Turning Point Page 2

  Cassidy directed her question to him. “Perhaps we can all get together someŹtime?”

  Terry nodded as he warmly held both Cassidy’s hands in his dark ones and then turned to Brenna. “It was good to see you, Bren.” She nodded. Terry prodded his daughter out, though she tried to cling to Ryan. Cassidy, Brenna, Rachelle, and Jacques, holding Rose, remained in the foyer.

  “Thanks for a great party,” Rachelle said, adjusting the shoulder strap of her baby bag. “I’ll see you both Monday morning.” She looked first at Cassidy, then Brenna, and nodded at some personal thought before she stepped out, followed by her husband.

  Brenna stood alone with Cassidy on the front step. Ryan hugged his mother’s hip and waved goodbye to the guests.

  The sound of a car door opening and slamming shut caught Cassidy off guard. She had been trying to think of something to say, something that would convey how much she appreciated Brenna’s attendance at the party. The other woman, also starŹtled by the sound, spun around, turning her back toward Cassidy to assess the new arrival.

  Stepping out of the house to stand behind Cassidy, Gwen grasped her arm, tense and alarmed, but Cassidy patted the hand and Gwen withdrew. She frowned at the tall man with conservatively trimmed blond hair. “Mitch,” Cassidy said, “what are you doing here?”

  He nodded curtly to Brenna as she passed him going to her car, then snapped his attention back to his ex-wife. “I came to see my son”

  Cassidy saw Brenna hesitate, look back, then resume her walk to the curb. She said quietly but forcefully, “You’re supposed to call first.”

  “You’re not alone.” Crouching, Mitch pulled his left hand from behind his back, revealing the wrapped present he had been concealing. Ryan let go of his mother’s leg and sprinted to his father’s open arms.

  Damn, she thought with heartfelt disappointment, both for Brenna’s departure and her ex-husband’s arrival. Familiar wariness rose like bile in her throat as Mitch pulled Ryan to him in a tight hug. Then Mitch’s green eyes fixed on her.

  Chapter 2

  Script pages turned amid the group of actors seated casually on the floor of a set sparsely decorated and liberally painted in green tones. The Vortex room.

  “All right. Let’s try the basic marks.” Director Mike Malley, his own script copy in hand, started pointing out places. “Bren, here. Will, out of frame. Terry, you’re starting here. And Rich, you’re there.”

  Rising to her feet from downstage left, Brenna shrugged her shoulders at Will Chapman as the actor folded up his script and stalked off stage right, pushing past Cassidy as the blonde unfolded from her Indian-style position downstage right.

  Brenna saw Cassidy absently rub and rotate the shoulder Will had knocked into. Will, she recalled, had not been at Cassidy’s home the other afternoon. Clearly he was ticked off about something. Brenna was surprised to see him taking it out on Cassidy.

  Mike wasn’t done with his stage directions. “Chelle, you cross front, but let’s have you coming left instead of right.” Chelle took her position. “All right, lighting check.”

  A scurry of technicians with light meters stepped into everyone’s space, posiŹtioning their meters as needed, shouting notes to the overhead lighting grips. The walk-through would allow the light team to take their readings and check for any overt glare or bad shadows caused by the actors’ relative heights and the lamp posiŹtions. The cast, used to the routine by now, stood quietly, glancing over the current script page.

  When the stage was cleared, Mike called, “Begin.”

  “All right, everyone. You know the mission. Lieutenant Raycreek’s made the calculations. We’re going in, making the correcŹtion, and getting back out again. Is that clear?”

  Time Squad Commander Susan Dakes looked in turn at each of her team, dressed in their Time Squad jumpsuits, a sleek, futuristic black with colored armbands denoting their respective ranks.

  The camera and lighting grips measured distances and took notes for the framed close-ups, each actor taking a moment to nod as he or she would when the cameras rolled.

  Trailed by a grip, Rachelle crossed the stage reciting her line. She held out her right hand. Empty now, during filming it would hold a remote-control-like prop. On cue she now “handed” that to Brenna.

  Time Agent Luria Dewitt reported, “I’ve set the circuits, ComŹmander. ”

  Sean Durham dusted his hand through his blond hair and tapped his script, which would be replaced by another prop, an information disk, during shooting.

  Time Agent Jeremy Dewitt questioned, “Are you sure this is the right place? It doesn’t look like one of Heatherly’s usual hits.” Susan’s reply was confident. “Mark did the calculations him-

  self. I had him check them after Robinson’s last orders.”

  Luria nodded. “Well, good thing I packed my dancing shoes. Looks like our target location is a rock ‘n’ roll club.”

  Rich smiled at Cassidy as the woman stepped up next to him, reaching out for his “file copy”, looking down at the script.

  Time Agent Chris Hanssen asked brusquely, “Has CE Creighton completed the insert?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s our cover?”

  “Lu,” Susan said, nodding toward Luria, “and Jeremy are a couŹple looking for good games. You and Doc will ‘fleece’ them to make them look inviting to Baxley. Be sure to do it where he can see you.”

  “Who’s our target? What did he do?” She lifted a file photo, a grainy black and white of a man in a 1950s-era suit and fedora.

  “Baxley’s your basic time jumper, an opportunist. We’ve traced his interruptions through two time streams. Mostly gambling scams. We’ve gotten the warrant, so it’s time to bring him in.” She looked around at the others. “Any other questions?”

  There was no reply. Chris continued to look pensively at the rather handsome face.

  “All right. I’ll be site coordinator. We have 72 hours.”

  Rachelle, Sean, Cassidy, Rich, and Brenna stepped around an “X” on the floor by the shadows of the crossbeams of an overhead lamp.

  “Mark?”

  Followed by a lighting grip, Will Chapman stepped up to a mocked-up panel, his back to the other actors.

  Lieutenant Mark Raycreek cast a silent look over his shoulder, turned away from the team, and pushed forward on a handlebar-style switch.

  “And…break!”

  Libby, the lead grip, pulled her luminosity meter from around her neck. “We got all our reads.”

  “Great. We’ll set up for the transmission site on the alley set next door.” Mike looked at his watch. “Well, maybe we’ll do it after lunch. Take an hour, folks.”

  Brenna started off the stage, walking past Will’s position just as the huge man turned. As she bounced off his shoulder, she looked up at him, catching a sour expression. “Something wrong, Will?”

  “Would be nice to get something to do for a change. I flip switches and read off-screen quite a lot.”

  “The nature of the beast, right? You’ll get another episode.”

  “I damn well plan on it.”

  Surprised at his vehemence, Brenna turned to watch him storm off in the other direction. He sidestepped Rich, but though there was plenty of room to go around Cassidy, who was next to him, Will clipped her right shoulder. Rich grasped Cassidy’s other shoulder to steady her and guided her as they turned behind Sean

  and Rachelle.

  “You coming, Bren?” Rich asked. “We’re off to the catering table.”

  Uremia declined automatically. “No. I’ve got a few calls to make.” She saw his lips quirk in dismay as his eyes darted to Cassidy. She reluctantly turned around. “Never mind. They’ll wait until the dinner break.” Rich’s smile reappeared as she came alongside them.

  Listening to the other cast over their sandwiches thank Cassidy again for the weekend party, Brenna joined in with, “How long have you lived there?”

  “Just this last year.”

 
“It’s very homey.”

  There was a brief silence as the rest of the cast, Cassidy, and finally Brenna, realized how atypical such a civil comment was between the two women. “Thank you,” Cassidy said quietly.

  Following lunch break, the crew and cast were back on the sets, breaking off into rehearsal pairs as the main set was configured for the first full scenes to be shot that night. Taking this first day to rehearse by herself, memorizing lines away from the distractions of the set, Brenna started for her trailer. Cassidy’s voice interrupted her.

  “Brenna?” When Brenna turned and Cassidy saw her frown, she took a step back. “I’m sorry. I forgot you had some calls.”

  “Actually, I’m just going to rehearse.”

  Cassidy pursed her lips; Brenna fidgeted with the script pages in her hands. “Would…would you like to rehearse together?”

  From the venturing tone, Brenna knew that Cassidy had worked herself up to ask. A month ago she would have not even tried to meet the woman halfway. SomeŹthing felt different though; Brenna found she was actually curious to see how Cassidy rehearsed. She nodded. “All right. Where would you like to start?”

  “I thought, maybe, well, the argument we have in scene 7B about really having to take in Baxley.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “There’s not a lot of room for understanding in the dialogue.”

  “They’re not supposed to understand each other. Susan’s by the book. They get in, they get the guy, and they get out.”

  “But Chris wants her to think about it. She’s emotionally involved.”

  “Susan isn’t. So she’ll ask ‘Why?’”

  “Because the world isn’t all black and white,” Cassidy snapped. She swallowed and took a step back. Brenna realized only then herself that the taller woman had invaded her personal space. “Um, sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Characters get carried away.”

  “Do you think we could shade the argument a little differently?”

  Brenna was intrigued. This was perhaps an opportunity to reveal more of Susan’s layers to the audience too. “If we don’t change dialogue; we’ll have to do it all in the blocking.”

  Cassidy smiled. “Let’s go to the set then.”

  Brenna found herself eagerly following.

  Commander Susan Dakes paced, occasionally looking at the junŹior officer, Lieutenant Chris Hanssen, who stood stiffly beside a

  craps table. It was the middle of the night, and the two women were alone in the community dance hall.

  “Commander,” Chris started.

  Susan spun, slapping her right hand at the air. “No!”

  “He wants to stay here.”

  “That’s what he tells you. He’s playing you.”

  “Just put a tracker on him.”

  “And let him keep amassing his private little fortune? No.”

  “It isn’t a fortune. And he doesn’t want to go back to work for Heatherly.”

  “What the hell makes you believe him? We’ve seen more than our share of turncoats, Hanssen. The minute the Squad lets this one get away-“

  “I believe him. Have you talked to him?”

  “No. And I’m not going to. You’re going to bring him to the recovery coordinates tomorrow on time.”

  “Heatherly has an assassin waiting for him if he comes out in the open.”

  “Damn it, Hanssen, I should have recommended you for the records department instead of reconnaissance when you first came on. You’re not seasoned enough. You’re not seeing clear-“

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  Susan blinked. The quiet interruption stymied her a moment.

  “You had full control over my assignment to this squad. So why didn’t you put me in Creighton’s place? My tech skills are equal to his.”

  “Creighton thought you’d make a versatile member of the on-site team.”

  “You didn’t trust me.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “But you gave me a chance.” Susan frowned. “Give him a chance to prove himself.”

  “Why does he want to stay here? This is ancient history.”

  “He likes it.”

  “He likes it?”

  “Actually, he said he’d rather die among friends than people he’s never known.”

  “We can’t make a judgment on that here. That’s for others to do.”

  “Is there nothing I can say?”

  When Commander Jakes shook her head, there was a sadness about it. Chris Hanssen straightened up. Brusquely the commander issued her final order, “Be at the rendezvous spot. With Baxley in cusŹtody.”

  Brenna turned and walked away from Cassidy. As she reached the edge of the set, she turned back. “We ad-libbed in the middle there.”

  “It was easy because the emotional arc rings true. They do disagree.” Cassidy crossed to her. “But the lines suggest that Chris is turning Susan’s opinion, just a litŹtle.”

  “We can’t ad-lib for shooting without approval.” “I know. So, how can we convey some of the lines without words?” The two women sat down in a pair of chairs near the camera lines and pulled out their scripts to consult and scribble.

  Brenna walked past the central sets of Time Trails, headed for her trailer to relax until her after-dinner shoot of several C.U.s, or close-ups. She had just finished an interview about her upcoming fan convention appearance with Terry. She reflected on the give-and-take she had experienced while rehearsing with Cassidy. She felt like she had stretched muscles she hadn’t used in years. It was a tiring, but good feeling. She smiled.

  “Ms. Lanigan?”

  Am I ever going to get to my trailer today? Irritated, Brenna rolled her script in her hands. “Yes?” But when she turned and saw a pre-teen boy standing nervously about four feet away, she forcibly relaxed. “Oh, hello.” He scuffed a foot against the floor. She affected Jakes’ patented glare and stern tone, forcing down her smile as he squirmed. “Did you sneak away from a tour?”

  He straightened like a green military recruit. “Ah, uh…No. I mean, NO, Ma’am! I’m here with my Uncle Bill. He…William Doherty…um…he wrote the script, and he thought I’d like to see it being made while he’s in another story meeting.”

  Brenna grinned and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “That’s okay. I’ve brought my sons once or twice. You’re all right back here as long as you stay out of the way.” She started to turn away but stopped when he spoke again.

  “Would you…please?”

  The boy presented her with a small book pulled from his back pants pocket. He wiped his hands on his jeans — no doubt to wipe away the sweat — before passing her the small notepad-sized autograph book.

  “All right.” She smiled as he fumbled with a pen, then passed it to her. His shyŹness was endearing.

  “You…you said you have sons?”

  She pursed her lips to stifle a chuckle. Apparently he was bold enough to start small talk with her. “Yes, two. Thomas is seventeen and James is fifteen. What’s your name?”

  “I’m…” He swallowed. She patiently waited. “My name’s Ricky. I mean…could you make it to ‘Rick’?”

  “Sure.” She signed, “To Rick, love, Commander Jakes” and passed it back. “Here you go.”

  “Oh, man! I can’t believe…Yes!” Rick whooped and was quickly shushed by a dozen people nearby. He lowered his voice and finished, “Thanks, Commander!”

  As the boy bounced away, Brenna wondered who else he would sneak up on before the end of the day. She looked forward to listening for the random whoops and hollers from distant parts of the soundstage.

  “That was sweet.”

  “Hmm?” Brenna looked up from the pen still in her hand. In his excitement, the boy had forgotten to reclaim it. Over her left shoulder, she saw Cassidy step around the edge of a temporary wall. Unnerved by the idea of Cassidy watching her, she explained, “The writer brought his nephew to the set.”

  “I heard.”

  “You
didn’t come out.”

  “He’ll find me later.”

  “I was just thinking about that.”

  “I wonder who else he’s gotten today.”

  Brenna shrugged as Cassidy walked up next to her. “I didn’t see him around before lunch, so…maybe I was the first.”

  “Appropriate,” Cassidy said with a smile. She nodded toward the set where sevŹeral of the actors and the director were going back over their placements and workŹing through the apprehension scene again. “Are you going to your trailer? I just spent twenty minutes repeatedly darting after our ‘bad guy’ for a one-minute fifteen-secŹond onscreen result.”

  “Yes, I was. So, did the—”

  To Brenna’s surprise, Cassidy sighed and rubbed her feet, releasing them from a pair of dress heels as soon as she sat down in a nearby canvas chair. “I wish I had a longer dinner break. I could really use my foot bath. But I’m first up for the C.U.s.”

  Brenna could not recall Cassidy expressing any discomfort before and wonŹdered if it was because she had not bothered to notice or if the woman was in an atypical amount of pain. Cassidy continued massaging her stocking-covered foot. Well, there’s time enough to correct that now. Brenna rolled up her script and patted it against her own thigh, snapping her gaze up to Cassidy’s face. “I might have someŹthing to help there. Why don’t you come to my trailer to sit for a few minutes? Besides, I forgot to leave Ryan’s present on Saturday, so I can give you that, too.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I do. I had it with me, but in…I left it in the car.”

  “Oh.” After another brief hesitation, Cassidy nodded. “All right.” She bent over to put the heels back on. With a sigh, she stopped. “Forget it. I’ll walk in stockings.”

  “I think I have a spare pair of slippers.”

  Cassidy’s head snapped up in surprise. “I…thanks.”

  Brenna realized where Cassidy’s eyes were staring — at the casual hand she had put on the other woman’s arm, which she quickly withdrew. She covered her quanŹdary about why she had done something so intimate with a quipped, “Sure.”

  Brenna in her boots and Cassidy in her stocking feet walked around to the back of the soundstage and out the door to a line of trailers. Each cast member had one. They walked to the second to last one on the left.