Phoenix Falling (10 page)

Val turned sideways in her overstuffed chair so that her legs draped over one arm. Petite and curvy, she looked more like someone who should be jumping out of a cake than a razor-brained lawyer. "Same old, same old. I'm getting pretty tired of celibacy, but I haven't seen anyone to tempt me from it in months."

"This is sounding serious."

Val closed her eyes, her levity dropping away to reveal bleak unhappiness. "It is, Rainey. I've begun to think I'm incapable of having a healthy, normal relationship."

"Nonsense. You're warm, smart, funny, and kind. You have plenty of friends who value you deeply. You just haven't found the right man."

"Therein lies the problem," Val said self-mockingly. "My judgment about men is terrible. I meet a guy who seems different—nice, devoted, interested in a relationship—and sure as God made little yellow canaries, he'll turn out to be an alcoholic, or in love with his ex-wife, or a compulsive Don Juan, or some other kind of loser."

Rainey had heard enough about Val's boyfriends over the years to know that was true. "I wish I could say something useful, but my own track record is nothing great."

"Better than mine." Val stroked the calico cat that had joined her in the chair. "Celibacy does have its points. It's nice not to have my emotions roller-coastering all the time, and with two cats, I don't have to sleep alone."

They drifted into easy conversation as they'd done regularly for the past quarter of a century. In the months since Rainey's separation, they'd talked even more than usual, because Val had the time, the willingness, and the understanding Rainey had needed. It would have been harder to talk with Kate Corsi, who'd been bubbling with happiness since her remarriage the year before.

They progressed from ice cream to chardonnay and were deep in a discussion about aromatherapy when Rainey's cell phone rang. She wrinkled her nose as she pulled it from her pocket. "I suppose I'd better answer this. Hello?"

"Hi, Raine." It was Emmy. "There's good news and bad news. What's your preference?"

She frowned at the tension in Emmy's voice. "Start with the good news."

"The CAT scans for your grandfather are on their way to New York by special courier. Dr. Jackson should be able to study them first thing in the morning."

"Definitely good. What's the bad news?"

Emmy took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant again. I've made it to the fourth month, but my doctor says I can't go on location with you. The work is too strenuous. I might lose this one, too, if I don't take it really, really easy."

Rainey bit back an oath. Emmy was her right hand, and she'd been counting on her help during the shooting. But Emmy had already miscarried twice, and she and her husband wanted this child desperately. Putting enthusiasm into her voice, she said, "That's wonderful news! Since you're four months along, I'm sure this baby will make it to term, but of course you can't take any risks."

Emmy's voice caught. "I'm sorry to let you down, Rainey. We weren't going to try again until after
Centurion
was shot, but well, things happen."

Rainey felt a powerful, unworthy stab of envy. How marvelous it would be to have a loving husband who wanted children. Well, Emmy deserved that. "Location work is brutal. Your doctor is right to put it off limits. I can find another assistant, even though she won't be as good as you."

"I can still handle the Los Angeles office. Will that help?"

"That will be wonderful, as long as you don't work too hard. Maybe we can have calls and mail forwarded to your place so you can work at home and get as much rest as you need."

"That would be great." Emmy sniffled back tears. "Damn, ever since I got pregnant I'm crying all the time. Thanks for being so understanding, Rainey. I was almost afraid to tell you."

"Babies come before business. Give David a hug and my heartiest congratulations." Rainey sighed as she said good-bye and shut down her phone.

"I gather that Emmy is pregnant and grounded?" Val asked.

Rainey nodded. "Wonderful for her, of course, but terrible timing from my point of view. I was counting on her to watch my back while we're shooting. At least she'll still be running the business office, but now I have to find a good location assistant."

"You've overcome far worse obstacles than losing an assistant." Val refreshed the wine in their glasses. "Have some more chardonnay to mitigate the shock. Or does this call for a second round of fudge sauce?"

"Things aren't quite that bad." Rainey gazed at her friend through the balloon of her wineglass. Nice to have Val to commiserate with her.

Wait, a minute,
Val
. The idea was absurd—or maybe a stroke of genius. "Will you take Emmy's place, Val?"

"Me!" Val's voice rose to a squeak. "That's absurd. I'm a lawyer, not a moviemaker. There must be herds of personal assistants who'd jump at the chance to work with you. People with production experience."

Warm with wine and excitement, Rainey swung her feet from the sofa to the floor and leaned forward earnestly. "Don't underestimate your experience. You've visited me on plenty of movie sets, you've been my sounding board while I prepped
Centurion
, and you're one of the best organized people I've ever met."

"I've got a job here! I can't just flit off."

"It's only a couple of months. Didn't you say earlier that you have a ton of unused vacation and sick time?" Rainey grinned wickedly. "Time to fish or cut bait, Valentine. You're always complaining about how much you hate being a lawyer. Or have you outgrown your famous impulsiveness?"

"I hope not, but... but what about my cats?" Val clutched the calico so close that it meowed and slithered from her lap.

"That's really feeble. Leave them with Kate and Donovan—they adore cats and wouldn't mind a couple more for a few weeks. I think you'd be terrific at the production end of moviemaking. In fact, you already are—I'd never have gotten through the prep as quickly without your help."

Val ran a hand through her hair, standing the red curls on end. "This is a rotten trick, Rainey. You're handing me a golden opportunity, and if I don't take it, I'll forever lose the right to complain about my job."

"This is pure selfishness, not a golden opportunity. I'd just really like to have you there." Rainey's teasing faded. "Making this movie with Kenzie will probably be the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm going to need someone who doesn't think of me as the boss who must be placated to her face and cursed behind her back. I need a friend."

After a silence, Val said, "Since you put it that way—it's a deal. But if I'm awful at assisting, for heaven's sake hire someone who knows what she's doing, and I'll just hang out and be available if you need someone to vent to."

"You won't blow it. This will be fun, Val, you'll see. A lot of work, but fun." Rainey smiled mischievously. "I guarantee you'll meet a lot of fascinating, maddening men who are totally ineligible and would make you miserable if you got involved."

"Well, hell, Rainey, you should have said that first. How can I
turn
down such an offer?" Val raised her wineglass and clinked it against Rainey's. "Here's to the movie that will change your career, and maybe mine, too."

"I'll drink to that." Rainey swallowed a mouthful of wine, feeling happier than she had all day. The prospect of directing
Centurion
had just become a little more manageable.

ACT II

Cameras Rolling

Chapter 7

One of the worst parts of moviemaking was the insanely early hours required. Kenzie yawned, then swallowed another mouthful of scorching coffee. John Randall and his native cavalry rode at dawn.

All around him, the chilly New Mexican night reverberated with the sounds of recalcitrant horses and tense riders trying to position themselves to the assistant director's satisfaction. Luckily his own mount was a placid beast, specially chosen so as not to risk breaking The Star's neck.

Rainey, who was buzzing around like a wasp at a picnic, materialized in front of him. Dressed in jeans and the official
Centurion
show jacket, which was a shade of British military red that had not been chosen to go with her hair, she radiated a mixture of excitement and nerves. "Ready to go, Kenzie?"

He nodded. "It's nice that my first scene doesn't require me to say a word. I can ease my way into the part." Rainey wore no makeup except for a little lipstick and mascara. The result was very close to the natural bedroom look he'd always liked best. Not the face of the glamorous actress, but his wife.

The divorce would be final a week or so after they finished shooting her movie.

She looked anxiously upward. "I hope those clouds don't move in. This is the first morning since we arrived with a decent sky."

She was poised to dart away when he caught her shoulder. Awareness crackled between them like static electricity. "Relax, Rainey. You've got a great crew and everything that needs to be done is being done. Fussing will just put everyone on edge and increase the chance of mistakes. Have some coffee."

"More caffeine is hardly likely to make me relax." Nonetheless, she drank deeply. They both liked coffee the same way—scalding hot, milk only. "Thanks."

She glanced up, and for an instant they were caught in one of the unsettling flashes of intimacy that persisted even though the marriage was over. He was grateful to have the moment interrupted when Josh, his sharp-eyed assistant, rushed up with fresh coffee. Taking the cup, he asked, "Why did you choose this area to stand in for North Africa?"

"Mostly because it fit my budget. I had some license because the military campaign in Sherbourne's novel is imaginary, though it was inspired by a real campaign in the Sudan that involved angry Arabs who wanted to drive out the Europeans. One of Queen Victoria's messier little wars."

"The one where the noble General Gordon died at Khartoum a mere two days before a relief army arrived, I presume? One of the famous Victorian military martyrdoms, though I seem to recall that an officer who knew Gordon said the man wasn't worth the camels lost in the rescue attempt."

She chuckled. "I never cease to be amazed at your memory. Sherbourne's novel specified a remote, desolate setting, and this canyon fits the bill." She gestured at the stark landscape. "I also needed dozens of good riders for the skirmishing between Randall's patrol and the rebels, and it's easy to hire them around here. Since they all wear scarves wrapped around their faces, we don't need real Arabs, just people who look like they were born in the saddle."

"You got your money's worth. The dailies I saw yesterday are first-rate. Plenty of fierce, chaotic action. When it's cut together, viewers will feel like they're in the middle of the battle. My stunt double did a good job of going down fighting bravely."

"At this stage of the story, John Randall has the courage of the unimaginative." She checked the lightening sky again. "Almost time. Make sure you don't fall off your horse. We might not have another chance to get this shot right."

"I shall endeavor to stay on my horse." He handed his coffee cup to Josh, and swung onto his mount. "Don't worry, Rainey. We rehearsed this ride six times yesterday. It will be fine."

"From your lips to God's voice mail." She jogged over to her Jeep and drove off to join the camera crews on the other side of the hill.