Her Leading Man (52 page)

She shook her head before she could stop herself.
“Oh, Martin, you’re
so nice. But I’m afraid they
aren’t going to listen to you. The regents hated
me
even
before this happened.”

He looked grim and gave her hand another
squeeze. “They’ll
listen to
me
.”
He
sounded grim,
too. “I’ll see to it.”

Christina loved him very much. Even if she felt
as if Pablo Orozco
had just successfully managed to
blow her life’s goals to
oblivion.

Nineteen

Martin tried to keep his mind on filming that
afternoon,
but Christina’s unhappiness and Orozco’s
perfidy kept
intruding themselves. He wished he
could lay into Orozco with his bare fists.
Martin
prided
himself on his degree of civilized good form,
but he understood now, as he
never had before, why
men sometimes took pleasure in
beating the tar out
of each
other.

He’d love to get his hands around Pablo Orozco’s
skinny, phony Latin
lover’s neck, after blackening
both of his eyes and bloodying his nose. He’d
squeeze
it
until the bastard’s eyes bugged out and his tongue
turned purple.
Martin rubbed his eyes hard, trying to
wipe out the pleasant image he’d
created in his mind’s
eye. He still had work to do, damn it.

“
Good job, Paul!” he shouted. “Get the stunt
man
in
now, and we’ll film your death scene.”

A man who resembled Paul Gabriel from a distance
trotted onto the
set
.
Paul gave his seat in the
chariot to him, and Martin lifted his
megaphone.
“
You set to go, Ben?”
Ben, the cameraman, stood
under a date palm
about a hundred feet from him.

Ben lifted his hand in a go-ahead signal, and Martin
shouted,
“Action!”

As the camera cranked and the horses started trotting
across the ground in front of a couple of palm
trees, Martin, who seldom let
his attention stray from
the scene being filmed, allowed his gaze and his
mind
to
wander to Christina. She’d flatly refused to go up
to her room after
lunch and rest, saying she’d be
damned if she’d let Pablo Orozco know how
upset
she
was.

Martin admired her grit. She’d managed to compose
her face, although
he understood how much her
insides must be churning. He felt truly rotten for
her.
He knew
what she was going through. The image of
himself in a comparable situation
wasn’t all that hard
to imagine
.

And she was right, too:
n
one of
this was her fault.
It wasn’t her fault she’d been born with a powerful
brain into a family
that encouraged all of its members—not just
its males—to set high goals for
themselves
and then achieve them. It wasn’t her fault that
her father was a
physician who’d instilled in her a
yearning to help and heal people. It
wasn’t her fault
she’d been given the gift of a healing touch. Martin
firmly
believed she possessed such a gift. He even
believed it would be
a shame if the
world never profited
from it.

Damn Pablo Orozco. He hadn’t returned to the set
yet. Martin wondered
if he was afraid to show his
face for fear Grandmother Mayhew would beat
him
up.
If, of course, Christina was correct and it had been
Pablo who’d ruined
her chances at the university . . .
Maybe the university had discovered her
criminal record
on its own.

But that was nonsense. There was no reason for
them to investigate
the
possibility that an applicant
might
have a record. Particularly not an applicant like
Christina, whose
father was an alumnus and whose
academic record was
outstanding.

Besides all that—Martin huffed angrily—criminal
record be hanged.
She’d been arrested for committing
an act of peaceful civil disobedience.
She’d been
locked up for trying to accrue unto women the same
rights granted to
white men from birth.
That didn’t sound so darned criminal to
Martin.

He comprehended with a start that he was becoming almost as
much of a militant feminist as Christina
herself. The sudden understanding
made him smile

“
Martin!”

With another start, he realized Ben had shouted
his name more than
once. Instantly Martin focused
his attention on the scene, which had progressed
way
past the
chariot’s accident and Pharaoh’s brother’s
fall, broken neck, and death. In
fact,
Paul’s
stand-in
was
lying face down in the dirt, the horses had started
munching whatever
desert grasses they could find,
and the chariot’s wheels had stopped
spinning, Martin
knew not how long ago, but it wasn’t mere
seconds.

In a hurry, he yelled, “Cut! Sorry, folks. My mind
wandered for a
minute there.”

Paul’s stand-in pushed himself to his feet with a
grunt audible even
to Martin, who was yards away,
and commenced sneezing the dust out of his
nostrils.
Martin was ashamed that he’d let his personal
problems
interfere with his job. Such a thing had very
rarely happened; he
swore it wouldn’t happen again.

After tomorrow he could devote his entire attention
to Christina and
that damned universi
ty.

And Pablo. He intended to focus some attention
on Pablo Orozco, as
well. If he
could manage it. And
if he determined for certain that Pablo was
responsible
for Christina’s troubles, the actor would never
pull another stunt
like this. In fact, if
Martin
could
manage it, Pablo
Orozco would be looking for another
line of work entirely. The picture
industry didn’t
need slimy creatures like Orozco sullying it.
Pictures
got
enough bad press already
.

After what seemed like several centuries, but
which was only a
couple of hours, Martin called
“Cut!” for the last time that day.

Ben and his assistant cameramen stopped cranking.
Paul Gabriel,
looking tired and dusty and out of
sorts, bellowed, “Thank God! “

Christina’s grandmother muttered, “Amen to
that.”

Christina herself guessed she was glad that she’d
finally have Martin
to herself for a little while, although
she feared they’d only talk about her
disappointment,
and she was sick of thinking about it.
With a sigh, she stood and
folded her fan. The
box of dates Paul had given her, and upon which
she and her
grandmother had made such inroads that
morning, still sat, now neglected, on
the table between
the two ladies. Christina picked it up, although
the idea of eating a
date at the moment made her
stomach hurt.

The idea of eating anything at all, especially
dinner,
gave
her an even greater qualm. She’d do it
though, in order to keep Pablo Orozco
from knowing
how much he’d hurt her.

“
I wonder if your young man will be able to
do
anything about that damned university.”

Christina glanced at her grandmother. She’d
bee
n
wondering the same thing—and coming up
blank.
What
could Martin do? The crows had cawed. She
was done for. “I don’t
know.”
‘

Gran struggled to her feet, using her cane as a
lever. “Grmph. Well,
he’s a smart fellow. I imagine
that if anyone can do it, he can.”

Staring in shock at her usually disapproving and
disagreeable
grandmother, Christina felt like sticking
a finger in her ear and cleaning it
out. Had Gran
honestly said something nice about someone? Hoping
she’d heard
correctly, she said, “I’m sure you’re
right.”

Gran gave a sharp nod before hobbling off in the
direction of the
resort. “I know I’m right. I only hope
he has enough clout and money to make
those idiots
at the university change their collective
minds.”

Good heavens, what did this mean? Christina was
so amazed by her
grandmother’s attitude toward Martin
that she almost forgot to walk to the
resort
herself.
She stood there, stunned, for a moment before her
grandmother’s
snappy
,
“Come along, child. What are
you standing there
for?” galvanized her into action.
She trotted to catch up with Gran, even
though the
weather was far too hot for trotting.

Because she was still thunderstruck, she said, “I’ve
never heard you say
anything nice about anyone before,
Gran. You must like Martin.” She realized
she
shouldn’t
have admitted it when Gran glowered at
her.

“
Nonsense! I speak the truth at all times,
Christina
Mayhew. You may not like plain speaking, but I won’t
lie for
anybody.”

“
Right.”

Gran could call it plain speaking if she wanted to,
but Christina
thought her grandmother often went
way beyond the bounds of plain speaking,
often landing
perilously close to slander. She didn’t say so,
knowing that to do
so would only provoke the old
woman and make her more difficult than she
already
was—if such a thing was possible.

She heard footsteps behind them and glanced over
her shoulder to find
Martin hurrying to catch up with
them. Her heart lightened, and she stopped
to wait
for
him
.
It wasn’t as difficult for her to produce a
smile now as it had
been at lunch.

“
Ladies! May I walk with you?” Martin was
panting
by this time.

“
Of course you may.” Christina held out her
hand
to him, glad he’d bothered to rush after her in this
ghastly weather.
“How’d it go? The scenes looked
very good from where we sat. Paul’s death
agony
was
quite thrilling. And I’m sure nobody will ever
guess that the fellow who fell
out of the chariot
wasn’t really Paul.”

She didn’t want to confess such a thing to Martin
or Gran, but as
she’d watched the scene being filmed,
Christina had enjoyed imagining it was
Pablo Orozco
writhing there on the desert floor, his neck broken.
Hmm
.
Was one able to writhe when one’s
neck
had been
broken? Christina didn’t think so. Still, it
made for a darned good scene,
and she was no longer
so quick to disparage art when it didn’t
adhere
strictly
to
the truth. The truth was sometimes too blasted
painful.

“
Thanks
.”
Martin looked as if
her praise had tickled
him
.
“Paul’s a very good actor. He’s
also a good
sport.”

“
Unlike some actors you could mention,”
Christina
couldn’t resist saying.

Martin
sighed and said, “Right.”

“
I agree. He’d be good on the stage, except
for
the problem of his voice.”

“
Heh!
”
Gran interjected.

They continued to
talk
about trivialities
as they
made
their way to the resort. Christina and Martin
held hands the whole way,
e
ve
n though it was a
sweaty business. Martin’s hand in hers
made her feel
as though her life hadn’t turned entirely dismal,
and
Christina
didn’t mind a little sweat.