Chapter 9
Claire came down to give the set her final approval. At the far end of the studio, serenely indifferent to the piles of equipment, lights and shades, was a cozy living room scene. A deep, cushy sofa in shades of masculine brown was spotlighted as technicians made adjustments. On a table beside it was a Tiffany lamp which would appear to give the soft, sexy lighting the crew was working to achieve. Claire worked her way around cable and cases to a new angle.
Tasteful, she decided. And effective. De Marco was pleased with the first spot. So pleased, Claire thought with a mild grimace, that he had insisted his current inamorata appear in this one. Well, that was show business, she decided as she checked her watch. Brooke had moaned and groaned at the casting, then had given in with the mutter that at least he hadn't insisted they write her any dialogue.
The studio segment was being filmed first, though it would appear at the end of the ad when aired. Judging Parks's temperament, Brooke had decided to go with what would probably be the most difficult portion for him first, then ease him into the rest. And, Claire mused as she checked her watch, their luck was holding. The Kings would compete in the World Series the following week, giving the commercials just that much more impact.
Outside the studio, a long buffet had been set up in the hall. E.J., the production coordinator and the assistant cameraman were already making the most of it. Brooke was in the studio, nibbling on a hunk of cheese as she supervised the finer details.
'Damn it, Bigelow, that light's flickering again. Change the bulb or get a new fixture in here. Silbey, let me see what kind of effect we get with that new gel.'
Obediently, he hit a switch so that the light filtered through the colored sheet and came out warm and sultry. 'Okay, not bad. Sound?'
The sound technician walked under the boom mike. With her face innocently bland, she began to recite a nursery rhyme with a few interesting variations. At the polite volley of applause, she curtsied.
'Any problems?' Claire asked as she moved to stand beside Brooke.
'We've smoothed them out. Your end?'
'Everyone's accounted for. The talent's changing.' Absently, she straightened the hem of her sleeve. 'I got a glimpse of de Marco's lady. She's gorgeous.'
'Thank God,' Brooke said with feeling. 'Are we expecting him?'
'No.' Claire smiled at the resigned tone of Brooke's voice. She heartily disliked relatives, friends or lovers hanging around a shoot. 'He tells me Gina claims he would make her nervous, but he left no doubt she's to be given the royal, kid-glove treatment.'
'I won't bite her,' Brooke promised. 'I ran through Parks's lines with him. He has it cold…if he doesn't fumble it on camera.'
'He doesn't appear to be a fumbler.'
Brooke smiled. 'No. And I think he's starting to enjoy this whole business despite himself.'
'Good. I have a script I want him to read.' Above their heads on a ladder, someone cursed pungently. Claire's smooth features never registered she had even heard. 'There's a part, a small one, I think he's perfect for.'
Brooke turned to give Claire her full attention. ''A feature?'
She nodded. 'For cable. We won't be casting for another month or two, so he's got plenty of time to think about it. I'd like you to read it, too,' she added casually.
'Sure.' Mulling over the idea of Parks as an actor, Brooke turned to call out another instruction. 'You might like to direct it.'
The order froze in her throat. 'What?'
'I know you're happy directing commercials,'
Claire went on as if Brooke weren't gaping at her. 'You've always said you enjoy creating the quick and intense, but this script might change your mind.'
'Claire'-Brooke might have laughed if she hadn't been stunned-'I've never directed anything more complex than a sixty-second spot.'
''Like the promo for the new fall shows you filmed last summer? Three major network stars told me you were one of the best they'd ever worked with.' It was said dryly, hardly like a compliment. 'I've wanted to ease you into something like this for a long time, but I didn't want to push.' Claire patted her hand. 'I'm still not pushing, just read the script.'
After a moment, Brooke nodded. 'All right, I'll read it.'
'Good girl. Ah, there's Parks now.' Her eyes ran over him with professional discrimination. 'My, my,' she murmured, 'he does wear clothes well.'
He looked as though he had chosen the pale-blue cashmere sweater and slate-gray jeans at random, shrugging into them without a thought. That they fit with tailored precision wasn't nearly as important as the sense of rightness-that careless style that comes not from money but from basic class.
That he had, Brooke thought. Beneath the attractive face and athletic body was a sense of class that one was born with or one was not. It could never be taught. He held a glass of ginger ale in his hand, looking over the rim as he studied the room.
He found it crowded and cluttered and apparently disorganized but for the small island of order that was a sofa, table and lamp. He wondered fleetingly how anyone could work sanely around the coiled snakes of cable, huge black cases and poles of light. Then he saw Brooke. She could, he thought with a smile. She would simply steamroll over the chaos until she got exactly what she wanted. She might have wept like a child in his arms only a few nights before, but when she was on the job she was as tough as they came. Perhaps, he mused, that was why he'd fallen in love with her-and perhaps that was why he was going to keep that little bit of information to himself for a while. If he'd nearly panicked when he'd realized it, Brooke would undoubtedly do so. She wasn't quite ready to sit trustingly in the palm of his hand.
Brooke moved toward him, eyes narrowed. Parks thought uncomfortably that she could always make him feel like a department store dummy when she looked at him that way. It was her director's look, appraising, searching for flaws, mulling over the angles. 'Well?'' he said at length.
''You look marvelous.' If she had noticed the faint irritation in his voice, she ignored it. Reaching up, she disheveled his hair a bit, then studied the effect. ''Yes, very good. Nervous?'
'No.'
Her face softened with a smile. 'Don't frown, Parks, it won't help you get into the mood. Now…' Linking her arm in his, she began to lead him toward the set. 'You know your lines, but we'll have cue cards in case you draw a blank, so there's nothing to worry about. The main thing we want is that sort of laid-back, understated machismo. Remember this is the end of the segment; the first scene you're on the field in uniform, then there's the business in the locker room while you're changing, then this. Soft lights, a little brandy, a beautiful woman.'
'And I owe it all to de Marco,' he said dryly. 'The woman in any case,' she returned equably.
'It's simply a statement that clothes suit a man's image. Hopefully, men will be convinced that de Marco's right for theirs. You'll sit here.' Brooke gestured toward the end of the couch. 'Give me that relaxed slouch of yours when you're unwinding. It's casual but not sloppy.'
He frowned again, helplessly annoyed that she could dissect his every gesture and put a label on it. 'Now?'
'Yes, please.' Brooke stood back while Parks settled himself on the couch. 'Yes, good… Bring your elbow back just a bit on the arm. Okay.' She smiled again. 'That's what I want. You're getting very good at this, Parks.'
'Thanks.'
'You'll talk right into the camera this time,' she told him, gesturing behind her to where the machine sat on a dolly. ''Easy, relaxed. The girl will come up behind you, leaning over as she hands you the brandy snifter. Don't look at her, just touch her hand and keep talking. And smile;' she added, looking at her watch. 'Where is the girl?'
