Читать книгу Double Exposure - Vicki Lewis Thompson - Страница 7

WHAT HE WOULDN’T GIVE for a hot tub and an even hotter woman.

Hugh Armstrong battled the frigid waves churned up by the studio’s helicopter as he swam toward a perpetually sinking sailboat for the tenth time, a rescue line clenched between his teeth. The film’s ambitious director obviously thought he was the next James Cameron and this shot of Antonio Banderas fighting through the water in the dark would win Oscars all around. Unfortunately it was Hugh doing the swimming, not Banderas.

People imagined the ocean off the coast of Southern California was warm and cozy. Maybe by August it would be, even at this time of night. But this was still June, and a cool June at that. Plus the chopper blades added a windchill factor Hugh didn’t care to think about.

Normally he loved his job, but he had to admit his favorite stunts involved leaping from cliffs and crashing through windows. He was in this profession strictly for the adrenaline rush, and there was nothing scary about this current gig. Nobody would let him drown as he rescued the six actors on board the sailboat.

So instead of the stimulation he craved, he was stuck with boredom and exhaustion. On top of that, he really wanted to catch the eight o’clock plane out of LAX in the morning so he could get a jump start on his weekend in Rhode Island. Attending Stuart and Kim’s wedding would be great, but the real draw was spending time with his twin brother Harry, who was Stuart’s best man. It had been way too long between visits.

Plus he could use a few days off. He could really use a few days off. Another salty wave smacked him in the face, and he vowed this tenth take would be golden. Calling on his reserves, he put on a burst of speed that the director had to love. He made it to the partly submerged sailboat and secured the line quickly, determined that this time the director wouldn’t yell cut as he had nine times before.

The cameras rolled. Hugh lifted his arms to the first passenger, an eight-year-old kid with a bright future in the film industry. The kid leaped into his arms, his fingernail gouging Hugh’s forehead in the process. Hugh didn’t even flinch as he grabbed the line and started hauling the kid back to the pitching yacht that was designated as the rescue boat. The cameras kept on rolling. Thank God. Maybe he’d make that plane, after all.