Page 42 of Let’s Make a Scene

“He’s in love with you, Han,” I giggle.

“Can’t blame a lad for trying!” Rufus guffaws.

“Here,” Lucy says, grabbing hold of Reckless Ed’s harness and leading him away. “I’m sorry but I think if maybe you could remove yourself from the set, we should be fine.”

“Absolutely.” Hannah gathers her things and practically sprints back toward base. “Just let me know if you need anything on the walkie-talkie, Cyn!”

I’m too busy laughing to reply. Rufus, Hattie, Simon, and half the crew are also in hysterics. Jack looks deeply pissed off, and that only makes me happier.

As predicted, now that Hannah is gone, Reckless Ed seems more than happy to cooperate, and the rest of filming goes smoothly, although it takes longer than expected as the sun keeps going in and out and we have to make sure we cover the scene, getting every shot in sunshine and under cloud, while the head electrician, Sam, stares up at the sky shouting things like “sun in about three minutes” like a very shit Nostradamus.

“So, are you going to apologize for accusing me of sabotage?” I ask Jack when we finish the final take. My feet are back on solid ground and my legs are shaky. My nonexistent core is also suffering—muscles that I didn’t even know I had are aching.

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t put it past you to stuff your friend’s pockets full of sugar lumps, just to make me look like a fool.”

“If only I’d thought of it,” I say smiling sweetly. “But then, it doesn’t look like you need any help from me. Don’t worry.” I pat him on the arm. “You can apologize tonight… The drinks are on you, posh boy.”

Then I walk off, a definite spring in my step. It seems the universe is firmly on my side in the prank war. Maybe Liam was right and karma is going to catch up with Jack in the end. Still, it’s always fun to give karma a bit of a nudge.

Chapter 15 JACK

There are about thirty of us who have decided to make the most of our morning off tomorrow by heading out for a drink tonight. A bunch of taxis arrive at Alveston at 8:00 p.m. to pick us up, and we pile in while Hattie waves us off at the front door like an indulgent parent.

The prospect of a night out has everyone in high spirits, and those spirits only climb higher when we tumble out in front of a quaint-looking pub in the nearest village. In large, wonky letters, a blackboard outside the door proclaims, karaoke tonight!!!!!!!

“Oh, yes.” Arjun rubs his hands together. “I am about to absolutely murder some 1980s power ballads. You aren’t even ready.”

When I follow him through the door, the bartender looks up from behind the beer taps, her face brightening as we all filter inside. Apart from a few locals, the place is pretty dead, and I can almost see the pound signs in her eyes at the sight of us. The noise level increases dramatically, an instant buzz in the air.

Several people head straight for tables surrounding the small stage that has been set up at the back, the karaoke machine, forlorn and ignored, in the middle. A bored-looking younger guy sits to the side on a barstool, a clipboard covered in band stickers in his hand, and he too perks up at our rowdy entrance.

“Do you have any ABBA?” Simon’s excited voice cuts over the crowd… It’s possible that he might have already had a drink or two; he finished earlier on set than I did today, leaving once we finally had the riding scene in the bag.

What a shit show that was… Although once Reckless Ed’s one true love was removed from the scene, it went well enough. If I hadn’t been stuck on the horse’s back like a useless barnacle, I’m sure I would have found it funny. As it is, let’s just say I’m looking forward to a night off.

“Drinks first,” I say, and Arjun nods in agreement.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks, after serving a couple of other customers with brisk efficiency. She’s a pretty blonde with a Cornish accent and I smile as I lean against the bar.

“What do you recommend?” I pitch my voice low.

Her answering grin stretches wider. “We have a couple of beers from local breweries that are good. I’m a tequila girl myself.”

“Nice.” I run my hand across my jaw, considering. “I’ll take two pints of the IPA and two shots of tequila.” I catch sight of Scott making his way through the crowd, and lift my hand in greeting, gesturing for him to grab a table. “Actually make that three of each.”

“Good choice,” the bartender says with a wink.

She sets about making the drinks, and I’m half-thinking it might be nice to strike up a bit of a flirtation when I’m distracted by a familiar sweet citrus scent. One that makes all the hairs stand up on my arms.

As casually as I can manage, I turn to the side, and Cynthie is standing next to me, her forearms resting on the bar.

She’s wearing tight jeans and a top made of slinky, silver fabric that leaves most of her back bare. When she turns to look up at me, her lips are painted the red of stop lights, warning signals, imminent danger, and I swear my vision goes hazy.

“You made it,” I say, blandly.

She shrugs. “I like the company… with one notable exception, of course.”

“Of course.”