Unquiet Souls

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

The meeting with Michael Covenant and Colin Turner, his producer, was surprisingly anticlimactic. The three of them assembled in Colin’s office in a high-rise on Sunset Boulevard, where both Michael and Colin stated they were glad to have Audrey on board, and Colin informed her that she’d need to meet with their hair and makeup people, and the woman in charge of wardrobe.

“I can’t wear my own clothes?” Audrey asked, a little surprised. After all, this was supposed to be a reality show, wasn’t it?

Colin gave her an indulgent smile. When she’d first met him, she hadn’t liked the way his gaze raked her up and down, apparently cataloguing her various assets and flaws, but then Audrey realized that was all part of his producer schtick and did her best to ignore it. Possibly he’d seen her stiffen in indignation, because after that he’d poured on the charm, his north-of-England accent becoming even more pronounced as he said she had perfect bone structure for the camera — whatever that was supposed to mean — and that he knew she would do fine.

Audrey almost inquired acidly as to whether his certainty was based on his appraisal of her bone structure, but she decided to let it go. There was no point in trying to fool herself; she knew that a large part of the reason why Colin had selected her was because he thought she would look good on camera. Deep down, she had to admit that her dark hair and eyes would provide a good contrast to Michael’s sandy-blond hair and oddly hued hazel eyes, providing some additional visual interest.

“No,” Colin said, still smiling. “That’s just our policy. Don’t want to be responsible for some sentimental favorite of yours getting ruined or anything.”

“That’s a possibility?” Again, Audrey didn’t quite see how standing in a haunted house and riffing on the nature of the strange noises emanating from the attic would pose much of a risk to her wardrobe.

“You’d be surprised,” Michael put in. Unlike Colin, he wasn’t smiling, instead looked deadly serious. “I’ve been vomited on, covered in mud, splashed with blood — ”

“That’s quite enough,” Colin said hastily, probably because he must have seen the way her eyes widened at those revelations. “Not that we think anything like that is going to happen during filming, but better safe than sorry, isn’t that right?”

Audrey glanced from him to Michael, who’d settled back into his chair but was giving her another of those speculative glances, as if still trying to determine whether she’d really be able to handle what this show might throw at her. Once again, she looked forward to the chance to prove him wrong.

“Yes, I suppose so,” she said. “But I want practical clothes. No skirts or heels.”

“No, nothing like that,” Colin responded, looking relieved that she hadn’t commented on Michael’s remark about blood and vomit. “Jeans and boots, that sort of thing. We’ll need your sizes.”

About the last thing Audrey wanted was to blurt out her pants size in front of Michael Covenant, of all people, but she knew she didn’t have much choice. “I’m a size six in most things,” she said, “but of course clothes vary from brand to brand. And a size seven for shoes, mostly, unless they run small.”

“I’ll let Kathleen know,” Colin said, adding by way of explanation, “the wardrobe gal. She’ll put some things together for you.”

In a way, it was sort of fun to contemplate the notion of getting new clothes to wear, even if they were borrowed and not really hers. And who knew — maybe they would let her keep some of the wardrobe if they didn’t have another use for it.

“When?” Audrey asked.

“Friday morning,” Colin replied. “The production offices, which are actually in Universal City. I’ll email you all the particulars.”

She nodded, although inwardly she could feel herself groan. Yet more time spent in traffic, going to and from Glendora. She wasn’t naïve enough to think she wouldn’t waste several hours of her life sitting on the 210 Freeway going back and forth to the company’s production offices, no matter what time of day it might be.

But, as Bettina had pointed out, Audrey was getting paid a lot of money for what would be a relatively short period in her life. At least she didn’t have any counseling sessions scheduled for Friday morning, just one at three o’clock that afternoon. She’d have to make sure she was back in Glendora by then.

“All right,” she said, then glanced over at Michael. “Since you have my signed contract and NDA, can you let me know where we’ll be filming on Monday?”

“No,” he replied flatly, and Audrey stared at him, wondering if he’d misunderstood her question.

Colin, as seemed to be his pattern, rushed in to smooth things over. “What he means is, it’s better if you go in fresh, so to speak. Don’t want you coming at the problem with any preconceived ideas.”

Annoyed, she thought if that was really their goal, then they should have hired someone else. Audrey already had plenty of ideas about demon hunting, none of which were what one might call favorable. But if Michael was really worried that she’d spend the days between now and Monday sneaking around the property, trying to get a read on the place in order to have an advantage when they started shooting, so be it. She wasn’t going to argue, or try to convince him that she had much better things to do with her time.

“Sure,” Audrey said. “I can understand that. Then I guess I’ll be in Universal City on Friday and on Monday — ”

“On Monday, I’ll come pick you up,” Michael cut in.

That prospect didn’t appeal very much — at least if she had her own car at the shoot, she’d feel somewhat more in control of the situation — but she’d signed the contract. She was committed to this thing now, and if Michael Covenant wanted to throw in odd stipulations and demands, so be it.

Committed is right, she thought. You probably should be committed for agreeing to this…or at the very least be subjected to a seventy-two-hour psychiatric hold.

However, Audrey was determined not to allow him to see that she harbored any misgivings about the project, mostly because she feared he would see her unease as a sign of weakness. She smiled and said that sounded great, and soon afterward she made her escape to get her car out of hock from the parking garage under the building where Colin’s office was located. As she’d feared, she had to sit in traffic all the way back to Glendora, but what difference did it really make? It wasn’t as though she had anyone waiting for her.

And whose fault is that?

Hers, mostly. It was easier to live a hermit-like existence than get far enough along in a relationship where she had to explain what had happened to her parents. The few times Audrey had made herself tell the truth, the men she’d been seeing had quickly found a reason to break off the relationship. These days, no one wanted to deal with baggage.

Neither did she…but she hadn’t been given any choice.

Monday rolled around, after a weekend in which Audrey quite ferociously did nothing of any importance at all. Usually, she would have tried to go hiking, or met up with Bettina to go to the movies or at least lunch and window shopping, but instead she got caught up with laundry and housework, pulled weeds in the garden, and finally hemmed that set of curtains she’d been meaning to get to for months.

Possibly an outside observer would have commented that she was trying to get all those odds and ends done in case something really did happen to her during the filming of the first episode of Project Demon Hunters, but Audrey refused to look at it that way. These were all tasks that needed to be handled, and it wasn’t as though she could afford to hire someone to take care of them for her. The house was the one tangible thing she had to remind herself of her parents, and she wasn’t about to let anything happen to it…not even if it meant appearing on some half-baked reality show in order to prevent a tax lien. She’d already gotten one extension and knew she couldn’t ask for another. The show was her one chance to get her precarious finances in order.

Michael had texted her that he would be out front at six-thirty Monday morning, which would have sounded early except that she knew they both had to go to hair and makeup before they could even set foot in the supposedly haunted — or infested — house where they would be filming. Pride prevented Audrey from leaving the house completely bare-faced, so she put on a little lip gloss before going out onto the front porch to wait for him.

The morning was cool and foggy, the moisture-laden air making odd little circles of light around the orange-toned street lamps. Although she’d put on a sweater, Audrey still shivered. So much for sunny Southern California.

A pair of headlights raked through the fog, and she saw an ancient Toyota Land Cruiser pull up and stop in front of the house. Looking at it, she couldn’t help but frown a little. So, even with all his appearances on the conference circuit and the books and the DVDs, he couldn’t afford anything better than that?

Audrey told herself she shouldn’t be a snob. After all, she drove a seven-year-old Toyota Corolla. But….

Pulling in a breath, she made herself go down the front walk and then open the Land Cruiser’s passenger door. Michael was sitting inside, his over-long hair looking more disheveled than ever, a scruff of beard on his cheeks and chin. A pair of Starbucks cups sat somewhat precariously in a cardboard carry-out container on the front seat, since of course a vehicle that old didn’t have anything as handy as a cupholder.

“Thought you could use some coffee,” he said, his tone almost too casual. “It’s black, but there’s some sugar and cream in that bag.”

“Black is fine,” Audrey replied, settling herself in the passenger seat so she could fasten the seatbelt. “Thanks — I didn’t have time to make some for myself this morning.”

“These shooting schedules can be brutal,” he said as he pulled away from the curb.

“Well, I did some work as an extra when I was in college, so I was ready for that part of the gig.”

He turned his head to regard her briefly before returning his attention to the road. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

Audrey shrugged. “It’s not like it was something I would have put on my CV. I had a friend in college whose mother was a set decorator, and they needed some college-age kids to fill in on a TV pilot they were shooting. It was a fun way to spend a couple of days, but — ”

“But it wasn’t something you wanted to do full-time.” His mouth quirked a little. “And now you’re doing that very same thing.”

“A six-week shoot isn’t exactly a full-time job,” she pointed out.

“Maybe not exactly, but it’s full-time while you’re doing it.” Once again, he swiveled his head to take a quick look at her, and then turned back to keep an eye on their foggy surroundings. “How did you handle the schedule with your clients, anyway?”

“I moved their appointments to the weekend,” Audrey replied. It hadn’t been something she’d really wanted to do, but it was better than trying to find new counselors for them for just a few weeks. In addition to her very real fear that they might not come back after the six weeks of shooting were done, she also worried that assigning them new therapists would reverse some of the progress they’d made, as the fragile trust they’d created would have to be rebuilt all over again with someone else. Luckily, all her clients had been accommodating — and also interested in what she would be doing with her weekdays. She hadn’t gone into too much detail, except to say she was helping with a show that would be out the following autumn. And really, she couldn’t have told them much more than that anyway, since she’d had to sign a nondisclosure agreement that stipulated she wouldn’t share the subjects or the locations of any of the shoots she’d be doing.