The Jaguar Star (Tales of the Were: Jaguar Island Book 4) by Bianca D'Arc (the first e reader .TXT) 📕

“This is a very successful first session,” Sonia went on after a moment. “If the rest of the film goes like this, we might even be done early.”

“And I can get back to the time off I had set aside to decompress at home before my next major shoot.” He reminded her of the sacrifice he’d made to do her little film.

“I’ll do my best to let you get back to your precious island,” Sonia confirmed.

“If you don’t need me for anything else, I’m going to go back to fight practice. Greg’s choreographed some tricky moves I need to run through a few more times,” he told her.

“Just don’t break anything or get bruised in visible places,” she laughingly told him as they parted. He went back to the group of men outside while Sonia went back to her filming.

Chapter Eight

A couple of hours later, they were done with Katrina’s scenes for the day, and she was dismissed from the set. They called in other actors and began filming other things while she went back to the costume trailer to get out of the lovely gown that had been made for her. Once back in her street clothes, she had the choice of sticking around or going back to the hotel. There wasn’t much to do at the hotel, so she decided to get something to eat from the picnic pavilion and stay for a while.

The men were still engaged in fight practice in the big field behind the church, so she took her food to go and set herself up on a slight rise behind the garden at the side of the church, where she could watch. She hadn’t taken time to just sit on the grass and have a picnic in far too long, and this little impromptu al fresco dining experience came complete with a show. She watched the men run through their paces in very acrobatic fighting moves.

What surprised her most was that Ren was right out there in front, with Greg. It was as if he was teaching some of the others, not just being taught by Greg. He seemed to be acting as Greg’s assistant, in a way.

Katrina watched and ate her lunch, then made a half-hearted attempt to read through her script. She was careful to stay out of the sun, sitting in the shade cast by the old church. She’d been warned by both Franny and Sonia that in order to keep the continuity of the shoot, she shouldn’t get a suntan or sunburn or change anything about her appearance without prior approval. It was even in her contract.

At some point, Greg ordered a change to the routine they were working on, and that’s when Adela came over to sit with Katrina. She flopped onto the grass, groaning.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Adela said, her light accent charming and slightly exotic. “That Greg is a slave driver. I’m so glad I’m not in every fight scene.”

“You were terrific,” Katrina told the other woman honestly. “I saw the way you kept up with the guys. You’re an incredible athlete.”

“Kind of you to say,” Adela said, flat on her back in the grass with her eyes closed. “But I’m beat. I haven’t worked this hard in a long time. I guess I’ve gotten soft, living in California.”

“I’m from New York, so I guess we all have a reputation as workaholics, and at least in my case, it fits. I hear the pace in California is a bit more…um…relaxed,” Katrina said, not quite making it a question but hoping to draw the other woman out a bit.

“Everything is very casual in LA,” Adela agreed. “I spend a lot of time at the beach when I’m not working.”

“We have beaches, but it’s not really the same,” Katrina offered. “I live on Long Island, but it’s about a twenty-minute drive to the nearest beach, and in the summer, it’s a zoo. I tend to like to walk the beach in the spring and fall, when there aren’t so many sunbathers. I like watching the ocean and listening to the waves.”

“I’m all about the swimming,” Adela replied. “I love the feel of the salt water against my skin.”

Katrina could understand that. Adela looked every inch the hedonist. Or the athlete. Katrina didn’t know her that well yet, but she seemed like a nice person, and she had made the overture by coming over here.

They sat for a while. Katrina enjoyed watching the men do their increasingly acrobatic sword work while Adela reclined in the sun. After a while, she sat up and started making comments about the swordplay, grading each performer’s work, like it was some sort of game. Her ribald commentary made Katrina laugh, and at one point, she could have sworn that the men—or at least Ren—had realized what they were talking about. When Greg finally called a halt, the guys formed a line facing Katrina and Adela and took a formal bow, much to their amusement.

Katrina went back to the hotel and worked quietly in her room for a while, studying her script a little more, though she already had it down cold. She wasn’t sure when the rest of the cast returned, but sometime before dinner, Adela knocked on her door.

“We’re all hanging out in the lobby, if you want to join us. Nothing formal. Just sitting around, chatting and debating on what to try for dinner,” Adela said. “I figured stuck way back here, you wouldn’t know.”

“I didn’t. Thank you,” Katrina replied, meaning it. Adela might turn out to be a real friend, and Katrina didn’t want to seem standoffish with the rest of the crew. “Just let me get my bag, and I’ll be right down.”

“See you there,” Adela said as she started walking down the hall toward the lobby.

Katrina closed her door, a bemused smile on her face. It was nice to be invited to join the others. She packed her planner