“I gather you’re not gonna read for us.”
“Read?Oh, you only want audio?”
“No, we want you to play the scene.”She tapped the rolled-upscript against her palm.“From this.Laurie, have you never done acold read for camera before?”
“No.Plenty for theatre parts.But Devlin only has twelve lineshere—I don’t need the sheets.”
Now he’dannoyed her.He wasn’t sure how.Had he been arrogant?But his scanof the script had more than sufficed for him to learn it.He couldsoak up whole dialogue sets in only a little more time than this.She was shrugging, retreating back to her chair.“Whatever.Mikey,Sal—cue him in and roll.”
Laurietook a bewildered step back.The screen behind him rustled as hebumped it with his elbow.Before he’d steadied himself, a cameramanappeared from nowhere, and a girl interposed a digital clapperboardbetween Laurie and the lens.“BM Four audition for Devlin Steele,Laurence Fitzroy.Take one.”
Libbynodded curtly from the shadows.“Action.”
Lauriereached for composure.He’d been thrown in at the deep end of muchbigger pools than this, and the sharks had been live, five hundredexpectant faces waiting to see him swim or drown.Okay.He wasDevlin Steele, a wicked, charming vampire up a mountain inKathmandu.A fit of giggles was lurking dangerously under hislungs.“Frost!You were a fool to meet me here.But your kind don’tfeel the cold, do they?”
Hepaused.Did Libby want him to do Valentine’s lines as well?Hecould, effortlessly.The sultry caramel tones of the Frost actorwere available to him, latest addition to the limitless archive ofaccents and idiolects he had absorbed over the years.But after asecond a dull, bored English voice chimed in from somewhere behindthe camera.“Your kind’s my kind, Devlin.Or don’t you know thatyet?”
“Know it?I was sucking blood in the backstreets ofRevolutionary France while you were still a mortal child indiapers.”Laurie held back a question about Revolutionary diapersand gave the poor prompt boy a look he wouldn’t soon forget: thiswas clearly the big reveal.“Did you never wonder who was lurkingby your cradle?Whose shadow passed your bedroom window by thelight of the full moon—the blood moon, Valentine?”
“Cut!Cut, cut, cut.”
The cameraman straightened up.The prompt boy wanderedindifferently back to the coffee machine, and Libby leapt out ofher chair and stalked over to Laurie.“Over the top.Wayover the top.Haveyou ever worked against green screen?Do you know what it’sfor?”
Laurie didn’t care.He was back in the kitchen with Sasha,reading the one review he shouldn’t have.Overwrought.Hothouse.For an instanthis nerve failed him and he wanted to bolt for the door.“No,” hesaid distractedly.“It's for cartoons, that kind of thing, isn'tit?”
“It's for...”Libby sounded a little winded.She took a deepbreath and tried again.“It's for high-tech computer-generatedbackgrounds.”
“I think that's what I meant.”
“No.When, for example, we can't transport you into deepspace—much as we might like to—we film you against a green screenor a blue.Then our chroma-key computers strip out the green fromthe footage, and we can replace it with any CG backdrop welike.”
Laurietried to listen.He was being taught something about his new world,a world he planned to storm and conquer before he left this room.“Why green for me rather than blue?”
“Green's more expensive, but it's better and more sensitive.And, if an actor has...”She paused, as if right now it was killingher to say any good of him.“If he has particularly blue eyes, itcan be tough not to key them out on a blue-screen matte.And allthis is done using HD cameras that can pick out every open pore andpimple you might have—ifyou'd ever had any—so try again, this time as ifValentine was right there in front of you, not in the back row ofthe New York Opera House.Understood?”
“Yes.I think so.”
“You think so?Any questions?”
“Er...Why Kathmandu?”
Libby exploded.“How in hell should I know?The script isn'tfinished.Valentine has gone there to find peace or something,okay?God knows I wishIcould.Are you gonna try this again ornot?”
AlreadyLaurie could feel the changes begin.He was a director's dream, orso he'd been told by all his directors so far.He picked upinstruction almost before it had been given—the spirit of it, notthe letter, delivering what was needed but could not be expressed.He was Devlin Steele, face to face with Valentine in aheart-stopping confrontation whose subtly nuanced power would gluebacksides to seats across the globe.If Libby took it seriously,then so could he.“Yes.I'll try again.”
“Good.Sal, get back here, will you?”To Laurie's astonishment,she reached out and ran an appreciative palm across his cheek.“God, look at you!Fucking delicious.Right—off you go.”
***
When hefinished, the chair directly behind the camera was occupied.Devlingave Valentine one last darkling glance, allowed Laurie Fitzroy totake back his skin, and inclined his head to the newcomer, whoseface he recognised from the entertainment sections of thenewspapers.Douglas Brett didn't move.He was leaning on one elbow,listening intently to Libby.Whatever she'd been saying, Laurieonly tuned in for the last part.
“And he barely needs a script.I think he's eidetic—heflash-learned his lines for this scene.”
Brettrested his chin on his hand.He looked Laurie over thoughtfully, asif he'd been an image on a screen.“Given how little Devlin has tosay in this film, that's not a huge advantage to us.”
“I've checked his stage credentials.He's never used a doublefor his fights or action scenes.”
“Given the insurance, we'd barely allow him tomove.”
