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David Fantasy #1 by Julianne Lee Author does not have access to .creative

Something to while away the weeks until the new season…

  Kira's hands shook as she buttoned the vest of her 

camel-colored suit. Any minute now she would be meeting him. Today was the day. Any minute. Her palms were slick. A paper towel. She needed a paper towel to wipe her hands. No sweat stains on the suit, please. There were no paper towels; she had to settle for the upholstery on the dinette in her motor home dressing room.

  Why hadn't they let her read with him at the casting 

call? Who the hell did he think he was, anyway?

  He was in Vancouver, that's who he thought he was. In

Vancouver while she was auditioning in LA. She'd read with Chris Carter. Carter had been in town, but that Duchovny guy had been stuck in Vancouver. So she'd read with Chris. Not David. A deep, shakey sigh escaped her. Not David. She wondered if she could live through this.

  Chris was a nice guy. Would David be so nice? Huh. 

Anybody's guess, she figured.

  A knock echoed in the trailer. "They're ready for you, 

Miss Julian."

  Oh, God. Here goes nothing.
  Kira opened the trailer door and nearly toppled when 

it opened too fast. One hand snatched at the door post and one foot found the rickety aluminum ladder below. The heel of her shoe stuck in the step and wouldn't come out. After a minute or so of trying to wrench it loose, she gave up, took her foot from the shoe and reached down for a good yank.

  Oh, God.
  The shoe back on her foot, she hurried to the set. Her 

lines tumbled in her brain: "Come on, Mulder, take a reality break. Come on, Mulder, take a reality break. Come on, Mulder, take a reality break." There was more, but that one line kept repeating. "Come on, Mulder, take a reality break."

   Why had she ever read for this part? Why had she 

begged her agent to put her up for this?

  She answered her own question: Because I have the 

great, screaming hornies for that Duchovny guy, that's why!

  She bemoaned her foolishness. It should have been let 

alone. Why did she ever want to meet this guy? Cute guys were a dime a dozen in LA; why did she have to come all the way to Vancouver to meet this one?

  The front hallway of the house which was today's 

location was lined with heavy, black cables tied together with duct tape. They snaked from the trailers outside to the lights and other equipment inside and she picked her way to the living room, her ankles threatening to break if she tripped.

  Crew stood around, waiting for the first team--herself 

and David–to take their places. The camera, looking like the creature from "Alien," all black and covered with incomprehensible appendages, stood in the corner of the living room, pointed at t-

$ -Yre she and David would be doing their first scene together.

  There was Chris, looking all blonde and fresh. His 

jeans were new and his hair was tres Late Boomer. Same age as she.

  "Hi, Kira. How are you?"
  "Fine." She shook his hand and hoped the sweat hadn't 

returned.

  Carter looked up, past her, and said, "David..."
  Kira turned. It felt like slow motion, and when she 

saw him the world seemed to freeze. David Duchovny. All 6 feet 1 of him, mild eyes and tentative smile. Too gorgeous for words. "Hello."

  Her heart was in her throat. She swallowed hard. Chris 

was saying, "David, this is Kira Julian. Kira, David Duchovny."

  "Julian, not Gillian? Pleased to meet you." He held 

out his hand and she took it. Warm and dry, not like hers which had to be cold and clammy. His smile widened some, but then his attention turned to Carter, hands on hips, his jacket gathered behind him. "Chris, we need to talk."

  "After this setup. Shoot this one, then come to the 

production trailer."

  Carter walked away and Duchovny stared after, his lips 

thin and his eyes narrowed. Kira knew that look. It was Mulder's "dammit" face. Something was wrong.

  Duchovny turned and went to his mark. Kira followed 

and found hers, a T of masking tape stuck to the carpet. She set her feet on either side of the T stem and looked up at Duchovny. His eyes were squeezed shut. Then he shook himself out all over and made a grimace to stretch out his mouth muscles.

  Kira followed suit, trying to loosen up a little. It 

wasn't easy in these damned heels. She was four inches taller than Gillian Anderson, who played Mulder's regular partner, but they still made her wear four inch heels. Huh. They should wheel her around on a dolly to keep her from breaking her ankles.

  The heels brought her to 5'10, within some range of 

Duchovny's height. A pain in the neck, but it was either this or stand on a box for the two-shots that included just their faces.

  "Ready for rehearsal!," the director said.
  Duchovny glanced over at him, then looked at her. Kira 

could see he wasn't seeing her any more, but Shelly Mardarosian, Mulder's new partner.

  "Action."
  "Mardarosian, look at this."
  "Come on, Mulder, take a..." As soon as the words left 

her lips she wanted to cry. David looked at her like she was the stupidest bimbo he'd ever seen. She moaned, "I'm sorry."

  Okay, she blew it on rehearsal. Now she could go the 

rest of the day without blowing a huge number of takes. They started over.

  "Mardarosian, look at this."
  "What?"
  Somehow they made it through the scene, got it on 

celluloid, and David disappeared like he'd been abducted by aliens.

  Kira picked her way through the cables in her heels 

and made it back to her motor home. As she stepped into the dressing room she heard a muffled shout from the production trailer. Hard to hear, but it sounded like Duchovny saying, "Bimbo!" The rest of it she couldn't hear at all.

  Her face flushed hot and she hurried to lock herself 

into her dressing room.

  On the dinette she sank into a pain-wracked huddle. He 

hated her. She wished she could cry, but then she'd have to get her makeup repaired. More humiliation. Instead she swallowed the pain and opened her script to the scene they'd just done. Her lines would be down cold for the closeup angles, at least.

  Later, David wouldn't look at her when he fed her his 

lines during her closeup. His delivery was professional, but he wouldn't look at her. It rattled her so much that she had to repeat the same line six times. "Keep rolling," said the director in a tone dripping with disgust. By the time the scene was finished she was sweating like a horse and she knew David really did hate her.

  It went like that all week. She hid in her dressing 

room. Though she could hear David outside, playing basketball with some of the crew, she never went out. Lunch was always a hurried thing: get the food and get back to the motor home and hope to God David wasn't around.

  Then she sat at the dinette, peeking out the window at 

David's lithe, shirtless body jumping for the hoop as she chewed her fried chicken or spaghetti more than necessary. Sometimes she would forget to swallow for minutes at a time as she watched the muscles ripple and the long arms stretch to control and avoid. David was a wonder to behold.

  Eight working days. That's how long it was. The 

weekend was unbearable. Kira sat in her hotel room and watched TV for two days. Nobody called and she called nobody.

  Wednesday was the last day of shooting on that 

episode, and there had been nary a word passed between herself and David that hadn't been in the script. Kira was going to go home to LA a failure. She'd alienated the most attractive straight single man in the entire film industry, and would probably come off on the show as a bimbo to boot. She might as well crawl under a rock and die.

  And to make matters worse, she was to spend most of 

this day covered in mud. Still with the heels. How very attractive she would be. If only she could just go home now and skip this humiliation.

  As she and David stood together in spotless wool 

suits, waiting for their cue to flee into a mud hole from what would later be an optical effect, Kira glanced at him.

  He was staring at her, and looked away.
  She looked away and could feel her face warm.
  "Action!"
  They ran. And fell into the mud according to the 

script. It took maybe four seconds, then the director yelled "Cut. Print. Thank you."

  David struggled to his feet, a steady stream of foul 

language burbling from his mouth. Kira agreed with all her heart; it was, indeed, extremely cold mud. He helped her to her feet, mud dripping from his hair and nose onto her.

  "Waidaminit, my shoe is still in there."
  He plunged a hand into the muck and yanked the mud-

filled shoe from the bottom. "Here." She took it and he steadied her as they climbed out. His long fingers were firm on her arm. Strong. Blankets awaited them, and Kira huddled against a nearby generator for warmth.

  David sidled up next to her. "Why don't you go back to 

your dressing room?" The words were a shock after a week and a half of silence.

  "I'm too middle class to track mud into it."
  "Ah." A slight smile and raised eyebrows told her he 

appreciated the humor. "I knew there had to be a reason."

  She looked up at him. "Why?"
  His eyes narrowed and he stuck his jaw out. He was 

about to say something, but though his mouth was open he wasn't quite ready to say it. The eyes were hooded and he almost looked tough. Only then did he say what was on his mind. "You don't like me much, do you?"

  Kira laughed. David looked away and chewed on the 

corner of his mouth. In a rush, she said, "No, I do like you. I think. I haven't been able to talk to you much."

  "Ah." Again with the raised eyebrows. "Something kept 

you in your dressing room all week. I thought you were avoiding me."

  Now she was turning red to her toes. "I was. I can't 

believe how bad I've done on this gig. You were complaining about me to Chris the first day."

  David's eyes went blank for a second, then fired with 

memory. "Oh. Oh, no, that wasn't you. There was some dingbat girl following me around. Calls herself Spooky, I think. Or Mooky…Puky, or something. Chris needed to get someone to put more security on the set. Stop giving out locations and stuff."

  "Seriously? It wasn't me?"
  "I never lie." A wide grin burst onto his face. "Just 

the occasional campaign of misinformation. Now how about letting me next to that generator? I'm freezing! Man, you'd think they could afford a heater out here, huh?"

  With a chuckle, she moved over to let him close. As he 

stepped in, he opened his blanket to put it around her and share the warmth. With a deep, silent sigh she opened her blanket to put an arm around his waist. There they shivered in the Vancouver air until the AD called them for the next setup where they would have to stand hip-deep in ice-cold mud together.

  Kira was in heaven.
/data/webs/external/dokuwiki/data/pages/archive/sf/fantasy.txt · Last modified: 2001/09/18 06:11 by 127.0.0.1

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