Training Days (7 page)

Kitty led a very disgruntled crew out of the restaurant car. Nick followed close at her heels, protesting. Morgan took over when Nick and Mark stopped by their compartment to pick up the camera and audio equipment, and she continued with her arguments against this juvenile idea almost until the moment Kitty called “action” on her interview with the train driver.

By late morning, when the train made a refueling stop at the tiny settlement of Cook, they had all but given up on trying to sway Kitty’s decision. Many of the passengers disembarked for the half-hour stop, not only to explore the place but also to watch the taping of Morgan being shown the sights by the two people who currently made up the entire population of the settlement. As soon as the train pulled out again, Kitty announced she needed to make some calls and retired to her compartment with her satellite phone and her laptop, advising she did not want to be disturbed. Morgan joined Mark and Nick in their shared accommodation. There they reviewed the footage shot that morning and bitched about their producer.

At twelve-thirty Morgan stood and stretched. “I’m going to freshen up, guys. See you at lunch.”

At ten to one Morgan eased into the booth at the far end of the restaurant car and slid across the plush upholstered seating to the window. She noticed that, although the booths were technically for four-person dining, the table was set for five. Another very cozy meeting.

“I’m guessing you still haven’t changed your mind about this little charade?” she said to Kitty, who slid in opposite her.

“No.” Kitty picked up the menu card and scrutinized it. She peered over the rim of her spectacles at Mark when he arrived and sat down next to Morgan. “You’re sitting with me today, remember. That’s Nick’s seat.” She frowned. “Where is he, by the way?”

Mark obediently changed places but rolled his eyes at Morgan once he was out of Kitty’s line of sight. “He’s still in our room. He’s not happy about this at all, Kitty.”

“And neither am I,” Morgan said for the umpteenth time since Kitty had announced her little plan over breakfast.

Kitty checked her watch, pulled out her phone and dialed. She thrummed her fingers on the blood-red linen tablecloth then spoke a very curt “where are you?” into the mouthpiece. She snapped the phone shut and announced to the rest of the table, “He’ll be here in a minute.”

Morgan sat in silence until she saw Nick enter the restaurant. The poor guy looked like he was going to be sick. Her heart went out to him. During their midday bitch session, Nick had told Morgan there was a reason he was behind the camera and not in front of it—namely, because he hated being the focus of attention. He also admitted he couldn’t pull off a lie to save his life, and that this whole thing was going to end up in disaster. When Morgan advised him to tell Kitty this, Nick had just shaken his head and fallen into a nail-biting silence. Now, knowing it was her actions that had brought all this nonsense on, Morgan decided to tell Kitty herself. She paraphrased all Nick had told her and ended with one last plea: “Let’s just forget about this. We can have a nice lunch with Alison and once she sees we’re all nice,
normal
people, she’ll forget any ideas she may have about spreading any rumors.”

Kitty looked long and hard at Morgan. “Did you or did you not tell me last night to handle this how I wanted?”

“Yes,” Morgan reluctantly acknowledged.

“Well, this is how I am handling it,” she said brusquely, motioning for Nick to move a little closer to Morgan. “That’s better.” Kitty swiveled in the direction of the carriage’s far entrance and immediately turned back to the table. “She’s here,” she whispered. A bright smile transformed her features and she swiveled around again, this time to give a little “we’re over here” wave above the ornate clear-glass partitions that separated each booth.

Morgan watched the woman—Alison—approach. The description Kitty had given last night was accurate. She was around Kitty’s middling height, and around Kitty’s age, maybe a little older. She also had Kitty’s slight build and the same light-brown hair. But she had none of Kitty’s birdlike features and, unlike Kitty’s loose bun, Alison wore her hair in a short, very urbane style. So at first glance, while they were physically similar enough that they could technically share their wardrobes, their senses of style were so different that it seemed unlikely they would own anything the other wanted to wear.

The sound of Kitty’s attention-getting cough halted Morgan’s scrutiny of their luncheon guest. She focused on her producer, who was fixedly eyeing both Nick and her.

“Now, for God’s sake, you two,” Kitty appealed. “If not for me then for the sake of the show . . . at least
try
to look like lovers.”

When the waiter presented Ally with her main course, she looked intently at the crispy-skinned duck with a mandarin confit. Something was wrong. Not with the food. That looked delicious. And if her appetizer of barbequed chili king prawns with a coriander squid salad had set the standard, then her duck promised to be rather special. No, there was nothing wrong with the food. Rather, something was not sitting right with this situation. Ally waited until her dining companions had also been presented with their plates before picking up her cutlery. And then, before she took her first bite she stole another glance around the table, trying hard to pinpoint just what was niggling at the back of her brain.

Whatever it was, it just wouldn’t come to the fore. Ally inwardly shrugged. Maybe she was just being overly suspicious, looking for something that wasn’t there. Goodness knew the train had cut through many miles while she sat in the diner carriage that morning mulling over why she had received this unexpected invitation to lunch. Initially she wondered if she would be “made an offer” to keep quiet. But she soon discarded that theory. She’d made it very clear to Kitty that she couldn’t care less what Morgan did behind closed doors, and the logical extrapolation of that was that she wouldn’t waste her time telling anyone about it. So bribery was off the list. Then she wondered if Morgan was trying to appease herself for sending her to steerage. On review of her early morning conversation with Kitty, however, Ally also threw that idea out. Kitty had asked if Ally had found her correct compartment, so obviously they had no idea she was now slumming it. And since her accommodation situation had not been mentioned once since she arrived, they no doubt didn’t care what corner of the train she’d been squeezed into.

Ally took a sip of her cabernet sauvignon, aware she was sinking into dark thoughts again. She made a conscious effort to sweep them away and just enjoy this for what it was, a very fine lunch in much more opulent surrounds than the cafeteria-like décor of the Red diner car. And, dark thoughts aside, she had to admit she was having a much better time than she had expected. True, she still thought Kitty was uptight and altogether false, but her presence was more than compensated by the other members of the
Bonnes Vacances
crew.

Even Morgan.

Ally had caught her first real-life glimpse of her earlier that morning, after returning to her seat next to Marge. Morgan had been walking through the carriage behind Kitty, apparently on their way to do some filming. Ally only knew this because Marge had waved wildly at Morgan, who stopped and gave a distracted hello. She had not looked at Ally at all, and in fact gave Marge only the merest of glances, saying she was on a tight schedule and that she had to fly. Afterward, Marge smiled at Ally and patted her on the hand, saying how Morgan must be so busy. But Ally could tell she was disappointed. It was at that moment her already dim view of the woman darkened even further. Marge, in contrast, was not one to dwell on negatives, and once word got around that more filming would take place at the Cook stop, she could hardly contain herself until the train drew to a standstill. Ally had followed Marge outside into suffocating heat, but she had not contributed to the audience that formed around Morgan & Co., choosing instead to meander around the settlement by herself. When she and Marge settled back into their seats Marge had been all chatter about the filming process. Apparently her efforts to get Morgan’s attention when filming ceased were as unfruitful as earlier, her being “very involved” with talking to the cameraman. Ally had not commented, but her view of Morgan as the stuck-up star had been doubly reinforced.

So, when Ally arrived at the table and was in turn introduced to everyone by Kitty, she had given Morgan a cold glance combined with an even colder greeting. But despite her best efforts to keep her dislike for the woman alive, by the time they had been served their appetizers, she found her preformed opinion melting.

Ally’s cynical side warned her that Morgan’s welcoming demeanor and seemingly genuine interest in what Ally had to say were probably both carefully cultivated traits that could be called up at will. And it was also her cynical side—or maybe it was just the female tendency toward bitchiness that reared its head whenever confronted with a particularly beautiful woman—that told her Morgan had no doubt won her position with the television network courtesy of the casting couch. Her less cynical side admitted she was probably seeing the woman for what she really was—a genuinely likable person who had not only striking good looks, but also a keen mind and a certain charisma that drew people around her like moths to a flame. A formidable combination, and no doubt her presence was one of the reasons, as Kitty made sure to point out,
Bonnes Vacances
kept topping the ratings.

Just as likable was Mark. To Ally’s mind he could have been a poster boy for the stereotypical laid-back Australian bloke. Not that he was especially handsome. His nose was a little too big and his ears stuck out a little too much from under a mop of sandy-colored sun-bleached hair. But he was obviously comfortable in his own skin, and what he lacked in looks he made up for in personality. Ally felt instantly at ease with the man and was glad he formed a buffer between her and Kitty, him squashed between them in a space meant only to accommodate two. Their close arrangement had lasted only as long as the aperitif because once the appetizers arrived it became apparent the three of them would either have to take turns eating or have a constant clash of cutlery. After consultation with the waiter, a chair materialized and Ally took her place at the head of the table, which had the advantage of now allowing her to see all of her dining companions without obstruction. But since she was now smack in the middle of the corridor—not the most convenient of locations— she had to draw her chair as close to the table as possible to allow the staff to squeeze past.

Another disadvantage of her new position was that it impinged on the legroom of Nick. Long and lanky, he had been jutting one leg into the corridor and moving it out of the way each time a waiter or fellow diner passed by. Now, after knocking knees with her on at least three occasions, he had folded his legs under the table and kept them there, unmoving. She imagined it must be quite uncomfortable as he wore a rather pained look on his face. Or maybe his pained expression was due to the intense looks Kitty kept throwing at him. For what reason the poor guy was being targeted, Ally could not surmise. Personally, she found him rather sweet and unassuming, and definitely inoffensive.

Ally shifted in her seat, and not just to avoid her head being knocked by the waiter who was about to pass behind her chair, but because she was again getting the feeling that something was not quite right. From the corner of her eye she had caught another look thrown at Nick, this time Kitty tilting her head almost imperceptibly toward Morgan as she peered over her spectacles, her brow furrowed.

What the hell was going on between those two? Ally wondered.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Mark. “How’s the duck?” he asked, gazing a little enviously at her plate. “It looks really good.”

“It is.” Ally cut a piece of the breast, topped it with a smear of confit and held out her fork. “Do you want to try?”

“Sure.” Mark took the fork from her hand. He chewed slowly before returning the fork to Ally. “Damn, that
is
good. I think I might order that tonight.”

“You’re as bad as a woman for changing her mind.” Morgan rolled her eyes at him before glancing at Ally. “Last night he swore he would have the steak for
every
meal.”

“Well, it’s darn good steak.” Mark shrugged, taking a bite of his fillet. He picked up his beer and took a large swallow. “But variety is the spice of life. Is it not, Mogs?”

“Definitely.” Morgan winked at him as she reached across the table to clink her glass against Mark’s. “I always say—”

Kitty coughed. “What do you think of the steak, Morgan?”

Morgan looked pointedly at her snapper fillet. “How would I know? I ordered the fish.”

“Nick?” Kitty questioned, an edge of impatience in her voice. “How’s your steak?”

Nick had been concentrating hard on the act of eating. He glanced up from his plate. “Huh?”

“I said . . .” Now there was definite irritation in Kitty’s tone, even though Ally noticed she was at pains to control it. She also caught another covert tilt of her head in Morgan’s direction. “Your steak looks good. Maybe someone else would like to try it, too.”

“Oh.” A flash of realization crossed Nick’s features just at the moment Morgan accepted Mark’s proffered steak-laden fork. He quickly cut a portion and offered it to Kitty. “Here you go.”

For a single moment Kitty just stared at Nick, a look of disbelief on her face. Ally was almost sure she heard her mutter “Jesus Christ” under her breath. Then her demeanor changed completely and she waved coyly in Nick’s direction. “Oh . . . stop joking around, Nick. Morgan’s going to get jealous.” She picked up her fork and loaded it with some of the herbed potato mash that accompanied her lamb cutlet. The fork was brought to her mouth, but she stopped short of eating, seemingly giving a thought some consideration before saying it out loud. “You’ve probably noticed by now, so there’s no point trying to keep it a secret. Morgan and Nick are”—Kitty winked at Ally—“you know . . .”