Feast of Saints (8 page)

“This Allegrezza is colder, subtly vicious. Smarter. This Allegrezza does not desire redemption. It’s the humans who want to redeem him, and it’s their failure in the end, not his.”

Finishing, or at least enough for now, she stepped back and pondered the effect. Her new concept overlaid the old one, giving the entire board a holographic feel.

“Huh… that’s odd,” she said, angling her head from side to side at the weirdly holographic Jake.

“Yes,” agreed Jake. But when she glanced over at him she realized he was studying her, not the drawing. His eyes searched her face like a man who’d been introduced to a stranger he was sure he knew from somewhere else.

Feeling flustered, she turned back and started to take down the board to put it away.

“Hold on,” Jake said, stopping her. Stepping back, Jake held up his cell phone and she heard several clicks as he snapped some pictures of the board. Before putting his phone away, he rotated toward her. She smiled tentatively, embarrassed, as he snapped one of her before walking over to shrug on his clothes while she packed up.

Buttoning up his shirt, Jake was all business, once again her boss’s boss. “For all of his bluster about the scale of this project,” he said, “it’s still not zipped up. Monty needs to tempt a few more investors before any of us can feel secure about what we’ve signed up for. Alison has assured him she can do it, but without a clear concept, she’ll be dead in the water.”

Making sure she understood the timetable and what was expected of her, he said, “The studio will be expecting final key visual images that express the concept of the film at the strategy meeting next month. That means you’ve got less than two weeks to pitch your final design to Monty.”

Looking pointedly at her, he said, “It’s crucial that Maya and you are ready.”

That he’d lumped her in with Maya, who couldn’t even be depended upon to show up for a scheduled meeting with the director, was concerning.

“Is that going to be enough time for you?” Jake asked.

Feeling like she needed to start to build some trust between them, she said, “Yes, absolutely.” Then, she added hesitantly, “I mean, if you can free up time tomorrow or Saturday?”

Jake cocked his head at her. “Are you going to smear that goo all over me again?”

“Well, I think I can just get by with doing your face, instead of your whole head,” she said, apologetically optimistic. “And your chest, and maybe your back.”

Jake reached for his wallet and pulled out a plain white business card, saying, “The number on the front will get you to Phillip. He knows my schedule better than I do, so call him first thing tomorrow.” Picking up a pen from the conference room table, he wrote another number on the back and handed it to her. “That,” he said, pointing to the back of the card, “is mine.”

“When do I use that one?” she asked.

“I want you to call me at the first inkling you might be falling behind. Do not let yourself get under water on this,” he said sternly.

“I can do this,” she said, undaunted.

Jake’s face softened. “If I didn’t think you could, we wouldn’t still be standing here. But now I’ve got to go. Ready?” Without asking, he picked up her case and opened the conference room door for her.

Lilly felt exuberant as they walked to the stairs. “So you approve? Of the design, I mean?”

Jake stopped in the hall and turned to face her. “Yes,” he said simply, fueling her enthusiasm, but just as swiftly bursting her bubble when he added, “You draw a pretty picture, Ms. Rose, but that’s a long way from creating something that looks good on film.”

She knew he was right. She’d studied with plenty of wonderful artists who couldn’t make it in special effects. Special effects artists were a special breed. Sure, they had to be original, creative, visual artists and sculptors. They also needed a firm foundation in chemical processes, anatomy and dermatology. Her chemical engineering background and experience in Dow Chemical’s medical division, along with her natural penchant for preciseness, gave her a huge leg up in this field.

“I don’t just look good on paper, Mr. Durant, I promise.”

Jake arched his brow at her. “I’m counting on that,” he said, and started down the stairs.

At the bottom, she would have taken the case from him, but he kept walking into the lounge where Phillip, Monty and Maya sat drinking cocktails. Shrugging off the case and leaning it against a wall, Jake pulled over another chair next to the empty one they’d been saving for him.

“Please join us while you wait on your… friend.” Then, turning to Maya, Jake made simple introductions, identifying Lilly as an effects artist working on the film. She politely expressed her pleasure at meeting Maya, who obviously had been dominating a conversation centered on set locations.

A waiter rushed over to get their drink order. Jake ordered a light beer for himself. “The lady,” he said, looking blandly at her, “will have an Old Raj gimlet.” Lilly smiled into her lap as she texted Greg to let him know she was ready.

Maya, her interest pricked by the familiarity implied by Jake ordering for her without asking what she wanted, raised a brow and asked, “Lilly, Ms. Rose, where do you hail from?”

Feeling on the spot, and not sure how much information was too much, Lilly kept it short, “Originally, I’m from Kansas. I moved here after college.”

“What is it that you do?” Maya asked.

With all eyes on her, she took a gulp of her gimlet that had arrived so swiftly it was still sloshing. “I make monsters,” she said.

By the time Greg arrived, the topic had shifted back to filming locations with Maya extolling the virtues of European venues. Lilly, who’d never left the continental United States, had nothing to contribute and felt like a kid at the adults’ table. As soon as she saw Greg enter the hotel, she slid out of her chair and grabbed her portfolio, feeling a twinge of guilt that she was going to break her promise to buy him a drink.

“Thank you for the cocktail,” she said to Jake. Turning to Phillip, she said, “Mr. Greer, may I call you in the morning to schedule another prep session with Mr. Durant?” Phillip looked inquiringly at Jake, who nodded. When Jake moved to help her with the case, she pulled it away from him and shoved it at Greg. “We’ve got to get going. Thank you, again.” Greg, never slow on the uptake, took only a moment to gawk at Maya before following Lilly out of the hotel.

Chapter 7

On Saturday afternoon, Lilly was setting her buckets and tubs on the front porch, ready to cart over to Jake’s, when he pulled up in the shiny sports car.

Phillip had insisted on sending a driver to pick her up when she’d called him to schedule the lifecasting session with Jake. She hadn’t expected Jake, himself, to be her driver.

Lilly appraised the car as Jake slid out. It
was
the same car Greg had ooh’d and ah’d about the other night, she was sure of it. Had he come by to check on her progress before the Culver meeting? If so, why hadn’t he gotten out of the car?

Given how things had gone at that meeting, and how ill-prepared she had turned out to be, she decided it was best not to confront him about it.

Instead, when he reached her porch steps, she said, “I’m pretty sure my stuff’s not going to fit in that car.”

“I thought it would be easier for you if we just did it here. Save you the trouble of packing and unpacking everything,” he said.

She looked him over. Jake was dressed in faded jeans and a well-worn navy polo shirt. Not his usual tailored clothing.

“Oh.” That was thoughtful. “Okay, well…” blocking the door to her bungalow, she mentally toured each one of the rooms in her home, visualizing what messes or embarrassing items might be in public view.

“Just a second!” Scooting backwards, she shut the door on him. She scurried to put away the most pressing items, including the bras hanging from the bathroom doorknob. Madcap was seated in her favorite spot on the rolling chair in her studio. She closed the door, shutting the cat in with the plaster Jakes.

Reopening the front door, she rushed to apologize, “Sorry about that. I’ve got a cat and she doesn’t like strangers.” That wasn’t a fib, although it was really the bras and Jakes she didn’t want him to see.

Jake stepped in, carrying her buckets, which she directed him to place in the kitchen.

While Lilly unpacked her supplies, he looked around. The furniture in her living area, just off the kitchen, was sparse. The walls, however, and a few corners, were crowded with items she’d picked up on TV and movie sets and in salvage yards.

Hung on opposite walls were two large collages created from items she pilfered from the sets of
Fox Hollow
and
Catillac Cats
. They were abstract depictions of the sentiment that she loved most from each project. The
Fox
collage was soft and green.
Cats
was large, metallic and full of colorful and interesting junk. It stuck out all over at odd angles. The hodgepodge of parts included the rear taillight, complete with red and white tail fin, from the junkyard cats’ magical Cadillac.

“This is from
Catillac Cats
,” said Jake, then turned his attention to the softer, smaller montage across the room, “and that one is
Fox Hollow
.”

“Yes,” she said. “Do you think Tyler would like one? I thought he might like the Cadillac.” She walked over and flipped a switch on the side of the frame. The taillight lit up, glowing red.

Jake laughed. “That’s cool,” he said. When he laughed, his whole face lifted – temples, hairline, even his ears – softening the heavy masculine brow and giving him a distinctly boyish look. Once again, she marveled at the resemblance between Jake and Ty.

“I think he’d love it.” Jake turned his smiling, impish face on her.

“That’s settled then.” She returned his smile. “I’ll have someone deliver it. It weighs a ton.” Lilly showed him the location of the little battery compartment that supplied power for the taillight.

“I guess we’d better get started,” she said, heading into the kitchen.

Jake was slow to follow, still looking at the helter-skelter works on her living room walls.

“I’m afraid it’s not going to be quite as comfortable for you here,” she said, pulling out a wooden kitchen chair. “If you don’t mind, I would like to go ahead and do a complete head cast.”

“I don’t mind,” Jake said, sitting in the squeaky chair and taking off his polo shirt without being asked.

She came to stand beside him, the greasy hair gel in her hands. “I’ll send you home with something to wash the gel out.”

Running her fingers through his hair, Lilly thought how fun it was going to be making up the real man, as opposed to the plaster Jakes. She was looking forward to seeing everything on him. As she stroked the gel over his brows and lashes, she pictured in her mind how different he was going to look with the appliances and makeup she had in mind for Allegrezza.

Circling her fingers around his ears, then under his chin and down his throat, she said, “This is going to be fun, isn’t it?”

“If suffocation is your idea of fun, I’d hate to know what you find terrifying,” he remarked.

She pinched his chin between her thumb and forefinger and tilted his face toward her, studying him. “I meant making you into Allegrezza,” she mused, squinting at him and imagining the completed character.

Jake steadily returned her gaze.

“What are you thinking?” he asked after a minute.

“That you’re going to be spellbinding,” she said absently. She stood perfectly still, seeing – but not seeing – him. Jake had just about lost the ability to keep from reaching for her, when she let go of his chin.

“Like a snake charmer,” she said, turning away, oblivious to his struggle. She scooped up a handful of alginate and turned back to him, glop in hand, ready to spread it over his head and face.

“Head casting
can
be a bit terrifying,” she said, responding to his earlier comment. “Let me know if you get at all uncomfortable or panicky.” With her clean hand, she picked up Jake’s and squeezed it.

“I won’t be more than a foot from you at any time, so just give me a squeeze if you feel the need to get out of it sooner.”

Jake increased the pressure on her hand then dropped it. “I was kidding. I’ll be fine.”

Kidding or not, Lilly knew that the process required a certain amount of trust. As she spread the alginate over the top of his head and down the sides of his face, she told him, “When I was in school we all had to be subjects for each other. The guy who did mine was an idiot. I almost did smother, and it was horrifying.

“Not that that’s going to happen here,” she added quickly. “That guy dropped out of the program not long after.”

Just as she had done before, when she had covered all of his face, leaving only two small holes for him to breathe through his nose, she began a litany of soothing words and sounds, keeping a hand on his shoulder so he wouldn’t feel abandoned. When she finally peeled off the alginate mold, putting it on the kitchen counter, Jake’s expression was serene.

“Not too bad this time?” she asked.

“Not bad at all. I’m coming to appreciate why people buy isolation tanks. Tom Hanks has one. He says it’s therapeutic.”

This time, Jake didn’t stop her when she began warming the oil for his chest cast between her palms. Jake found one spot, the still glowing red taillight across the room, to focus upon. She touched him everywhere, smoothing the oil over his shoulders, down over his chest. When her fingers brushed over his nipples, he began imagining all sorts of terrible things to keep his body from responding to her. A car crash. A plane accident. By the time she reached the waistband of his jeans, he had moved on to nuclear holocaust.

When she finished, her brow was knitted in a frown. “Wait here,” she said, before disappearing down the hall. In her bedroom, she took a deep breath. This feeling, working with the real man, smoothing her hands over him, was much, much different than her plaster Jakes.

Shake it off, shake it off
, she chastised herself as she snapped open a clean white sheet and let it flutter over her bed.

Back in the kitchen, she managed not to stammer and blush when she said, “I think you’re going to have to lie down.” She couldn’t quite get out the words, “bed” and “bedroom”.

Jake stood, oiled and much too close in the small kitchen, to take the heavy bucket of alginate for the chest mold.

“Thanks.” She slipped around him to lead him down the hall to her bedroom.

“Lie down here?” he asked, setting the bucket by the bed.

“Yes,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “Yes, hands above your head, I think.”

Jake complied. Sprawled on her bed, shirtless in his old faded jeans, he looked like a Calvin Klein model. His chest was smooth and waxed, which he’d have to do for filming, revealing every rippling muscle. A hint of a treasure trail showed at his beltline. Lilly’s breath hitched, and she could feel her lips starting to tremble. She simply couldn’t hide how flustered she was.

She could either ignore it, or she could make light of it.

“Well, isn’t this every girl’s dream?” she joked, fanning her arm over Jake lying in her bed. Jake lifted his head slightly to look down his torso, which caused his washboard abdominal muscles to pop out.

“Is it?” he asked innocently.

Suddenly, the thought that Jake might know how acutely attractive she found him was like an ice cold shower. That dreaded thought was quickly followed by how absurd it was that she had him here, in her house, lying in her bed. She should have insisted they go to his house. Better yet, she should have rented a studio. If she was going to make it in this business, she needed to learn to be more professional.

Embarrassed and angry with herself, she stopped joking around and meticulously began covering his naked chest with alginate. When it had cured sufficiently to be removed, she had Jake help her carry the mold back to the kitchen.

By the time she had him back in the bedroom, she’d put a firm lid on her desire and shut out the intimacy of their surroundings. As she had been taught, she took her time, rubbing, kneading, pressing, and squeezing the muscles of his back, relaxing him for the cast. When it was ready to pull off, she lifted it gently and left the room to put it in the kitchen. When she returned to the bedroom, she realized he had fallen asleep.

Kneeling next to the bed, she placed her hand softly on his shoulder.

“Jake, we’re done,” she said quietly so as not to startle him.

“Ten more minutes,” he mumbled, without opening his eyes.

“Okay,” she said, and returned to the kitchen.

It was late afternoon before Jake awoke and wandered down the hall, still looking sleepy, and incredibly sexy.

Pushing his fingers through his oiled hair, he said apologetically, “I must still be on Hong Kong time.” He stopped and blinked at the plaster cast of himself, from torso up, fully assembled on her kitchen counter. Lilly was sitting before it on a stool, using something that looked like a dental pick to scrape off tiny bits and pieces of excess plaster.

“Looks like you got a lot done while I was sleeping,” he said.

“I’m going to need every minute to be ready for the next meeting with Mr. Davidson,” she said. Putting down her tool, she handed him his shirt.

“Would you like some tea before you go?” she asked.

Jake, feeling for the first time in his life like he had just been dismissed, took the shirt from her with a frown. As he was sliding it over his head, her front door bumped open with Greg carrying a steel stand for the newest cast.

“How many of these are you going to need this time?” he asked. “I’ve got four more in the van.” He stalled for a moment when he saw who was standing in the kitchen.

“You want them in the studio with the others?” he asked, headed in that direction.

Lilly diverted him quickly, before he could open the door to her Jake room. “Bring it in here, if you don’t mind. I’ll just need the one, this time.”

“Greg, you’ve met Mr. Durant,” she said after he’d set the stand down.

“Good to see you again,” Greg said politely, offering his hand.

Jake shook his hand and grimaced. “Sorry,” he said, picking up one of Lilly’s kitchen towels to wipe the greasy hair gel off his hand.

Greg wiped his palm on his pants. “No sweat,” he said. “You never know what you’re in for here.”

Then, with unabashed enthusiasm, Greg asked, “Is that your McLaren out there?”

“Yes. I was just headed out. Would you like a closer look?”

“Absolutely,” Greg said, following Jake out the front door.

Lilly watched from the front porch as Jake opened all the doors, hatches and engine compartment and answered Greg’s questions about horsepower, torque and handling. She was as surprised as Greg when Jake handed him the keys and asked if he wanted to take it around the block.

As Greg inched out of the parallel parking spot in front of her house, Jake came to stand next to her on the porch.

“You’ve got my number?” he asked.

She did. It was the one she was supposed to use if she got under water.

“Yes, but I’ll be ready,” she said confidently. She had her work cut out for her, but as she put together her newest plaster Jake, she felt none of the discord she had felt working on her earlier Allegrezza design. She already knew exactly what she wanted to do with the appliances and colors and was eager to get started.

Jake stared hard at her. Sleepy, sexy Jake was gone.

“I still want you to call me. Keep me posted on your progress.” His voice was firm, bossy.

“Okay,” she said, cowed. Maybe working with Jake wasn’t going to be so fun after all.