‘I own the film until you pay for it.’
‘I’m paying for your—’
She paused in the helicopter's shade.‘My what?’To get here she’d cashed in her frequent flyer points to land at Darwin’s airport at midnight.Then it was straight into Julian’s car for the long drive to Elsie Creek to meet Stone, the cheeky helicopter pilot, at dawn.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, while slurping from his coffee mug, the pilot gave them some regurgitated speech abouthands and limbs must be kept inside the vehicle at all times, as he handed out headphones before climbing into his pilot’s seat.Stone was then smart enough to wait until Julian handed over the cash before he let the helicopter blades spin, starting their tour with an epic outback sunrise.
From her backpack, Romy dragged out her water bottle and took a deep drink.‘Are we staying somewhere in town tonight?Elsie Creek looked nice.’
‘I planned to drive back this afternoon,’ replied Julian.
‘I don’t think that’s wise.We’ve both been up since midnight.’
‘I’ve got a stash of caffeinated drinks in the car.’Julian delicately picked his way through the tall grasses, while Romy trudged through the mud in her cargo pants and heavy boots.
‘How many documentaries have you directed?’
‘I’ve been a director for plenty of reality shows, where I’ve been honing my skills in creating drama and tension on the small screen.’
‘You do realise that documentaries cater to a niche market?’They weren’t blockbusters filled with wannabe superstars faking it for five minutes of fame.
‘I’m catering to a different market.’
‘Which one?’She narrowed her eyes at Julian.While seated in the pilot’s chair, Stone cleaned his sunnies—obviously listening.
Julian didn’t answer, he just strut right past her.
‘Hey, Julian.’She grabbed his arm.‘For me to effectively do my job—that you hired me for—I need to know your vision.I’m here to help you, remember?’
‘Of course.’Julian sighed, dabbing a cloth at his sweaty moustache.‘Well, I’m after a sensationalised documentary with a reality TV edge to it.But one that focuses more on crocodile wranglers.’He nodded at Stone, who’d arched his eyebrows at them in surprise.‘I want us to highlight the danger ofThe Journey from Swamp to Luxury.’
Now Stone frowned.Earlier, he may have scowled at her a few times for her safety, but this was a scary frown.
But then Romy blinked a few times, allowing that nugget of information to settle in.‘You want us to stage action-packed scenes that exaggerate the dangers of crocodiles, just to create a thrill for the viewers?’
‘Yes.Exactly that.’Julian patted her shoulder.‘And you came highly recommended.’
Now she understood why Stone was ticked off, because Julian wanted to use the crocodile wrangler as croc bait while recklessly putting her at risk to film his documentary.
Not on her watch!
‘We’re only here to observe.That’s what I do.I watch, I film.I do not touch.And I certainly do not create situations for the animals to react to.’Romy’s stomach churned with anger and disbelief at Julian’s reckless pursuit of sensationalism—it was everything she stood against.
‘What do you mean byswamp to luxury?’Stone’s voice had a lethal edge to it.
‘I think I’ve said enough for today.Let’s go.’Julian climbed into the back of the helicopter.‘Be sure to film everything on the journey back.’
Three
In the helicopter’s front passenger seat, Romy finally looked up from behind her camera to point at the colourful painted roofs of the tiny outback town called Elsie Creek.‘What is up with those roofs?They’re amazing.’
Stone shrugged from the pilot’s seat.‘Someone did them one day.No one knows who, they just showed up.One by one.’But he liked the quirky two-dimensional cartoon images that made this small town stand out from the sky.
‘So, the snail holding the mail in its mouth is for?’Romy’s warm tone of voice was both friendly and sweet over the speakers.Even the clunky headphones suited her.
‘The post office.’Stone glided over the town where various rooftop images stood boldly under the sunshine.There was a retro fifties glamorous woman in curlers stretched over the hairdressing salon.Across the road was a cracked spanner in the works covering the hardware store’s roof.The strong arm of the law covered the police station, that stood next to the Dalmatian peeing on a fire hydrant for the fire station.
‘Is that the Mad Hatter with a teacup?’
