The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(75)

Pushing any lingering concerns aside, I took the time in the taxi to prep for this next Samson encounter. I had to secure a meeting with him tomorrow at the ritual location Drio had texted, so that he and Rohan could finally, irrefutably determine if Samson was a demon. 

The taxi pulled up to a hive of activity, the driver conferring with some woman in a yellow safety vest directing traffic. All manner of tents and trailers were set up in a giant gravel field. Beyond it was a stretch of winding highway that had been blocked off.

There was a moment of confusion until the helpful Assistant Director was informed that I'd arrived. She came over to take charge of me, a welcoming smile on her face, a walkie talkie stuck in her waist band, and a massive steaming cup of coffee in the hand not holding a clipboard. A petite blonde force to be reckoned with, she introduced herself as Anya.

About a half dozen people stopped Anya to inquire about one thing or another as she led me over to a large white tent. "Will I be watching from here?" I asked.

"No. You're going to be outside for a while. I thought you might appreciate grabbing something from craft services first."

"I get to eat while I'm here?"

She leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. "To your heart's content."

If I'd known that, I'd have visited Samson sooner. I filled one Styrofoam cup up with hot, sweet, milky caffeine and another up with M&M's from the array of snacks laid out.

"Are you tap dancing?" she asked.

I froze, candy halfway to my mouth and guiltily looked down at my feet. I'd been doing paddle rolls. "Yeah."

"I tapped. How many years?"

"Fifteen. You?"

"Eleven." We chatted dance for a few minutes. "Forgive me asking," she said, "but you don't seem like Samson's regular type of guest."

I refilled my candy cup. "Strange times."

Her walkie talkie squawked to life. "Go for channel six," she said. A stream of instructions in Czech came at her. "Let me take you to video village."

We wove past scurrying crew members, including two paint-splattered women working on a flat. Anya assured me that I'd picked the right day to watch them film. "Going out on a high note with the car chase."

"Samson's finished after today?"

"Shooting, yeah. A couple tiny commitments for the production left. Well, until the film comes out and the press junket begins."

Video village turned out to be a grouping of directors' chairs around several monitors with all kinds of cables snaking out from them. Men and woman stood around the screens discussing everything from camera angles to make-up needs. I recognized Forrest Chang, the director, right away. Not because he was one of the few Asian people, but because he exuded an air of quiet authority, giving due consideration to each question posed to him.

Anya led me to the chair with Samson's name on it. "Front row seat," she said. I thanked her, sorry to see her go. From the curious looks shot my way, I could only imagine how people assumed I'd managed to get this guest pass.

Another hour went by. The craft services guy passed out some yummy sandwiches so it wasn't all bad. At long last, Forrest nodded in satisfaction, his slight smile giving him a boyish air as he watched Samson be led out to the classic hot rod he'd be driving. The actor looked good, dressed in black leather, a helmet tucked under one arm. He tilted his face down for the make-up artist to brush powder across his forehead, but only suffered her ministrations for a minute before stepping back.

He raised his head, looking directly into the camera. At me?

I was kinda far away from him, so I wasn't sure he could see me, but I stood up and waved a gloved hand at him. Onscreen, he grinned. It was all too bizarre. I sat back down, cradling my coffee between my hands.

Forrest called action and the magic started.



       
         
       
        

I was glued to the screens, twitching at every sharp turn of the wheel, every dodge, every crazy maneuver Samson pulled. For someone who wasn't a stuntman, the boy was crazy good.

After the seventh take, Forrest decided he'd gotten what he needed and everyone broke out into applause. Since I didn't want to get in anyone's way as they dismantled the monitors to move them to another spot, I stayed in my chair.

Anya eventually came and got me. "He wants to see you."

I tossed the dregs of my fourth coffee out and followed her.

Samson's trailer was nicer than Leo's apartment. Bigger too. Two stories with leather furniture, granite counters in the kitchen, and a freaking screening area, he even had his own make-up room so he didn't have to share oxygen with lesser cast.