Livvy’s face fell as she stared at him. Oh. No. She thought it was because of last night. He was digging this hole deeper. He started to apologize and try to explain when a production assistant came to escort her to the scaffolding.
He slumped in a chair behind the camera, waiting for her before taking his own post. Rallo, who had been at Lionel’s foot in the shadows, sprang into his lap and sat there. Flynn watched as Livvy balked at the directions to climb up to the tiny wooden balcony the crew had built for the scene. He petted the tiny monkey and muttered, “At least she has solid ground beneath her. I have to stay on the edge of the balcony with only a foothold and my own strength.”
The monkey cocked his head, seemingly listening to Flynn complain, taking in his monologue. It occurred to Flynn that his position in today’s scene was a fitting metaphor for his mental state, but he didn’t particularly like the implications of that.
“You understand me, Rallo. Hell, you might be the only one in this entire town who does.”
The monkey chittered in agreement, and man and beast both looked across the soundstage to watch Livvy scale the scaffolding in her voluminous skirt. She was one hell of a woman. And still he couldn’t shake himself from this hollowness that had descended on him when he read that telegram. It was infuriating. He hated his father. Why should he feel this so keenly?
At long last, Livvy was ready. The director, Mickey Curtis, whom Flynn had worked with several times, pulled Flynn aside. “Okay so, we’ll film you jumping into the tree beneath her window, scaling its branches, and climbing onto her balcony,” he explained in his thick Irish brogue.
Flynn nodded. “Got it, Mick.” Frankly, he wanted to get this over with. Then, he could get his head on straight and explain himself to Livvy.
“All right then, if everyone is ready, places!” Mickey called out. “Action!”
Flynn crossed from behind the camera into the frame, scaled the tree easily, and took his spot hanging onto Livvy’s balcony. “Lady Margaret,” he called. “What ho, Lady Margaret.”
“Who goes there?” Livvy emerged, her eyes sparking and her black hair looking even richer and glossier under the intense lighting. He almost lost his balance.
He gripped the edge of the concrete balcony, holding on for dear life. Jesus Christ. He’d never been unsettled by a woman like this before. He hadn’t really given her a good look this morning until now. If it was possible, she was even more beautiful than she had been in the library last night, with her lips swollen and her breasts straining at her blouse. “It is I, your lovelorn suitor,” he squeaked.
“Cut,” called Curtis. “Banks, you all right?”
Flynn pulled himself up, trying to ignore the queer look Livvy was giving him. “Yes, yes,” he huffed out. “I’m fine, just lost my footing a little.”
“All right, back to one.”
Flynn sighed and climbed down from his perch as Livvy retreated through the archway, into what was meant to be Lady Margaret’s bedroom. Again, he regretted not skiving off for the day.
Soon enough they were rolling again, and Flynn masterfully scaled the wall, this time keeping his wits about him as Livvy strode into the scene.
“Jamie Brandt,” she hissed. “What are you doing here? Are you mad? If my father’s guards find you here, they’ll kill you.”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He winked at her. Fine, this was fine. The scene was moving along now. “If it means I can say good night to the woman I love.”
Livvy blinked at him, seeming to forget her lines for a moment as she took in what he said. But the moment passed as quickly as it came. “You’re a fool, Jamie Brandt. You must go. Besides, I don’t love you.” The words weren’t real, but they bruised Flynn’s heart all the same. He needed to get ahold of himself.
“Ah, well, then I suppose my life means very little.” He swung out from the balcony, hiding himself in the faux ivy covering the exterior of the house.
Livvy gasped. “Jamie, no!”
He swung back to her. “Ah, so you do care.” He winked at her. The scene felt real. Alive in a way no love scene he’d done before ever had.
“Oh, darling.” She reached for him, pulling at his woolen cloak to draw him closer. “I do love you. I love your bravery. I love how headstrong you are. Most of all, I love what you are doing for the people of this little island. But you must go. Every minute you linger, you are in greater danger.”
“I will. But, Margaret, won’t you come with me? Be my pirate queen. We could liberate all the people of this island. Together.” Livvy’s eyes flashed at the wordtogether. He didn’t know if she was that good of an actress, or if last night was still on her mind. He cursed himself for reading that bloody telegram. For standing in the library and watching her go. If he’d run after her last night, maybe he would’ve have been too preoccupied to read his father’s death notice.
“If I do that, I will as good as sign your death warrant,” she continued, in character. “My father will say you kidnapped me.”
He made a show of sighing. “You are right. I know it. But that shall not stop me from trying to convince you.”
Members of the crew behind the camera were starting to make a loud noise, as if they were carousing. Livvy’s head snappedback, looking through the archway. “Go, my darling. They cannot find you here.”
“Kiss me goodbye.” He leaned forward over the balcony, bracing himself to feel her lips against his, even if only for the benefit of the camera this time.
She placed her hands on the railing and wrapped her arms around his neck, honoring his request for a kiss. It was meant to be chaste and brief enough to skirt the rules of the Production Code, but Livvy flung herself at him with so much force that if she hadn’t been holding onto him, he might have tumbled backwards. She kissed him so fiercely it hurt. It was the first time in hours he’d thought of anything but his own self-pity. He found it invigorating, and he returned the kiss with equally bruising passion.
“Cut!” bellowed Curtis from below them.
