See Jane Fall (22 page)

The shoot concept was “Go Green: Transformed
by Nature” and the story was that Sara was an edgy girl from New
York exploring a national park for the first time. The shoot would
start with edgy, urban clothes shot against the stark beauty of the
basalt columns, which meant to mimic the chrome and steel in
Manhattan. Then, gradually, Sara’s clothes, hair and makeup would
morph into a more natural beauty as the landscapes became more lush
and colorful behind her, until she was completely transformed by
the park in the final shots by Yellowstone Lake, almost one with
the nature that surrounded her.

Today’s shoot had Sara’s black hair in a
slick ponytail styled high on her head, harsh, futuristic black,
white and grey tones in her makeup, and monochromatic sets of
clothes and accessories. When Jane had last checked on her,
Shanelle was getting the ponytail perfect and Margot was sewing
Samara into a black cropped jacket which she wore over a long grey
skirt with black military-style lace-up boots.

“I’m wondering if three changes today was
too aggressive? We’re only on the second and it’s already two
o’clock.”

“Don’t worry,” said Jane, “Samara’s a
pro.”

Amy looked at the sun. “Can’t have the
sunset on the cliffs. The warm light wouldn’t work. Needs to be
cold and stark.”

“It’ll be okay. Sun sets later here.” Jane
smiled at the nervous stylist, putting her hand gently on the other
woman’s arm. “I’ll go hurry things along, okay?”

“You’re the best, Janie.”

Jane headed for Sara’s trailer, noticing
that Lars’s truck, which had left the set for a couple of hours,
was back. One of the backup generators that fed power to the
strobes had failed, and he had been sent back into Gardiner to get
a new one from the local hardware store. She wondered when he had
gotten back.

“WATER! NOW!” The sweet sound of her
cousin’s lilting call broke through her reverie, as she headed back
to Sara’s air-conditioned trailer.

“Amy’s getting antsy.” She put the bottle of
water on the small vanity table beside her cousin.

“Useless,” Sara muttered, picking up the
bottle and taking a careful swig. “Hurry up, Margot. I bet if you
had to eat a bowl of chips instead of sew my jacket, you’d move
your fat ass a whole lot faster.”

Margot leaned in toward Sara and bit the end
of the thread. “All set.”

“Ugh! I hate when you do that. You think I
want your big fat lips touching me? I’m not a lezbo, Margot. Think
again.” Margot backed up into a corner of the trailer, and Jane saw
tears in her eyes. Sara looked at herself in the mirror. “Good, I
guess. Took you long enough.”

“You look great,” Jane offered, looking over
at Margot sympathetically. “Great job, Margot.”

“Whatever, ass-kisser.” Sara glanced over at
Jane. “Did you pack my purple lace Vicky undies?”

You mean your favorite one-night-stand
undies?
“Yep.”

“When we get back, put them out for me. I
want them for tonight.”

“Is that right?”

“Mmm.” She smoothed a nonexistent stray hair
and pursed her lips, then turned from the mirror looking at Jane.
“Lars is coming over later.”

Jane wanted to clamp her eyes shut against
the tears that suddenly brightened her eyes, but she didn’t. She
felt them water, but otherwise kept her face as neutral as
possible. “Anything else?”

“Mmm. Champagne.”

“Already in your fridge.”

Sara smiled at Jane sarcastically. “Always
so efficient.”

Margot held out a pair of sleek, black
leather gloves, and Sara slipped her hands in then pumped her fists
twice to stretch them a little.

“And plan to take a hike from, uh, eight to
ten. That should be enough time…unless you
want
to listen.”
She patted Jane’s cheek with one gloved hand, making a pouty face.
“Aw, Janie. It was coming at you like a freight train, little
cousin. You were smart to get out of the way. You always were the
smart one.”

Sara flounced out the trailer door to take
more pictures with Margot following behind. It slammed shut and
Jane found herself alone.

Lars was spending the night with Sara.

She caught her reflection in the vanity
mirror and sat down gingerly, looking at her face. She was still
wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday and hadn’t had a
chance to shower yet today. She looked rumpled, sad and tired,
watching tears pool in her shiny eyes. Her lip quivered as a wave
of self-pity overcame her, and she ground her teeth together to
keep from crying. She took off her cap, running her fingers over
the tattered, used-to-be-fuzzy red “B” lovingly, remembering the
cap perched on her father’s balding head. She hung it on the side
of the mirror and ran her hands through her hair, bowing her head,
still willing the useless tears not to fall.

***

Lars stood at a respectful distance from the
photographer, assistants, and equipment, watching Samara pose in
front of the basalt columns of Sheepeater Cliffs. She looked like
the powerful heroine of a futuristic science fiction movie: leather
boots and leather gloves, with a skimpy black jacket that showed
her taut abdomen and a flowing grey skirt that moved and swayed
with the breeze of the day. She struck pose after pose without
complaining, taking direction from the photographer, and giving him
exactly what he asked for.

“Pout, Samara!”

“Now, sexy. Make me want you, darling.
That’s it. That’s it. Stunning.”

“Surprised. No, not over-the-top, just a
little.”

“Show me bored, but keep it alive.
Beautiful, darling.”

Lars realized, with some admiration, that
she was very good at what she did and it was utterly fascinating to
watch her face change completely on dime at someone else’s request.
It took skill and talent.

Lars was still feeling confused about
Maggie’s warning from this morning, but couldn’t reconcile her
description of Samara with the warm, accessible person he met again
today. She sat in the front seat of the truck next to him on the
way to the shoot, and she was charming—asking him questions about
other celebrities and sharing inside information about them. He
liked her stories and her funny comments, the way she made him feel
as she touched his arm, giggling and flirting. She was a little
forward, yes, but she made him feel desirable and fascinating after
being dumped: it made him want her all the more. It was hard to
think of anything else when she was smiling at him, hanging on his
words, almost bewitching him with her stunning beauty and intense
flirtation.

Having a fling with Samara was starting to
feel inevitable, and he couldn’t deny that physically, at least, it
was an exciting prospect.

He glanced away from Samara and caught a
glimpse of Jane with her arm around a large woman’s shoulder,
sitting on the steps of Samara’s trailer. The woman seemed pretty
upset, and Lars could tell that Jane was trying to cheer her up.
Seeing her so warm and unguarded after two days of cool,
professional Jane instantly reminded him of the Jane he’d gotten to
know when she first arrived, and he was surprised to feel his
unresolved feelings for her surface so quickly.

I didn’t want to put things on ice
,
he thought
. I wanted to give it a chance.

Suddenly recalling her singing along to “I
Go to Pieces,” he felt his face soften as he watched her. But his
eyes quickly narrowed as he further recalled her “ice” speech and
he stalked away—away from Jane and the trailers and the photo
shoot, toward the woods, where he could clear his head.

Why shouldn’t he make a pass at Samara or
accept one she made at him? His body wanted hers, and besides, her
good favor, as it turned out, was more important than ever.

Lars had a meeting with his father and
brother this morning before setting out to pick up Samara and Jane,
even before Maggie arrived with coffee and attitude.

“Nils and I been doing some talking,
Midten
and here’s the thing…we make a lot of money on these
cele’berty gigs, and Nils here thinks you’re up to the task of
taking ’em over. Nuts to bolts, top to bottom. Talent comes to
Yellowstone, they deal with you. It would be your slice of the
pie.”

Lars had smiled at his father, looking back
and forth between him and Nils. “I’ve been waiting for this, Pop. I
been trying to show you I’m ready to take on more.”

His father’s weathered face broke into a
grin. “Son, your biggest strength has always been your love of
Yeller. I always knew that. Your
Mamma
and I could barely
get you in the house at night when you were a little’un. So, I tell
you, I been hesitant to turn over the business side to you. I
figure you’re the best guide and tracker we have. Makes no sense to
have you behind a desk. But, I also see the talent likes you, they
respond to you, and you seem a heck of a lot more comfortable with
’em than me or Nils. So…”

Lars looked at Nils, who stood beside their
Pop with his arms crossed stoically. “You’ve earned it, little
brother. Just see this one through, and we’ll draw up the papers
for Lindstrom Elite. Off-shoot of the regular tourism business,
fifty percent under your control, twenty-five each for Pop and
me.”

“What about Lindstrom & Sons?” Lars
asked, pushing his advantage.

“What about it?”

“Well, I figure Erik’s gone now. It’s just
the three of us. I think my share of Lindstrom & Sons should go
up a little bit too.”

Nils looked at his father, who cleared his
throat.

“Well, Lars, what’re you thinking?”

“If I have fifty percent of Lindstrom Elite?
Well, I guess forty-forty-twenty would be fair, Pop. I think I
deserve it.”

“Even with Lindstrom Elite in your
pocket?”

“In
half
my pocket. And working with
difficult types.”

His father looked at his watch, then back up
at Lars. “I gotta do that pickup at the Best. How ’bout you come on
back tonight. Nils, you too. We’ll finish this conversation and get
the numbers worked out.”

Lars nodded.

His father shrugged into a navy blue fleece
jacket embroidered with the Lindstrom & Sons logo, then turned
back to Lars. “Lot depends on this here assignment, though, Lars.
You prove to us that you can handle these types.”

Lars nodded again, watching his father leave
the shop, heading over to the lot to pick up the van. He had
grinned at his brother who raised his eyebrows at Lars.

“Driving a pretty hard bargain
,
lillebror
.”

“I think I’ve earned it, Nils.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

Finally.
It was the chance Lars had
been waiting for; the opportunity to move onward and upward in his
life, make a little more money, have a little more control over his
work and family’s business. But, a lot was riding on this job, and
Lars would do whatever it took to be sure it all went smoothly.

He turned back toward the shoot to see the
crew break into applause. Samara’s agent and Jane helped her
negotiate the ragged rocks in front of the cliff, and lead her back
to her trailer. She’d be changing into the third of three outfits
now.

Part of Lars wished he could throw a pack on
his back and escape into the woods, spend the day under a canopy of
trees, tracking a bear or a pack, or even just on the lookout for
elk and moose. There’d be a lot less time for hiking and exploring
while he was getting Lindstrom Elite off the ground. He imagined
that there were stacks of paperwork to do when crews like this one
came into town. All of the rentals, the hours of work, the shuttles
and pickups, and all of the add-ons. He leaned his elbow against
the sign that read “Sheepeater Cliffs” with a short blurb about the
history of the cliffs, considering how his life would change. He
wouldn’t have nearly as much time for the park anymore.

But, getting ahead takes a little
personal sacrifice, right
?
Don’t complain you want more
responsibility and then balk when it’s offered.

Samara’s glowing report was the key to
proving to his father and Nils that he was ready for this new
venture, and their confidence in him was warranted. He headed back
to see if he could be useful; he wasn’t going to let this
opportunity slip through his fingers.

CHAPTER 8

Lars wasn’t looking where he was going and
bumped into Jane on his way back toward the trailers. She stepped
away from him quickly, but he felt the imprint of her head on his
chest as he stared at her, and his breath hitched for a second
finding himself so close to her.

“Heya, Jane,” he offered quietly. He told
his mouth to smile politely at her, but it didn’t. It couldn’t. He
was still hurt and angry and he hated it that his body still
responded to her when she’d made her disinterest in him so
clear.

“Heya, Lars,” she answered, but he noticed
she was barely able to meet his eyes. She looked up for a moment
then looked back down at the phone that had been distracting her
when she bumped into him. “I was coming to find you. Sara wants to
see you.”

“Okay.” He turned toward Samara’s trailer
without another word and was surprised when Jane fell into step
beside him.

“I, um—” she started in a soft, raspy voice,
and he looked down at her curly head, ordering his hands to stay by
his side and not reach up to touch her curls.

“Jane—” He stopped walking, his heart
pounding behind his ribs, a lump forming in his throat. Damn it,
why couldn’t he shake her?
She doesn’t want you.

She looked up at him, raising her
mossy-green eyes to his. They were so familiar to him, the perfect
shade of downy, velvet green such that he’d seen a million times on
the trunks of trees at the Bleached Cliffs. He longed to see
tenderness in her eyes—anything,
anything
that would give
him hope, that would tell him not to give up on her.