Smoke and Shadows Read Free Page B

call in even if she hadn’t. Happy?” She shoved the cut sheets up against his chest. “Trucks are there at eleven, shoot by midnight, gone by one and if you believe that, I’ve got some waterfront land going cheap.”

    â€œHe led his city through the darkest night toward the dawn.”
    Heart slamming against his ribs, Tony jumped forward and spun around, managing to accomplish both movements more or less simultaneously and still stay on his feet. He scowled at the shadowy figure just barely visible at the edge of the streetlight’s circle, knowing that every nuance of his expression could be clearly seen. “Fuck, Henry! You just don’t sneak up on a guy and purr bad cutlines into his ear!”
    â€œSorry.” Henry stepped into the light, red-gold hair gleaming, full lips curved up into a smile.
    Tony knew that smile. It was the one that went along with It’s fun to be a vampire! Which was not only a much better cutline than the one plastered all over the Darkest Night promo package, it was indicative of an almost playful mood—playful as it referred to an undead creature of the night. “Where did you park?”
    â€œDon’t worry; I’m well out of the way.”
    â€œCops give you any hassle?”
    The smile changed slightly and Henry shoved his hands into the pockets of his oiled-canvas trenchcoat. “Do they ever?”
    Tony glanced down the road to where a pair of constables from the Burnaby RCMP detachment stood beside their cruiser. “You didn’t, you know, vamp them?”
    â€œDo I ever?”
    â€œSometimes.”
    â€œNot this time.”
    â€œGood. Because they’re already a little jumpy.” He nodded toward the trucks and, when Henry fell into step beside him, wet dry lips and added, “Everyone’s a little jumpy.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI don’t know. Night shoot, moderately dangerous stunt, an explosion . . . pick one.”
    â€œYou don’t believe it’s any of those reasons.”
    Tony glanced over at Henry. “You asking?”
    â€œNot really, no.”
    Before he could continue, Tony waved a cautioning hand and continued the movement down to pull his walkie-talkie from the holster on his belt. “Yeah, Pam?” One finger pushed his ear jack in a little deeper. “Okay, I’m on it. I’ve got go see when Daniel’s due out of makeup,” he told Henry as he reholstered. “You okay here?”
    Henry looked pointedly around. “I think I’ll be safe enough.”
    â€œJust . . .”
    â€œStay out of the way. I know.” Henry’s smile changed yet again as he watched Tony hurry off toward the most distant of the studio’s three trailers. In spite of the eyebrow piercing, he looked, for lack of a better word, competent. Like he knew exactly what he was doing. It was what Henry came to night shoots to see—Tony living the life he’d chosen and living it well. It made letting him go a little easier.
    Not that he had actually let go .
    Letting go was not something Henry did well. Or, if truth be told, at all.
    But within this small piece of the night, they could both pretend that he was nothing more than the friend he appeared to be.
    Pretend.
    He made his living writing the kind of books that allowed women—and the occasional man—to pretend for 400-odd pages that they lived a life of romance and adventure, but this, these images captured and manipulated and then spoon-fed to the masses as art, this was pretense without imagination. He’d never had to actually blow up a BMW in order for his readers to imagine a car accident.
    Television caused imagination to atrophy.
    His upper lip pulled back off his teeth as he watched the director laying out the angles of the explosion for the camera operator.
    Television substituted for culture.
    The feel of watching eyes turned him to face a middle-aged woman standing beside the craft