Dirty Movies (17 page)

‘Calm down e
veryone, it’s a fake!’ she cried.

‘Wha...?’ Rachel followed Polly’s gaze. ‘Why Lucas
, you little devil!’

‘Sorry honey, my bad
,’ gasped Michael, arriving on the scene. ‘I just had this thing shipped over from the states for Lucas. He’s pretty excited about it. Let me buy you a round of drinks to make up for it.’

‘Shouldn’t he be in beddy-bies?’ said Fifi, pulling twigs from her fringe and shooting Michael a sizzling
hot glance. In her opinion, little boys should be neither seen nor heard, especially when they were diverting good flirting time away from her.

‘Not yet
,’ he said, squeezing the boy’s shoulder. ‘You’re giving mom some space right now, aren’t you? Lily’s getting those production notes up to speed.’

‘Where’s Maisie?’ asked Polly suddenly. It
sounded like an accusation and everyone turned to stare at her.

‘Stephe
n demanded a last minute rehearsal with the new script rewrites. They’re still at location.’

‘Of course she is. I knew that already, how silly of me
,’ said Polly blushing.

‘I’ll go order those drinks, shall I? I think we’ve pestered you enough for one night. I’ll see y’all b
right and early tomorrow, ladies.’

They watched him steer the little boy towards the bar.

‘Lucky Lucas,’ sighed Fifi enviously. ‘Michael Wilson can buy me pressies any day of the week’

‘Preferably ones that are eight inches long and vibrate
,’ muttered Rachel staring straight at Polly.

Terrorising production office employees with fake tarantulas proved to be as exhausting as it was exhilarating, and before long, Michael was guiding Lucas back upstairs. The little boy was so whacked it was like steering a Shetland pony in ice skates. He kept stumbling on the sweeping outdoor staircase and nose-diving into the creeper.

Reaching Lily’s floor, Michael paused for a moment outside her room. Soft ochre light wasn’t the only thing seeping underneath the door. There was no mistaking Vincent’s loathsome snarl.

‘What the fuck is he doing with the yank, Lily?’

‘I was desperate. I needed to finish these notes. I’m sorry
Vincent, it won’t happen again.’

Lily sounded petrified. How dare Vincent intimidate her like that
, thought Michael, launching himself at the handle.

‘If my son ends up with an American accent, I’ll kill you
.’

His palm slid off the metal as if caked in WD40. In a daze
, he glanced at Lucas but the little boy was happily engrossed in a cockroach climbing the adjoining wall. It can’t be true, thought Michael wildly. That bastard couldn’t be Lucas’ father.

Just then
, there were the sounds of a desk lamp smashing and heavy footsteps.

Heavy footsteps heading straight towards him.

As quick as flash
, he hopped across the corridor and immersed himself in Lucas’s cockroach. He heard the door open, followed by a pause. He could feel Vincent scorching two piggy-eyed holes in the back of his Ralph Lauren shirt.

‘Michael
.’ There was a beat. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’

‘Vincent
,’ he replied, with equal disdain.

The Producer nodded in Lucas’ direction. ‘What’s this? A new vocation? Good to see you’ve finally decided to leave this tricky mo
vie-making stuff to the experts.’

‘On the contrary
,’ snapped Michael. ‘Babysitting Lucas is a damn sight easier than chivvying you and Stephen through a shoot.’

Vincent’s face tightened and he took a menacing step forward.

‘One of these days, Mr Wilson, i’m going to crush you like...like...’ Unfortunately Lucas’ cockroach chose that very moment to dart sideways into perilous squishing territory. Vincent took a furious swipe at it, his fist a demolition crane at full swing, and there was an ominous crunch, much like the demise of a chocolate digestive. Shooting Michael an exultant look, he stalked off back down the corridor wiping his fist on his leg.

Lucas let out a wail and sank to his knees to examine the broken fragments of the bug. What an asshole
, thought Michael furiously. Vincent must have taken parenting lessons from his father. He bent down next to the boy and tried not to gag at the colourless goo oozing out of the decimated cockroach. 

‘Hey Lucas
,’ he whispered, thinking quickly. ‘Did you know cockroaches are the superheroes of the insect world?’

Lucas shook his tear-stained face,
a similar goo now oozing out of his left nostril. ‘Don’t believe you,’ he whimpered.

‘What’s Spiderman’s secret weapon?’

Lucas sniffed. ‘Stringy cobweb thingy’s.’

‘And Superman’s?’

‘X-Ray spectaquales.’

‘Look down
, Lucas, and tell me what you see.’

As if by magic
, the terracotta tiles were awash with dozens of miniscule, squirming, ghost-white cockroaches. Lucas looked up at Michael in amazement.

‘Sometimes girl cockroaches make loads of babies at the point of erm going to heaven
,’ he explained hastily. ‘Pretty cool, huh? Bet Clark Kent wishes he could do that in his telephone booth.’

Thank god Vincent had punctured the cockroach’s birth sac with his fist
, reflected Michael. Inadvertently, the prick had gone and done something right for once. Hugging Lucas tightly, he ignored another trail of goo on his right shoulder.  ‘How ‘bout we go tell your mom about it?’

Lucas nodded but he never once took his eyes off the impromptu cockroach maternity unit in the corridor.

‘Hey Lily, did you finish your notes ok?’ called out Michael, keeping his voice light as they entered her room and trying not to stare at the vast, Vincent-shaped dent in the duvet’s counterpane.

‘Nearly
,’ she lied, swooping in from the bathroom. ‘Lucas darling, it’s so late. You must be shattered.’

You too
, thought Michael, noting her red nose and swollen eyelids. ‘Have you much more to go?’

‘Oh, only another hour or so
.’

‘Then you need your nanny here to settle Lucas
,’ he said firmly, backing out of the door.

Storming into the bar
, he headed straight for Charlene. The young Australian was a mess. She had more holes in her nose than the pool table she was dancing on and she appeared to be modelling herself on Venus De Milo’s ‘less is most definitely best’ approach to clothing. Wearing a purple bikini three sizes two small, her bronzed boobs were bouncing about all over the place.

‘Are you Lily’s nanny?’ he demanded, ignoring the
well wishes being hailed at him from all around.

Charlene glared down at him from the pool table with all the insolence of a roomful of ASBO candidates.

‘Ye-ah, what’s it to you?’ 

He took one look at her pouting, petulant
lower lip and lost his temper. ‘I want you back upstairs pronto. Lily needs to work and Lucas needs a babysitter. I assume that’s what you’re here to do?’

‘Piss off! You don’t pay my wages
.’

Michael grabbed her arm then and yanked her off the table. ‘Neither will Lily if you don’t get your ass in gear. I’ll be only too happy to have a word with my father’s connection at the British Embassy
too. Shouldn’t be tough to get your working visa revoked.’

Charlene’s teenage impudence fizzled out in a flash.

‘Oh alright, I’m coming,’ she snapped, stuffing her left boob back into her bikini, but as she made to follow she tripped over the Prop Master’s foot and pitched headfirst into Michael’s chest. Feeling a probing hand on his bum, he tensed and pushed her away. Charlene stank of cut-price booze, stale sex and cheap tricks. 

‘Sor-
rey,
’ she giggled.

‘Here
,’ he said, thrusting a wad of Dirhams and a tube of juicy fruit at her. ‘You have exactly five minutes to sort yourself out. I suggest a double espresso, a shower and a personality change but I won’t expect miracles.’

Surprisingly, Charlene’s lower lip started to wobble
then.

‘Ah zip it honey
,’ he said harshly, turning to leave. ‘Save the crocodile tears for Mick Dundee but i’m betting he’d run a mile too. There aren’t many scarier sights than you lurking in the Australian Outback!’

Invoking Boss’ privileges, Michael insisted that Lily sack the rest of the evening off and join him for a drink in the bar, especially once a sulking, hiccupping nanny was re-installed in the adjoining bedroom. The gentle script supervisor was still making her excuses as he parked her on a bar stool next to him and ordered two whiskeys.

‘Hush Lily, the last section of the production report can wait
,’ he said softly. ‘It’s ultimately for my benefit anyway and I, for one, have no interest in finding how under-scheduled and over-budget we are tonight. Think of it as a once in a lifetime get-outta-deadline opportunity.’ He indicated to the glass in front of her. ‘Now drink.’

‘But I don’t want to
,’ she protested. ‘I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol since Lucas was born.’

‘Well
, here’s to a night of breaking conventions then.’

Michael knocked his back in one hit. There was really only one reason why
he had invited her for a drink. Fuck etiquette, he thought bleakly. Suddenly, he couldn’t bear the pomp and ceremony of dressing up something so important with small talk.

‘How long have you been sleeping with Vincent?’

It slipped out almost as an after-thought, like he was offering Lily a bowl of peanuts to go with her untouched glass of whiskey. Once he’d said it, however, he didn’t dare look at her. As a result, he missed every last iota of colour draining from her face - a knocked TV contrast button in his tactless fingers.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about
,’ she whispered.

‘Cut the crap Lily. I overheard Vincent in your
room. I know he’s Lucas’ father.’ He was surprised how angry he sounded.  Lily nearly toppled off the stool with fright.

‘Please Michael, please. You c
an’t tell anyone. He’ll ruin us.’ She sounded delirious, kneading his arm with her ice-cold fingers. 

Michael took one look at her terrified face and was overcome with
remorse. He was no better than Vincent bludgeoning that cockroach.

‘Honey stop, I won’t tell a soul. I only mentioned it ‘cos I wanted to force my services as agony uncle, slash, nosy parker on you
.’ He put his arm around her. ‘Aw shit. I thought you might need someone to talk to, that’s all. It sounded pretty heated back there.’

Lily started trembling so violently
that her bar stool was soon trembling along with her.  She had carried the burden of this terrible secret for so long but now she found herself trapped between sheer relief and blind panic. As he watched, she began to slump sideways.

‘Drink this
,’ he urged, raising a glass to her pale lips. ‘Booze is the only answer in this situation.’

Lily relented and took a sip but
she spat it out almost immediately, lightly dusting the surface of the counter with droplets of golden liquid. 

‘That’s revolting
,’ she gasped.

‘It’s an acquired taste
.’

‘I can’t think of ‘acquiring’ anything awful enough
to warrant drinking that poison.’

‘Not even Vincent as a sugar daddy?
Ah crap, the bar tender’s about to throw a shit-fit. He’s just spent ages polishing that counter.’

To Michael’s surprise she started giggling then but pretty soon giant tears were rolling down her face.

‘Lily honey, are you ok?’ he asked gently.

For some reason this made her cry harder and suddenly she was eking out six long years of hurt and pain in great, grief-stricken sobs. Michael pulled her tighter into his arms. 

‘I’m not having an affair with Vincent,’ she sobbed. ‘It was a one-night thing years ago. I was old enough to think I knew better but still young enough to make the kind of mistake that turned my world three-sixty in a heartbeat.’ She pulled away, wiped her eyes and gazed out of the patio doors. Polly was sat on the edge of the pool dangling her feet in the water and laughing at something Rachel was saying.

‘I was flown out as a replacement to the Second Unit Script Supervisor on GBA’s first film
,’ she went on softly. ‘I didn’t want it. My husband and I had just returned from our honeymoon…’ She swilled her glass and managed two more tiny gulps. ‘We needed the money though. The wedding bills were horrendous. Did you know most caterers double their prices for weddings?’

Michael said nothing. He was waking up with night sweats
just thinking about it already.

‘It wasn’t easy at first. The crew had bonded over the usual pre-production catastrophes and everyone apart from Joe treated me like the new girl in class
.’