What the Lightning Sees: Part One (12 page)

I took out my camera and started taking shots of Sandy from across the stage. She seemed to be constantly on show, as if she was aware there were people watching her at all times. It must have been exhausting
.
I pulled out the zoom a little so my shots included Haven. Her cheekbones sliced through the light. She was completely oblivious to the fact that anyone saw her.

She was clearly a little shy meeting the director, but Sandy did most of the talking for them. Eventually, the director stood up and Haven took her cue to come back to our seat. I continued to capture her as she came toward me.

“What are you doing?” she whispered. “You’re meant to be photographing Sandy, not me.”

“I’ve got plenty of her, don’t worry.” I grinned, and I could tell by the twitch at the corners of her lips that she was trying not to smile.

She fired up her laptop, as was her usual routine, and began tapping away.

“Have you got your angle now?”

“I’m not sure I need one. I’m just going to write what I see and not make a big deal of it. As Emily said, I’m not working for the—” she lifted her fingers in the air and made imaginary quotation marks “—New York fucking Times.”

“Well, she’s probably right, but come on, Paris might give you inspiration. Aren’t you looking forward to it?”

She half-nodded.

I was looking forward to Paris. It was a great city. All about sex and romance.

“What flight are you on?” I asked her.

“I’m going by train. I’m not crazy about flying.”

“I love flying. What are you scared of?”

“I’m always astounded when people ask me that. I don’t know . . . what could it possibly be? Perhaps the falling out of the sky and dying thing?”

I chuckled. “Fair enough. I’ll get the train with you. It’ll be easier with my equipment anyway.”

“You don’t have to travel with me.”

“I know.” I wanted to spend every minute I could with her.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” She had drifted off about twenty minutes ago and her head had fallen on my shoulder as the train sped through the French countryside. The announcement that we were pulling into Gare du Nord had disturbed her. I’d managed to take a few shots of her sleeping, which I was sure she’d give me hell for. I couldn’t resist. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful.

“I wasn’t asleep. I was just resting my eyes.”

“You sound like my grandma,” I said.

“You’re full of compliments. Let a girl wake up before you overwhelm her with your charm.” Her voice was croaky, sexy.

“I thought you weren’t sleeping?”

That earned me the back of her hand in my stomach. “Careful, if you resort to physical violence I might have to kiss you again.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” she replied.

“Speak for yourself.” I grinned at her.

The redness in her cheeks widened my grin.

I grabbed her bag and headed to the door. We were staying at the W in Opéra, so not far from the station.

“I think we should get the Metro,” she said as I led her toward the taxi line. “We won’t be able to claim back cab fare.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”

“Of course you do. Or should I say, thank you Harry’s trust fund.”

“I can assure you that I don’t have a trust fund.” Jesus, I was trying to be nice. How could she turn me paying for a cab into something that undermined my entire character? “You have no idea, Haven, so zip it before I do more than kiss you.”

That shut her up, and we drove silently to the hotel.

Once we were checked in, we were shown up to our rooms by a porter. We were next door to each other and I couldn’t help but grin at the coincidence. I liked the thought of her naked in the shower with just a wall between us.

“I thought Sandy would have arranged for you to have a room next to hers,” Haven said.

I glanced at her and shook my head. There was no point responding. She clearly hadn’t managed to sleep off her bad mood.

“They said they would start filming at ten this morning. Shall I see you in the lobby in ten minutes?” I asked.

“Sure, but I can probably hear the television through the wall, so no porn,” she said. She was definitely getting kissed for that. Later.

At the agreed time, I made my way to the lobby. Haven was waiting for me. Of course she was. Most of the filming in Paris was taking place outside. Although there were apparently a few scenes in cafes, that meant being in the cold for most of the day and Haven was prepared to the point it was almost comical. She really didn’t seem to care that she looked a little insane.

“You look warm.” If I didn’t know her better, I’d say she was smuggling duvets under her coat and she had at least two scarves on and a hat. She could barely move her arms.

“I’m a little too warm, actually. Let’s get outside.”

“You know this isn’t Antarctica don’t you?”

“I’m not good in the cold. You’ll be laughing on the other side of your face when you’re frozen to the bone later on.”

I couldn’t not laugh at her. She made it too easy. “Come on.” I put my hand on her lower back and guided her out.

When we arrived at the set we found people running about in different directions, shouting and waving. It all seemed very chaotic. We were ushered to our pre-assigned chairs, which Haven struggled to get into because of all her extra layers. There was no sign of Sandy, Phil or the director. Haven would be pleased not to have missed anything.

The sun was out and Haven stripped off her hat, taking with it her ever-present, neatly arranged bun. “Can you hold this for me?” she said passing me her hat, and pulling out the pins that held the last of her hair. As it all tumbled down, it winded me. I picked up my camera and began taking shots of her. At first she was so focused on getting her hair under control that she didn’t notice me.

“What are you doing?” she said more softly than I expected when she eventually realised what I was up to.

“Taking beautiful pictures.”

“Harry, no.”

I put my camera down. “Call me Jake.” The only people who called me Jake were my family and a few old buddies back in Chicago, but I wanted Haven to use my real name. My friends used my nickname and I didn’t want to be a friend to her.

“What?”

“I don’t want to be Harry to you. Call me Jake.”

She watched me studiously, her mouth half open as if she was about to ask me a question. She didn’t, though, and her lips curled into a breath-taking smile.

“Okay, J—”

“He’s here!” Sandy’s voice cut across our connection and swiftly Haven finished securing her hair, took a seat and opened her laptop.

“Hey, Sandy.” I greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“Harry, we’re in Paris, there’s going to be lots of French kissing. Get ready!” she said as Phil directed her toward the front of the crew.

“Holy hell,” I muttered to myself.

“Like I said, a sure thing,” Haven said. I didn’t reply. She surely couldn’t think I was interested, even if Sandy
was
a sure thing.

The scene that they were shooting was an argument between Sandy and her male co-star, Bobby. As usual, we couldn’t hear anything and so we sat watching, trying to seem interested.

We’d never gotten to see the script, so from time to time we guessed what was going on. Sandy was waving her hands in the air and Bobby seemed exasperated. “I think he left his pants on the bedroom floor,” I said.

“No, she’s really mad. I think he asked her to try anal.”

I spat out my coffee. “Jesus. You sound like you’re talking from experience.”

Haven laughed. “Yeah, I waved my arms about just like that.”

I joined in her laughter.

“I imagine your girlfriend Millie doesn’t take such offense,” she said.

Did I hear her right? “Wow. There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t know where to go with it. The fact that you might have imagined Millie and I discussing anal sex is just plain disturbing, and then there’s you insinuating that’s what I’m into. I think that constitutes a record for you in terms of how many insults you can pack into a single statement. Anyone would think you’re asking to get kissed by me.”

“I was trying to be funny.”

“And, another thing. She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

Haven

Shit, did I piss him off?
I couldn’t tell sometimes. I thought we were having fun with the anal joke. I had difficulty navigating boundaries with new people. Somewhere Harry, or Jake, or whoever he was, had stopped being a new person in my head. I’d forgotten myself. I certainly wasn’t asking to get kissed. Well, that wasn’t quite true, but I didn’t want it to happen because I’d offended him. And
ex
girlfriend? That was new information.

“Sorry—”

The crowd started mumbling. I pulled my eyes from Jake and focused on the crew. People were breaking for lunch. That meant my time to speak to Sandy was up. Phil came over and I hopped off my chair.

“Haven, sweetie, I think Sandy might be coming down with something. She’s not going to be able to do lunch. Mucho apologies.”

“He knows that was Italian not French right?” Jake said as Phil disappeared.

“Do you think she’s really sick?” I asked.

Jake shrugged. “Let’s go and get some lunch.”

When we came back to set an hour later, there were a few people milling about, but it was very quiet. “I wonder what’s going on,” I said to Jake. “Something seems off.”

“Let me go investigate.”

He strode toward one of the people I’d seen operating the camera. They chatted as if they were old friends. I watched as Jake charmed the pants off him. God, he was dangerous. My heart quickened as I thought about our kiss and how easily I’d given in to him, like he had some unseen power over me. It was frightening. I liked to be in control, to be able to predict what was going to happen next. My pants needed to stay firmly on. As he made his way back to me, Jake stopped and chatted to a number of other people, laughing and making them laugh. It seemed he was old friends with all of them.

“Sandy and the director are fighting apparently,” Jake said as he returned.

Phil came over to us, more red faced than usual. “I’m sorry guys. I don’t think there will be anything else happening today. I suggest you go and enjoy Paris.”

“Really?” I said. “What’s happened? Is Sandy upset? I thought she was having a hard time this morning.”

Phil pursed his lips. “I can’t say anything. There’s been a few creative differences.” He threw his hands up in the air. “I’ve said too much already. Please assure me I’m not on the record.”

I shook my head. “Your secret is safe with me.”

When Phil left, I turned to Jake. “Poor guy. Who’d have his job?”

“I think it sounds like fantastic news. Let’s do what he says and go and enjoy Paris.” Jake grinned.

“I can’t, this is a working day. I should go back to the hotel and catch up with some of the work I’m missing.”

“Over my dead body. You’re in this amazing city, Haven. Let your hair down. Literally and figuratively.”

I grinned at him. What was his obsession with my hair?