Hmm. She seems tofalltoo hard on quite a few occasions, although she passes it off as slipping on her heels. I see the way she looks at him – still in the character of Polly while Heath straightens her up. She giggles a tad too much. Giving him the eye like he’s still the Count, drawn to her for all eternity.
“She fancies you,” I say. “You do know that, right?”
“Katie? Yes. I know that.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Are you not tempted? She’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“No, I’m not tempted.”
“Really?”
Josh squeezes my knee. “There are plenty of stunners on set, Ells. I’m sure they’re all out to tempt theCount, not just Katie Ryan. He could be a very busy boy if he wanted to.”
I examine theCountat my side. There’s no doubt that he must be a megastar of magnetism on set, not just off it. Yeah, he could be a very busy boy indeed, but here he is, isolated in France, with two hookers.
“You don’t fancy anyone on set at all?” I ask him. “What about Victoria Pewter? She looks quite like me. Or Peter Harold? He’d look like Josh if you squinted.”
“It’s not that I don’t fancy them, I don’t want them,” Heath says, and there’s an edge to his voice. Almost defensive. “I spend my life living out drama through filming every day, I don’t want any drama outside of it.”
Ouch. Something has spiked him. Josh nudges my foot and I let go of the conversation, taking another handful of popcorn and turning my attention back to the screen.
“Sorry,” Heath says, out of nowhere.
I smile at him. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t be asking. It’s none of my business, I just get excited by Whispers. Everyone onscreen is amazing. Especially Polly. And you, of course.”
“Oh shit,” Heath says as the scene changes. “My life flashed before my eyes with this one.”
Polly Anna wakes in her bed, shocked to see a shadowy figure standing over her. She makes a run for it and the chase is on yet again, the evil Count Valenti desperate for his fill.
“The director insisted on one fluid take,” Heath says. “I really thought we’d nailed it, until I screwed up at the end.”
I’m entranced, my heart racing as the Count races after Polly, the cameraman close behind.
Polly is screeching and flailing and throwing whatever she can grab at as she makes her escape into the street outside. But the Count is too quick. He grabs her and slams her up against the church door. Polly is panting hard and so am I, her tits heaving in her lowcut nightdress, the lucky bitch. What I would give for Count Valenti to chase me like that.
The camera zooms in on Polly’s pale neck and the Count shows his fangs before biting down.
Polly struggles at first, then goes limp in his arms as he sucks her blood.
“Wait for it,” Heath says.
All of a sudden, the Count is coughing – no – he’s choking, doubling over, can’t breathe.
Polly – or rather Katie, springs to life, grabs him from behind and performs the Heimlich manoeuvre. I’m gasping and nearly choking on my popcorn as Heath’s pale face turns purple.
“Dear fucking God,” I say, just as Katie gives a final thrust and something flies from Heath’s mouth.
People swarm the set. Someone – I think it’s the director – picks up whatever it was that flew from Heath’s mouth.
“Fucking hell, Heath,” he says, “you could have fucking died if it wasn’t for Katie’s quick thinking. Are you alright?”
Count Valenti is getting his breath back, leaning on Katie against the church door.
“Let’s take five and then we’ll go again,” the director says and the scene ends.
“It took another three takes before he was satisfied,” Heath says.
“What the hell happened?” I ask.
