Hearts' Desires (4 page)

             
That annoying Miss Bastian sat down next to him.
No. Don’t say that
, Alison warned herself in her mind. It was u
n
professional. She had to trust her casting crew as she had to trust the pilots! This young girl was just eager to make a c
a
reer – just as she had been herself. Otherwise, she would not be here, where she was now, right?
Right.
Determination was the top priority in this business! And in case something would go off course, well, Alison was not a person to put up with!
             
She closed her eyes and unfolded the movie in her mind: A girl, running away from her convent school in Europe to find the truth about her father, who lives reclusively on his farm in Africa, because he blames himself for the death of her mot
h
er. And while the young woman digs up the past, she falls in love with the son of her father’s administrator, which ignites the conflict.
             
Not a very new story! It was up to her to make it unique and captivating! Her thoughts wandered to the actor who would play the administrator’s son: Thabo McKenzie. He
would join the team in Cape Town. She knew him from anot
h
er set two years ago and considered herself his mentor somewhat.
A nice kid in her opinion.
Probably too nice to ever get anywhere outside his home
-
country.
Aspiring actors needed to be tough, a bit ruthless.

             
The “fasten seat belts” sign lit up.
 

The plane was over the Atlantic finally, destination London, where they had to change – and hopefully all their precious baggage, too. That was Alison’s greatest worry. If something went wrong and they did not have all their equipment at hand, it meant a delay for the whole project. And everything in this schedule was very tight…
             
It was night, and most of the passengers dozed already, wrapped in their airline-blankets and cramped more or less co
m
fortable on their seats. Alison wished she could find at least some hours of sleep, too. But the unnatural position, the surroundings and all her worries were enough to prevent all her tranquillizers from working. Therefore, she had stopped even trying, which would have only stressed her more. She put on her headphones with some
Ayurvedic
meditation music instead, and leaned back as far as she could. Still more than 15 hours to go – it was pure to
r
ture!
             
Vance van Sorel could not find any sleep either. He wanted a cigarette very badly. Moreover, he pondered about life in general and Carolyn, in particular. The first hours he had found himself forced to do some small talk with Miss Ba
s
tian, who asked him all sorts of things. He did not want to act too rude – they had to work together for weeks, after all. But he had been very relieved when the young woman finally fell asleep.
             
Eventually, Vance drifted off in a half-awake-state too. The whispering voices of some passengers and the flight a
t
tendant looking if everything was in order, hovered like a cloud at the margin of his consciousness, mixing with the sound of the engines to a strange lullaby…
             
…from which he startled, sensing Lauren’s hand on his knee. He turned his head. She seemed still asleep. But ma
y
be she only was pretending and did it on purpose. Vance was closer to opt for the latter possibility.

             
Whatever your plan might be, I’m not interested!
             
He grabbed her gently by the shoulders and put her back into her own seat. She did not wake up – or at least gave a good pe
r
formance.
             
Vance leaned back again.
I have trouble enough as it is. Really don’t need a sex-hungry girlie in my bed!
He stared at the dimmed round lights in the ceiling and yawned.
On the other hand,
a little devil started poking in his tired
mind,
your wife is already convinced you hook up with half of the girls in Hollywood. What could get worse if you actually had a little one-night-stand? This girl is pretty hot, isn’t she? And Africa is far away…
             
“I’m no idiot,” he mumbled half-asleep.
             
“Excuse me?
Sir?
Excuse me!”
             
Vance blinked irritated and realized, that he was hanging half in the corridor and thus blocked the way for a man who was on his way to the restroom.
             
“Sorry.”
             
“Ah, no problem at all.
These seats are simply too narrow. I feel every muscle in my body going on a protest march a
l
ready!” The other passenger walked by, and Vance decided it was a good moment to go himself and stretch his legs a bit.
             
The white neon light in airplane-toilets was one of the most merciless things in the world, Vance was sure about that. Showed really every wrinkle and stubble and made you look ten years older!
Don’t you forget you are not 25 anymore,
sounded Carolyn’s voice in his mind, and he sneered at his
reflection.
Contrary to some of his colleagues, he indulged himself neither in illusions nor extensive Botox-sessions. In the harsh business he was in, he was past his prime.
             
“Well, old man, you can be grateful you got this role, so stop complaining about it! Another two years and
you’re stuck
with ‘Grandpa Wilkins on his porch’!” He splashed some cold water in his face.
             
Someone knocked at the door. Yes, toilets were definitely the wrong place for lengthy philosophical discourses! Vance straig
h
tened his clothes and opened.
             
Outside was a young mother with a wailing child, who clung to her leg. “Sorry, Sir…” The woman sounded nervous. “Didn’t mean to bother you…” She bowed down to her boy: “Sheridan, please,
be
quiet, darling! Ma will be back in a minute!”
             
“
Nonono
, don’t
gooooo
!” the little one screamed, obviou
s
ly fearing to be left alone in this strange frightening thing.
             
“It’s his first flight,” the mother said apologetically in Vance’s and the flight attendant’s direction. “He’s just afraid. – Sheridan, c’mon,
be
a good boy! Ma is back in a minute. Nothing will happen to you!”
             
“I look after him,” Vance said, bending over the child.
“Hey, little one.
I’ll tell you a story…”
             
The kid stopped crying and stared at him with huge c
u
rious eyes, not realizing that his mother vanished behind the toilet door. “A… story,” the boy sniffed.
“With dragons?”
             
“Why not?”
Vance lifted the child from the floor. The st
e
wardess pointed at the folding seat in the rear. “You can wait over there, Sir. But fasten the belt, we expect turbulences.”
             
“Okay. Thanks.”
             
The little one was obviously totally exhausted from his fear and crying, because when his mother came back, he
slumbered peacefully in Vance’s arms.
             
“O my God…
he’s
finally
asleep,” she whispered, “I t
ried
for hours to
get
him
to settle down
.”
             
“Must be my magic voice.
Let’s
not wake him now
,” he an
s
wered. “What’s your seat number?”
             
“B-6.
But I can’t expect you –“
             
“It’s okay.” Sheridan was just about to curl even more in his arms. “Just go, before he is back in action!”
             
The mother whispered a ‘Thank you’ and left. Vance looked down at the little face of the sleeping boy and felt a nagging pain of loss in his stomach. Normally, he pushed such ‘attacks’ aside without consciously recognizing them. However, now there was no distraction, and he was alone with his thoughts. He had grown up in a big family; two sisters and three brothers. But for
him
, children had always been an issue off the agenda. First, there was his career with all its insecurity and chaos. When he finally had things under control and married Carolyn – it had been HER career. And then she said being too old for all that ‘pregnancy-and-baby-stress’. Yes, these had been her words. Perhaps this was the time, when their relationship started to crack. Now… time was over for both of them…
             
Alison stepped towards the restroom with stiff legs, trying to put her hair in order with the free hand, more out of habit than a
c
tual purpose. Still one hour to London. And she knew Heathrow Airport! Knew and hated! They would be lucky if all of their crew and equipment got on the correct connection plane! She e
x
changed some words with two members of her team sitting next to the corridor and stalked further.
             
What is that?
Am
I
so
tired
that I’m seeing things?
Alison wo
n
dered, staring to
wards
the flight attendant’s area in the service compartment. There, Van Sorel lay sleeping in the seat with a kid in his arms?! He seemed to be a… weird pe
r
son. But, she decided, better to see him that way than at the bar, drinking! Hands on the toilet door she turned her head again in his direction, not knowing why. Somehow this sight touched her. How gently his hand held the little one’s head, and how happily the boy was smiling. A Christmas scene, a
l
most!
             
She sighed silently and pulled her stray thoughts back in order.
These int
ercontinental flights kill me…when
this is done, I’ll ne
v
er
leave
California again!

Cape Town. The midday sun flooded over the flat airport building with its v-shaped concrete struts. Not even the the
r
mo-glass wi
n
dows provided any protection for the sensitive eyes of the tired film crew. Alison, her eyes shielded by the darkest sunglasses available, felt not only exhausted – she felt dead. But that was something she could not afford to be. In the first available r
e
stroom, she took an Amphetamine-pill, and washed it down with a disgusting tasting energy drink. This should hold her upright until they arrived at their final destination, a little farmhouse in the
winelands
north east of Cape Town! But first she had to handle the customs proc
e
dures! Hopefully, their baggage had arrived safely… and not ended up in Australia by mistake! She sighed. With ai
r
lines, anything was possible!

             
Finally outside of the no-smoking area, Vance lit the cig
a
rette he had been toying with in his pocket for quite a while. He closed his eyes, inhaled and felt as if the world immediat
e
ly became a friendlier place… Every cell of his body relaxed…
Wonderful…
Whatever would happen next did not matter, as long as he had his smokes!
             
“…
Feelin
’ human again, eh?” Jake
Bertoni
closed in.
             
“Yes… sort of… But I’ll need some coffee, too. Or better some espresso.”