"That's better.' Kit whispered the comment, with a nod in Dylan's direction, as he ducked just in time to miss Thug A's right cross. He then feigned a left hook and caught the bad guy unawares (ha!) with an almost upper cut to the chin, which sent the Stunt Thug backwards into a well-placed pile of stunt boxes. Stunt Thug B ran off in fear, or because he didn't want to be caught acting in the same scene, and then the girlfriend - Kimberley, Ashley or Britney - threw her arms around brave Cody and mashed her lips against his.
"Cut...and that'll do it."
"Thank god," Kit said. "I was about to volunteer to help him protect his little surfer-chick."
Angela laughed. "It's strange how it never looks this hokey on TV; in the finished product, I mean."
Kit raised an eyebrow, wondering which finished show it was that Angela watched. "Jackie Chan he ain't," she observed.
"That's probably a good thing; I'd be a nervous wreck," Angela laughed, again. "Come on I'll introduce you."
Kit followed the painfully-cheerful Angela across the lot to where the 'director' was having a few words with Dylan and his co-star. "We'll find a solution, I promise. For now we just have to make it work, okay?" he said and then strolled off, shaking his head and looking as if he'd rather be directing traffic. Or as if he was wondering whether he already was.
"Dylan," Angela said, "this is Katherine Turner, the writer I was talking about. Katherine this is Dylan Thomas. Oh, and Bree Fisher."
Dylan stuck out his hand to shake Kit's, while Bree looked her up and down to gauge something - or other. Kit flashed her a brief smile and turned back to Dylan.
"Katherine Turner?" Bree said, questioningly. "Like the actress."
"That's Kathleen Turner," Kit corrected her. "Or Lana; unless, of course, you mean Katherine Hepburn."
"You're not with Who Weekly by any chance, are you?" Bree asked, as Kit's comment hovered over her head trying to find a way in.
"No, I'm not," Kit smiled again.
"You can rack off now Bree," Dylan said, a lot more politely than his choice of words implied.
"You rack off, toad face! I just wanted to know which magazine she writes for, that's all."
"I don't," Kit said. "I'm writing a book."
"Oh," Bree said, screwing up her pert little nose.
Kit wondered whether she'd recognise a book - in a library.
"I don't think she understands that concept," Dylan confirmed
"Oh ha!" Bree stated. "What's the book about, Kathleen?"
"Katherine," Kit said. "It's called Women in Television."
"Women in Television," Bree repeated. "So, pick me up here. Why is it that you want to talk to testerone-features here?"
"Testosterone," Dylan stated.
"Dick-head - same diff!" Bree snarled. "Last time I looked, I'm the woman out of us two."
Beam me up, Scotty, Kit thought desperately. "My book is not about actors. I'm writing about women producers, directors and presenters, like Margot Whelan, Maggie Wheeler, Mary Waters and Rebecca Jones," Kit explained, making up all the names except the last.
"Oh her. She didn't want to know me," Bree complained. "But you should have seen the way she came onto Dylan."
"Who? Maggie Wheeler?" Kit asked.
"No, that tart Rebecca Jones."
"She was here to interview Dylan, not you Bree," Angela said, while Kit now gave her actual attention to the little starlet. "That's why she wasn't interested in you."
"So!" Bree sulked. "She didn't have to ignore me."
"What do you mean 'came onto'?" Kit asked.
"Will you piss off, Bree," Dylan pleaded.
"What do you think I mean?" Bree said, ignoring Dylan and waggling her chin as only spoilt and self-centred young gals seem able to do.
"Do you care that she showed interest in Dylan?" Kit asked, wondering whether simple teenage jealousy lay behind the threats to Rebecca.
"Duh, no! Why should I? Dylan Thomas is an arse-wipe," Bree said, as if he wasn't standing right there to hear the insult.
"She wasn't coming onto me," Dylan said to Kit, without a trace of defensiveness or ego. "I wish she had," he added, with a smile.
"I cared that she ignored me, that's all," Bree was saying, as if she was the centre of attention.
"Which is exactly what Katherine is going to do as well," Angela stated. "We are walking away now, Bree honey."
"Don't you Bree-honey me, Angela," Bree complained, waggling her chin and her shoulders as she followed her anyway. "Just 'cause you're who you are, doesn't mean you can boss me round. And how come I never get these interview gigs?" she demanded.
Kit took a deep breath. "You have an excellent working relationship with your co-star, I see."
"She's a twit," Dylan laughed, running his hand through his super-blonde surfer-dude hair. "We have all, the whole cast, begged the producers and writers to kill her off before one of us commits actual murder."
"Does she have a thing for you? I mean was all that a love-hate scenario, or what?" Kit asked.
"God, I hope not," Dylan exclaimed. "Um, let's take a seat," he added, motioning towards a park bench that was part of the set. "Bree and I had one date, two years ago, when I first joined the show. She only went out with me, I discovered the next day, to make her rock singer boyfriend jealous."
"Two years ago?" Kit said. "How old is she?"
"Twenty-four," Dylan smiled, "going on twelve."
Forget the 'teenage' aspect of the jealous of Rebecca theory, Kit thought. "I thought she was about sixteen," she said.
"Tell me about it," Dylan threw up his hands. "On second thoughts, don't. Let's talk about the gorgeous Rebecca Jones instead. Not that I can tell you much; I only met her the once."
Kit smiled. "Do you have a thing for older women?" she asked.
"No, not specifically," Dylan grinned. "But Rebecca is an icon, isn't she? That makes her different from your usual older woman. That, and the fact that she's dead sexy and smart and nice. God that's a wimpy word. What I mean is, in person she's as cool, objective and informed as her image shapes her to be. She seems genuinely interested in who she's interviewing. It doesn't seem like a put on job. Oh-boy," Dylan pressed his hand to his mouth. "Is it okay to say stuff like that - like sexy and smart? I wouldn't want to sound patronising or anything."
Kit cocked her head. СКАЧАТЬ