The Trouble with Mojitos. Romy Sommer
as she could muster. “It’s kind of Pirates of the Caribbean meets Lost. With a bit of comedy thrown in.”
Not that she’d read the script, of course. That was classified. All she’d needed to know was the list of locations the director wanted and how much the producer was willing to pay for them. Easy, right?
It should have been. She’d fixed locations for dozens of shoots, usually the kind that had nothing more than goodwill to pay with. Now she had a big studio movie, a Hollywood director to impress and a budget to die for, and she couldn’t get a foot in the door. What was wrong with this place?
The pirate’s blistering, dark gaze raked over her. “So what does a location scout do?”
“Mostly I take pictures and send them back to the director. If he likes what he sees, then I negotiate permission for the crew to film there.”
“Does your director like what he’s seen so far?”
And that was where her problems began. She hadn’t sent a thing yet. Not anything the director could use, anyway. She had no doubt the scouts who’d been sent to the Virgin Islands and Bahamas were doing way better.
“I hired a charter boat, but the skipper only took me to all the usual tourist spots, and they’re completely useless for our needs. Either too small, or too rocky, or too busy. I’m looking for a bay big enough to hold a pirate ship, and a long stretch of white beach with no sign of human habitation – and preferably a handy bit of tropical forest that isn’t too dense for us to shoot in.”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “According to Google Earth, there are a few uninhabited islands not far from Los Pajaros, but the skipper refused to take me to any of them without a permit. The clerk at the harbour master’s refused to give me the permit without a letter from the Environmental Services office, who refused to give me a letter without the governor’s permission.”
“The governor’s role is purely titular. He wouldn’t be much help.”
“I gathered. His office sent me to the mayor and he’s almost impossible to get in to see. I waited for the entire afternoon. Do you know the mayor’s waiting room doesn’t even have air conditioning! How can the mayor’s office not have air conditioning?”
“Depends which waiting room you’re in.” Her pirate smiled for the first time, but there was still a twist of mockery in the way his mouth curved. “There are two, and only one gets you an audience.”
She’d suspected that officious secretary wanted to get rid of her. Even the women of Los Pajaros had it in for her. She recognised the run around when she saw it, but she wasn’t going to be so easy to get rid of.
He waved his now empty glass at the bartender. “Your boss doesn’t like you much, does he?”
“How can you tell?”
“Because he couldn’t have sent a worse person to do the job.”
Kenzie bristled. “I’m really good at what I do!”
“How old are you … twenty two?”
She pulled her shoulders straight and thrust her head high. “Thirty two.”
He shrugged. “No offence, sweetheart, but one, you’re a woman. Two, you look like a kid fresh out of high school. And three, you’re not from around here. This is a tight-knit community and wary of strangers. If your boss had done his homework, he’d have sent a man. Preferably a man with Caribbean connections.”
That figured. Neil always did his homework, so he’d known she was all wrong for the job and he’d sent her anyway. He made no secret he thought she was nothing more than a party girl playing at being a location scout.
The face didn’t help. Baby face genes were more a curse than anyone realised.
So Neil had given the plum pickings of the Caribbean to the other scouts and sent her off to chase the long shot, the backwater island group that had never hosted a big film shoot before. She was sure the other scouts weren’t getting the same run around.
Still, until today, she’d been convinced she could prove him wrong. That feeling she’d had ever since she could remember that something amazing was just around the corner, seemed stronger than ever.
Gran had always said she had good instincts, and from the moment she’d seen the satellite images of these islands, Kenzie’s instincts had been screaming at her.
She sighed and closed her eyes. Perhaps her instincts were lying. It wouldn’t be the first time. And after ten years of trying one job after another and never finding that dream, her usual optimism was starting to take a beating.
What did Gran know, anyhow? The last time Kenzie had visited the nursing home, Gran hadn’t even recognised her.
She didn’t argue when the bartender refilled her mojito glass. She lifted it in a toast to her drinking companion. “Sod them all.”
He raised his drink and grinned. “Sod them all.”
They drank in silence, and when she was done, Kenzie pushed her glass away. Three mojitos on an empty stomach was her limit for one day.
She needed to regroup. She needed a back up plan.
After all, she’d been in the film business long enough now to know that nothing ever went according to plan the first time round. There was always a Plan B. Or C or D. And somehow everything always worked out in the end.
She would make it. She was destined for great things, and this movie would be the beginning. She’d start with some positive thinking and an attitude adjustment.
Plastering on her best ‘I just know you’re gonna love me’ smile, she held out her hand. “I’m Mackenzie Cole. My friends call me Kenzie.”
He gave her outstretched hand a perfunctory shake. “Rik.”
“You have a surname?”
“None that matters.”
She rolled her eyes. “So Rik, what do you do for a living?”
“Nothing much.”
Hmm. So he was going to play the Mystery Man. She squinted suspiciously at him. “You’re not some trust fund baby out for a good time, are you?”
“Do I look like I’m having a good time?” The mockery was back in his eyes, but this time she guessed it was aimed more at himself than at her.
She shrugged. Whatever shadows he carried, she wanted no part of them. She was done with men who needed fixing. Besides, her plane ticket was booked for three days from now. That wasn’t enough time to fix whatever was broken with Rik My-Name-Doesn’t-Matter, even if she hadn’t already had her fill of bad boys.
She and Lee had sworn a vow – from now on they were dating nice men only. Gentlemen. The kind who didn’t bring trouble in their wake. Her BFF would kill her if she weakened barely two weeks in.
So back to work. She toyed with her glass. “How does a girl with no local connections and a burning need to be heard get an audience with the mayor?” It was a rhetorical question. She didn’t really expect an answer from either the latter day pirate or the bartender.
She should have known she’d get one anyway.
“You don’t. You go home and tell your boss not to send a girl to do a man’s job.”
Between one breath and the next, the red haze descended, staining her vision with anger. She slammed her hands down on the bar counter. “I can’t and I won’t go back a failure!”
Rik eyed the little firecracker over the rim of his glass and grinned. She was certainly living up to the flaming colour of her hair. He admired her spirit, misguided as it was.
“If you’re not going to do the sensible thing and drop it, then you’ll need an introduction. Someone who knows the