046:

Austin's Malibu home was as pretentious as the Park City cabin. Huge open ceilings, a fireplace running cheerily on gas, windows overlooking the Pacific, and a lit patio and pool. People Tracy didn't know were everywhere. Most of them dressed extremely casually, some even in swimming suits--- the Jacuzzi was full. True to his word, there was a full bartended bar, and catered snacks. Every available seat was taken.

It was one of those events she felt more than slightly awkward attending. Not that she wouldn't be welcomed, but that she wasn't a premade part of their world. The two industries were not mutually compatible, and she--she flicked lint off her cowl neck sweater, she was music all the way.

Everyone knew Richard. His keen eye had already identified the executive producer and his wife—also a producer. He'd already paid homage. Then there were other actors, crew members, people who would run lighting and sound checks, people who would cut and mix, who would choose costumes and double as stunt people. She took a deep breath, put on her award-winning Tracy smile and plunged in. If it killed her, she would not give Richard or Austin something to chide her about later.

After an hour, Austin and Richard, co-directing and starring in the film for their first time called everyone to the patio. It could have been considered chilly outside, but the way the house was lit up, and the way it was so open, outside simply felt like an overhung extension of inside. They'd handed out schedule's, a thick folder with attached pens.

People were perusing them, as they started to introduce themselves and their vision for their production.

Austin was polished, professional, and still managed to keep that funny guy baby face humble pie thing going. It was very appealing, and Tracy just sat on a low bench next to Redd Kelly, who had informed her he was a Cinematographer--- but she could refer to him as the DP (Director of photography)--- Dip, if she preferred. His eyes were the most expressive thing about his otherwise nondescript features, and they were pulled so tightly into a squint, that even though he could see you, he looked like he was asleep. It was a blind-ishly weird sensation talking to him. He didn't tilt his head back though, and those eyes opened now and then to take her in, so she knew she was listening to her.

"I want to tell you what this film is not." Austin was saying. "It is not a comic book, it is not a sequel. You will not draw on any other film for inspiration. It is not an adaptation of a best-seller, and it is not a foreign remake."

Richard put one foot on the low-lying brick planter box in front of him and leaned in so everyone could hear him. His voice was clear but ran like warm water. "We don't care about audience recognition or minimalizing financial risk, and we're not appealing to an all- male audience ages 12-24. This isn't a made for TV series, although it is epic, and will be filmed on location at times."

Austin took a deeper breath. "Our shooting seasons will be backward, as lighting and weather are a huge factor in that part of the world. You are responsible for bringing your own gear if you are included in that aspect of travel. Timing is of the essence, and time is locked in. So know your scene, and be prepared."

Richard grinned. "And when we signed up--- we were clear about conditions on location. We made no bones about tent camping and the risk of being eaten by a bear." Everyone laughed except Tracy, whose lips had pursed, and whose smile had vanished. Richard actually did catch her eye. He knew. Oh yes, she thought, he knew that he'd glossed over the on location risks with her. She had never heard the word tent camping in her life.

She thought about raising her hand, but everyone was murmuring approval, and the excitement of the project whipped through them.

Her eyes remained glued to the two young director/actors taking on the ambitious retinue. She felt completely out of her league. For some reason, even with the script in her possession, she had had a different initial vision of the film than they were now portraying, in fact, she almost felt like this was a new idea altogether.

They had told her about action, little dialogue, running, swinging up on horses, shooting fake guns. It was a period piece, set in Alaska, hence the name of it. Alaska. They had talked about the giant sound stage on the back lots of Warner Bros. They'd talked about Native Americans and Soldiers, and Inuits and Russians. She'd done her research on those topics.

Now they sounded suspiciously like primitive cave dwellers.

They were going to do a cold read. Meaning they were going to read through the script. She shivered. A headache loomed in the near future. She bit her lips and saw Richard's eyes dart to hers. He knew. Oh, yes, he knew.

He came to her. One touch.

"Are you thinking this isn't exactly what you signed up for?"

She waved the folder at him reflexively, accusingly. "Tent camping? When were you planning to tell me this?"

"You're our girl, Trace. Nobody else can play this part. You're our little Russian Inuit throat singing, butt-kicking heroine. You can do this."

She swallowed. They'd asked her to write the theme song--- they'd asked her to sing in it. But what the heck was throat singing? "I'll need an amazing coach. I don't have a clue---."

Richard put a finger to her lips, his eyes deeply contrite and suggestive. He didn't immediately move his finger either. She clamped her fingers over his and forcefully tried to remove them. Richard held her there. "Do something."

Tracy instantly thought of their training in the gym--- the taekwondo sessions. She bent his thumb back, and he nodded, but it wasn't enough. Her kick was not wholly unexpected, but her arm lock was. He didn't block her, but did let go.

"Prove to me you really think I can do this. Prove it before I quit right this second." She hissed, her eyes blazing and very determined.

"I've already got the throat singing voice coach."

"That's not proof."

"I've already hired your stunt double."

Her eyes darted around and Richard took the initiative and locked her in a hold above her ability that she couldn't easily get out of. He pinned her arm behind her back, the thumb excruciatingly bent, near to the breaking point.

"You wouldn't." She bent her knees and butted her derriere into him, doubling over till he was forced to raise her or flip. He leaned into her back, shaping himself against her, and noticed others were watching.

"Go surfing with me tonight. I know you surf."

"Richard." She was caught off guard by his overtures. His eyes insinuated an interest she had tried hard to ignore.

"I mean it. I'll prove it to you."

"Surfing won't prove anything, not a damn thing, you tricked me into doing this project and I am not equipped." They were still struggling, but had backed into the staircase wall.

"I'll write a song with you."

"That's intriguing, who says I want to write a song with you?" She had him up against the wall.

"You do." He whispered, giving Austin a wide-eyed stare, Tracy was the one pushing him at the moment. What could he do?

"You're right, I do. But I might back out of this film. I've got a kid to think of, and maybe another one."

He let her go. Tracy stepped away, brushing her hands off as if she'd won a point.

"You're pretty physical with me, McCaffrey." Richard laughed low, for her benefit.

"I'm going to see Raine this weekend. I'm likely to be more physical with him, eh?" Her smile dared a comeback, putting him back in his place.

"It's like that, is it?" He tweaked her chin, inscrutable expression discerning her meaning. "I rather thought you Mormons were celibate." He jibed anyway.

She shrugged, putting the table between them, her eyes laughing. "Yes, we are-- and then--very prolific."

"Got me there." He cocked his head, admitting defeat. "But you're doing the film. I already told you I'd help you."

Austin came up to them then, smiling hopefully, gently, wishing to calm whatever altercation they were having and draw prying and concerned eyes away.

"You guys fight like an old married couple."

Richard laughed. "Chances of us being an old married couple--- nil." He held up pinched fingers. "She's taken, right, Trace?"

"I'm taken. And no old couple I was ever acquainted with fights like us. And Richard and I do fight, Austin, I'm thinking maybe you want to find a different lead girl. I had no idea we were going to be gone for so long, and the throat singing, are you kidding?" She blinked at him without the implied accepting tones, her eyes bare and angry, feeling tricked. She mouthed the words, You did not tell me.

He looked abashed and Richard closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Austin drew in his breath sharply. "Trace--- it's a done deal. Please, don't back out now. This means a lot to me. You can--- you can have my Park City house—I'll give it to you. Please don't back out."

Tracy went to him and hugged him. "I don't need or want your house, buddy, and for you, since you asked so--- desperately--- yes, I will still do the darn flick. But I'm warning you. I am miffed that you didn't tell me the rest of your story with it. I need full disclosure."

He slapped a schedule into her upturned hands and then picked her up, kissing her lips soundly, letting her slide down his body in triumph. Tracy eyed Richard leaning against the bar now, a drink in hand. He lifted his glass to her, and she smirked as Austin lowered her to the floor, relief all over his face.

"Whatever it takes." Austin turned to Richard. "Quit upsetting the talent, Mann."

Richard downed the rest of his drink, annoyed with Austin for picking her up, for kissing her, for her capitulation. He turned away as Tracy slid past him, her arm brushing his back casually.

He shuddered. That hot touch, the unnatural warmth, the dripping erotic effect it had on him, from his head to his toes when she looked at him with those eyes so blue, so incredibly soft. Why did she let Austin hold her, but move away when he tried?

He slammed the glass down on the bar and made his way out to the hot tub--- stripping down to his boxers, and sliding into the water between two lovely young things, a big smile plastered on his face. It didn't matter. He had something none of them possessed. When he touched her--- she heard music.

******