Chapter 38
CHAPTER 38
A t the beach sometime later, the birds were singing, the sky was blue, and happily, I arranged the set – the lights, sandbags, tripods and backdrops. The fresh air was wonderful. I felt more awake and motivated than I had in weeks. And it was shaping up to be a relatively easy shoot despite the breeze. Even Graeme appeared happy. There’d been no squabbles with the stylist or Dana, who, in addition to running the food section of the online Christmas campaign, had been doing most of the heavy lifting, or at least cooking, since Mara had taken leave. The set was downright cheery. My best day at Delicious Bites by far.
‘We need some more lemon and rocket, Kate,’ Graeme said as I dusted specks of sand from the duck-egg blue napkins.
I walked back up the beach to the restaurant we were using as a base. In the cold room, I pottered around, retrieving rocket and lemons before walking out and opening a door leading to the function room. You just needed to pull open the bi-fold doors to reveal the enormous deck, and voila, breathtaking views of sand and beach as far as the eye could see.
Hearing a noise, I turned. ‘Graeme, you startled me. ’
‘I was about to send out a search party.’
‘Admiring the view. It’s incredible.’
‘You’ve been ignoring me, Kate. But then again, we don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, do we?’
‘Wrong idea about what?’
‘You and me, babe.’ Graeme stopped beside me. ‘The other night… sorry I was offhand the next morning. But we have to be careful, the walls have ears and eyes – and you know how jealous girlfriends can be. It was too bad we were interrupted. But I’ve got time now. Everything’s under control outside. Let’s…’ He leaned in towards me, and I backed away.
‘I was drunk. I’m sorry if I led you on.’
‘You didn’t lead me on, Tiger, you were mighty feisty. And frisky.’ He laughed. ‘You married chicks really want it, don’t you?’
‘No. No. I really don’t.’
‘Not what you said the other night.’
Noticing a suspicious bulge through his pants, I felt ill. What had I been thinking? I must have been more smashed than I thought. There’s no way I’d ever consider anything intimate with this pathetic excuse for a man, ever.
‘Graeme, you’ve got the wrong idea.’ He grabbed my hand as I swung away to the door. ‘Let me go!’
Dana’s voice sung out from the other side. ‘Kate, are you in there?’
Graeme reluctantly let me pass. ‘Later.’
Unfortunately, he appeared beside me on the beach soon after. He glanced through the test shots I’d taken before the rocket misstep. ‘So, are we shooting these dead octopi or not?’
All the props were in place. Dana was putting the finishing touches to the plate, the lighting was good, and the Hasselblad was firmly mounted on the tripod. All Graeme had to do was click one button and then bask in the accolades that would inevitably follow extolling his extraordinary vision.
‘Ready to go,’ I announced.
Seconds after he took the photo, he turned on me, furious. ‘That reflector, there’ – he pointed – ‘is in completely the wrong position.’
Frustratingly, Graeme was right. The wind had blown it slightly and the new angle meant the lighting was totally wrong. All that hard work for nothing. I set about fixing it while Graeme barked instructions. He must have said ‘I fucking hate working outside’ at least a dozen times in the space of ten minutes.
Confident the set was once more perfect, I called him over. ‘I can take the photos if you’d prefer,’ I said, eager to get behind the camera.
‘If I’d prefer?’ he repeated loudly enough for bystanders to stop and stare. ‘Let’s get this straight, Kate. I am the photographer; you are the proverbial dogsbody. I take the photographs; you lug the furniture.’