Hearts' Desires (3 page)

             
“The sooner they lose their illusions, the better!” he an
s
wered. “Life is no fairytale!”
             
They entered the busy on-and-off ramp of the airport. Some people recognized Vance and stared in their direction, but he pretended not to see an
y
one. And his expression discouraged anyone who might have had in mind to ask him for an autograph again.
             
“In particular bad mood today?”
Jake asked, patting his back, because he was too short to reach his friend’s shoulder.
             
“I’m an old man! Carolyn was kind enough to tell me that again, before I left! And old men have the right to be grumpy!”
             
“Carolyn does not know what she has in you! She could’ve picked me instead, imagine! Speaking of old, did you hear about
Harker
? He just became a father again, at the age
of 60!”
             
“Idiot.”
Nonetheless, Vance felt a painful sting inside.
             
“Ah you hate him, no matter what!” They arrived at the check-in counter.
             
“What do you expect,” Vance hissed. “I
spent
two
weeks in hospital because of this egomaniac! And he plays
Washin
g
ton! I could die laughing, really!
He doesn't even remotely look like Washington!
Who has cast him for this?
Must’
ve been boozed up completely!”

             
They arrived at the check-in-counter, and he handed over his passport.
"To Cape Town, please."
The young
woman b
e
hind the counter
went through
her routine
procedure without giving any hint that she might've recognized him. Vance was grateful for that.
Alison scrutinized the clerk behind the counter. “You did
make sure
our sensitive equipment is stored properly in the cargo compar
t
ment?” It was a question where you could almost hear the unsp
o
ken part of ‘if not, you’ll lose your head’.
             
“Of course, Mrs. Cartwright.
I instructed the loading crew just some minutes ago. Every safety measure has been ta
k
en.” Just receiving a call via his headset the airport staff member pressed his right hand against his ear. “Sorry, I have to go. – Relax, everything is okay and your equipment will fly smoothly to Cape Town!”
             
With that he was gone. Alison sighed. Relax! What u
n
iverse did this guy live in?! She opened her carry on and took out the box with her assortment of pills, chose a moderate tranquillizer and swallowed it. At least, she had her ticket! But the stress was not over yet. She would try to slow down a bit when they arrived at their destination. One last time Alison went over the checklist in her mind. Then she looked around over the fast food restaurants and duty-free shops in the wai
t
ing area. There was Nora Mendez, the assistant director, whose pregnancy had forced them all to push up the sch
e
dule. Her husband and the rest of her family were about to say Goodbye. Some ‘minor’ members of her filming crew sat together in a corner, playing cards.
Make-up artist Chang was among them, attracting attention because of his orange dyed hair.
Then her eye caught Jake
Bertoni
, her camera assistant at the bar. His voice rang through half of the hall, as usual. He was well-known for this irrepressible cheerfulness. Not her personal sort of friend, but a set needed people like him to cheer
everyone
up and hold
things
together in times of crisis. That she knew very well. Her pr
o
duction coordinator would meet them on location; he had left a week earlier so he could check on everything and make arrang
e
ments. Many other crew members were waiting for them in Afric
a as well. They had been hired locally
.
             
Heavens, there was
that
Van Sorel!
Wonderful,
Alison thought, seeing him just draining a glass of some alcohol.
Hope, he’s not the kind of actor who is half-drunk half the time!
She had heard nothing of that sort concerning Vance van Sorel, but that did not mean a
n
ything. Some folks were just smarter than others in hiding their personal indulgences. Some were particular smart – and their di
s
solute life only was revealed after their death!
             
You are a
pessimist
,
Alison heard a voice whisper in her head, resembling very much the one of her mother. She set her jaw and walked in the direction of Van Sorel and
Bertoni
.
No, I’m a realist.
             
“Good
evening, Gentlemen, how are
you?” she said.
             
“Fine!
Good evening, Alison – you look marvelous today, if I may say so.”
Bertoni
took her offered hand and bowed his head.
             
“Thank you, Jake
.”
As usual, she was not
too comfortable
with compliments, and hastily turned the conversation profe
s
sional.
“I’ve spoken with the loading service again. They promised your cameras would be safe.”
             
“Well…” he shrugged and grinned, “All we can do now is pray!”
             
She forced a smile too. Then she took Vance’s hand and froze for an instant.
It
wasn
’
t his handshake
–
that was firm and casual, neither bone breaking nor wobbly. It was
…
she
couldn
’
t name it exactly for now!
However, the sensation left her with an uneasy apprehension.

             
“’Evening,” was all Vance said.

             
The voice sent her additional chills down the spine. She felt threatened and almost pulled her hand away from his. “There are some things I have yet to take care of – See you later!” She turned around and marched out of their sight.
             
Vance
sighed and signaled the waiter to fill his glass again.
“Seems I’m not her type!”
             
“Don’t worry,” said Jake, “Alison Cartwright is not the pe
r
son who lets personal things mess with her work. She’s a pe
r
fectionist and a workaholic.
Tough, but fair.
You’ll get along with her very well, as long as you do a good job!”
             
“I intend to do so!
I d
on’t
want
Harker
to
spread it
all
over
Ho
l
lywood
that
I
can’t
handle a simple
,
mushy romance story!” He drained the next glass.
             
“You should stop, Vance…”
             
“Now you sound just like Carolyn. Stop eating steaks, stop smoking, stop drinking,
stop
having good-looking women around you…” The waiter behind the bar glanced at him que
s
tioning, but he shook his head. Jake was right. He had only needed a little di
s
tance towards everything, before he entered the plane!
             
A moment, they stood there in silence. Jake watched the people and
made the occasional comment.
Vance
only
li
s
ten
ed
with half an ear. He had to solve the problems with C
a
rolyn som
e
how!
But…
HOW exactly? The more he brooded about the subject, the tighter became the knot, and he could not
figure out
any way to loosen it.

             
Eventually, the two old friends found
seats near the wi
n
dow
and Vance pulled out the info sheet for his character. He had not had much time so far to become familiar with this man, and, to be honest, his interest had been marginal, too. ‘
Arend
Marens
, age 45’, he read.
Ha, they’ve made me five years younger, sweet little bonus, isn’t it?!
The rest of the ch
a
racter description was less charming, though.
Marens
was a
winegrower
in South Africa, fairly rich, but his estate as well as he himself had suffered from negl
i
gence. He was one of the guys who could not cope with the changing times, but lived in the past instead and
drowned the present in alcohol.

             
Vance absently stroked the brim of his hat, thinking of Carolyn again. ‘A piece of junk’, her words echoed in his mind, and he smiled sadly. His whole life was becoming a piece of junk, a shitty hollow performance!

             
“….
hey
, there comes
every altar boy’s
personal nigh
t
mare!” Jake’s voice demanded attention
again.

             
Vance turned in the direction his colleague gestured.
“
Is she
one of
our
cast
?
”
             
”Yes.”
             
The young woman walking towards them had the lasc
i
vious
walk
of an underwear-model.
And honestly, she is not dressed in much more than ‘underwear!
Vance commented without
losing
his sinister mood for a second.
             
“It’s Lauren. She’ll play your daughter.”

             
Vance’s features left no doubt about his opinion.
             
“Alison is very picky,” Jake continued. “The girl must have ta
l
ent!”
             
“As long as she isn’t planning to show her talent in my
bed…”
             
Jake gave him a mischievous smile. “Vance… if you pass – I have nothing against a little visit with her…”
             
Lauren Bastian closed in, evaluating the two men in front of her with an expertise far above her age.
“Hello everyone!”
She displayed her most innocent smile and stretched her hand in Jake’s direction. “I’m Lauren! Remember me? O sur
e
ly not… I’m not the kind of girl sticking in anyone’s memory…” She held his hand just a couple of seconds longer than n
e
cessary, before she greeted Vance.
             
“I’m so excited and nervous too!
Never been on a set in Africa before!”
             
“It is just like anywhere else!” Jake jumped in with all his co
m
forting charm, while Vance remained quiet. “You won’t see much of the country – so there is no reason to be ner
v
ous. You managed sets here – you manage them anywhere! Need something to drink?”
             
“Yes… it couldn’t hurt, right? I’m sure I’m a little pale. I am afraid of flying, you know…” She followed Jake to the bar. Leaning there, she made sure her body brushed against him. He obviously enjoyed it – typical guy with last minute panic! Meanwhile, she assessed Vance. There was something inte
r
esting about him, almost… yes, mysterious. She felt that pa
r
ticular tickling on her skin while watching him. Sipping her drink and listening to Jake’s drivel, she
mentally
undressed the object of her sudden desire. She thought him not only good looking – she had met enough hollow good looking men already! –
but
of an intriguing masculine beauty. And despite his rather pitiful slouching in the chair, Lauren figured he was built well enough. There was this little obstacle called we
d
ding ring, she had noticed on his finger. Nonetheless, obstacles were there to be overcome!

             
Two hours later – which meant an argument with a flight
a
s
sociate for Alison, five cigarettes for Vance and a deep view into Lauren’s neckline for Jake – the film crew could finally board. The plane was stuffed, and they all had to be content with economy-class-seats. Attempting to make
herself
co
m
fortable, Alison a
l
ready regretted deeply not to have paid the upgrade for a first-class-ticket out of her own pocket. She was no particular friend of flying. In a plane, she had no control over the
things;
she had to trust other, totally unknown people to do their jobs! As usual, b
e
fore the start, the AC did not work properly, and it was quite hot inside. Her neighbor to the right – thank God no member of the film crew – took the advantage to undress down to his muscle shirt and displayed some ugly tattoos. Alison grabbed the script already annotated with her direction advices and her
iPhone
. Across the aisle, she saw Van Sorel fold himself in the seat.