Stone continued the trek across the boards that shifted ever so slightly, as water murmured beneath the long grasses.‘I don’t mind cyberstalking now and again.In your job, you’d have several social media accounts.’
‘I have to.’She sighed heavily.‘I make quick cash selling my unedited B-roll, but it’s also how people notice me.Directors, producers, and other filmmakers see my online portfolio, that’s a stepping stone to getting onto bigger production teams… Still, I worry about what Julian might do to my reputation.’
‘For quitting?’
Her nod was barely noticeable, but the worry she wore was intolerable.
‘You have the proof on your camera for quitting.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I watched the replay this morning while you were showering.Remember?’
‘That’s hours of footage.’
‘I found the fast-forward button.You should see me when I do movies, I’m always fast-forwarding through the boring parts.I can’t stand free-to-air anymore because of the commercials.And if a movie doesn’t get Finley’s attention in the first ten minutes, we DNF it.’
‘DNF?’
‘Did not finish it.’
‘Do you watch documentaries?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they bore the crap out of me.’He laughed at the documentary maker’s ruffling brow.‘Although Finley and I do spend hours watching the fish tank, that’s cool.’
‘While under the influence of other substances?’
‘Please, you’ll ruin my reputation as a straitlaced pilot, a Federal agent for the Stock Squad.’He bobbed his eyebrows up and down, as he led them down the wooden planks that stretched across the tall grasses, where their root systems were submerged in water.
‘Again, film nothing, even if you’re dying to.’
She bit on her bottom lip.‘Yeah, but—’
‘Not without his lordship’s permission, or the old pirate may feed you to the crocodiles.Please?’He paused to lower his head to plead with her.Again, being dictated by that need for privacy that was a serious issue for him.It was another test for the pretty little filmmaker, to see if she’d comply.
‘Fine.’Leaving her camera alone, she hooked her thumbs through the belt loops of her cargo pants.‘Who is this guy?’
‘You’ll see…’ Here’s hoping she had an open mind.‘Captain!Where you at?’
‘In the beauty parlour, having me daily constitutional.’
Again, Romy tugged on Stone’s shirt.‘Did he just say he’s on the loo?’
‘You never know with this guy.Trust me, you’ll love him.’He grabbed her tiny hand—so soft, yet strong—and led her towards the houseboat.‘I brought a sea princess for you to have your wicked way with, Captain.’
There was a commotion of tins falling over, with a lot of low cussing, and a heavy plonk.
‘You alright ol’ mate?’Stone helped Romy onto the back deck, where a few old chairs sat.A sun-bleached table held a set of binoculars, an empty coffee mug, and a slim book, the pages held open by a pen marking a half-finished crossword.
‘Just putting my leg on.’There was a thud, a slide, then another thud followed by the slide before the back concertina doors opened wide, to reveal a man with a long grey plait for both his beard and hair.‘Look at what the ol’ saltie dragged in.You lost?’He narrowed his eyes at them, the heavy wrinkles shifting in his heavily tanned and timeworn complexion.
‘Good to see you too, old man.’Stone heartily patted him on the back in a friendly man hug.‘Your beard plait is longer than your hair these days.’
‘At least I have hair to plait, boy.’The old man squinted at Romy.
