pointy heels. She stood with her hand on her hip, script clutched in one taloned hand.
"Almost there. Brent said there was no hurry."
"I asked for a walk through. I'm not comfortable just taking notes."
"It'll be done when it's done. If I screw it up, the blocking will be off. Another hour at most."
"An hour? I could do that with my eyes closed in like ten minutes!"
"Got extensive experience on set crew?"
"Who needs experience. It's a bunch of lines on paper."
He smiled patiently. "Of course it is, dear," he said, sounding like Sean Connery.
"I'm not your dear!"
"Bet your not anyone's dear," he mumbled. Louder, he added, "Back off, Babe. I'm busy. If Brent tells me the hurry, I will. Otherwise, if he wants this done right, and he does, it's gonna take time. I'm the only one doing it."
"Could they assign anyone slower? I mean, we don't open for another four and a half weeks!"
"The more you scream at me, the longer this will take. Excuse me."
"I certainly won't!" She stamped her foot.
Bern gave her a nasty smile and went back to work. She turned in a huff, stomping off the stage. She found Shaine and Sally, the assistant director, and started complaining loudly.
"I told him to do it," Brent said as he came down the aisle. "He'll be done when he's done. In the meantime, we've got plenty to do."
"I wanted to practice the blocking," the blonde princess said.
"The pit's down. We can practice there." He set chairs from the orchestra pit to mimic the set pieces.
"Not on the stage?"
"This will do. Use your imagination. You can do that, can't you, love? You are an actress." His British accent, layered with sarcasm, flavored his words. He sounded haughty and angry.
When Brent got snooty and sarcastic, it was usually a very bad idea to contradict him. Paige, the blonde princess, gave in, getting very compliant.
© 2017 Dellani Oakes
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