ALASKAN FIRE Read online

  “All right, Jess?” Sam said, effectively ignoring Pauline.

  “Of course, Mr. Armstrong,” Jess replied, with a curt nod.

  Sam allowed Pauline to pull him away. I haven’t made any friends there, Jess thought depressingly, noting Pauline’s cool manner with her. In fact, probably the two people I should be getting on with at World Watch, I’m not, absent-mindedly coloring in the horns on the devil she had drawn and shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

  She looked up as Bill peered around the boardroom door. He gave her a friendly grin. “It’s not as bad as that, Jess. Want to run over the cat woman story with me?”

  Jess smiled, a genuine smile that lit up her eyes bringing true beauty to her face. “That will be great, Bill,” she said, gathering her papers. She missed the look of admiration on Bill’s pleasant face.

  Promptly at twelve o’clock, Jess presented herself at studio one. There followed a harrowing hour when she was transferred to make-up and subjected to a never-ending assortment of thick, gooey creams, powders and lipsticks applied to her face. Her hair was restyled and backcombed until it stood away from her head in a spiky, riotous mass. The wardrobe mistress draped different materials across her shoulders and breasts while Pam, the publicist, asked Jess numerous questions about her background, taking copious notes.

  At one o’clock Jess was marched to another studio where a photographer had set up a mass of technical equipment and various backdrops.

  Pam sat Jess in front of a backdrop of city buildings and then, after long whispered discussions with the photographer, moved her to sit in front of a country scene. Jess wondered whether they really knew what they were doing. Her face felt strange under the heavy make-up and the pink chiffon scarf tied around her throat made her itch. The lights were harsh in her eyes and her back ached from sitting still. Jess lowered her head for a moment, stretching the sore muscles in her slender neck. What a fuss. Why can’t they just let me get on with the job of reporting good stories?

  It was then she heard a disturbance. Sam was coming into the studio toward her. Pam and the other staff rushed over to him and she could sense their sudden apprehension. She understood why when she looked up to meet Sam’s thunderous expression. He didn’t speak for a moment but she could almost feel the rage boiling inside him.

  “For God’s sake, Pam! What have you done to her?” he exclaimed, turning to the publicist.

  “But, you said to glam her up for her publicity shots,” the woman said, her manner flustered and an unattractive blush coloring her face.

  “Not like that! Get that gunk off her.”

  He took a deep controlling breath as the make up girl quickly removed the offending mask. For some reason he hated seeing Jess like this--transformed into some sort of vamp. He knew intuitively it wasn’t her character. She needed to be soft and warm and yet…he frowned. There was something not right. Was she just aloof or was there a hint of fear in her eyes? Surely she wasn’t afraid of him? He crouched opposite her, his face on a level with hers but didn’t meet her stare as his eyes swept clinically over her face and hair. He quietly directed the girl on how to shade Jess’ cheekbones and place a soft blue eye shadow on her lids. He studied her full mouth and discussed a subtle colored lipstick with the make-up artist and photographer. Jess’ new image began to emerge.

  Jess squirmed in her seat. “Is this really necessary?” she asked.

  “You are the one who wants this job, Jessica, now you will have to put up with what goes with it, won’t you?” he said with a wry smile. “I told you it wouldn’t be easy. Besides, any other woman would revel in all this attention,” he went on with a sensual lift of his lips.

  Jess drew a deep breath as his voice faded into the background as she stared at his mouth. Heavens! She wondered if he could hear the sudden pounding of her heart. I’m like a stupid schoolgirl, she cursed. Her eyes slowly lifted to meet his knowing look. This time her face colored with embarrassment. He knows he has an affect on me, she thought, mortified at the realization.

  Abruptly Sam stood. What an idiot he was. The last think he wanted was an affair with his very new staff member and yet that look had knocked him for six. He hadn’t quite realized until now just how lovely she was.

  “I’m going to do some film shots,” he said, quickly disappearing behind the camera and peering through the lenses at her.

  Sam maneuvered the camera so it raised several meters in the air peering down at her with its searching eye. “Look up at me, Jess,” he directed.

  She obediently looked up at the camera, her face unknowingly reflecting her humiliation to the lens. Sam studied her for some moments. He motioned to the photographer to place another backdrop behind Jess, a plain blue sheet. Jess closed her eyes, thinking how much she hated this. Sam was manipulating her like a puppet. Someone brushed her stiff, lacquered hair until it lay nestled around her head in its normal black, shining cap. She jerked back when Sam’s lean fingers pulled the hair into wisps across her forehead and gritted her teeth as he explained to the others why her hair should be done in this way. She felt like shouting to hell with his job but that was probably what Sam wanted. It would suit him fine if she resigned. He could employ his so-called ‘experienced journalist.’ Well, she wasn’t going to give him the pleasure.

  “Jess, turn your head and smile,” she heard him ask from behind the still camera again. She complied and he sighed in exasperation.

  “Not like that!” he groaned. His hands tilted her head at an awkward angle. Another difficult hour went by. Sam wasn’t happy with any of Jess’ expressions and, at one stage, pulled away the pink chiffon scarf from around her neck and sent one of the girls to borrow someone’s long, dangling earrings that he fastened on her ears.

  At last he called a halt. “Well, that’s the still shots done,” he said, his expression unreadable. “Now Jess, I’ll film you for the television promo, so follow my directions again.”

  Instead Jess got up from her chair and stretched her stiff and aching limbs.

  “What’s the problem?” Sam asked.

  “She needs a break,” Pam said quietly.

  “What?” Sam ran a hand through his thick hair as he stared at Jess who was pressing her hands into the aching hollow of her back. His eyes suddenly lit up as he watched her.

  “Pam, I want to do something different for this promotion. Get some casual clothes for Jess to wear. Jeans and pullover will do. I’ll go and rustle up Nick. Come on!” he urged. “We’re going on location.”

  Jess testily wondered what this would involve and later, when she arrived home at her tiny flat, she couldn’t believe what Sam had put her through.

  Firstly, they had driven to a funfair where Sam had directed Nick, the cameraman, on a series of takes. Sam insisted on umpteen shots of Jess on merry-go-rounds and rides and even the Big Dipper, much to her dismay.

  Sam encouraged her to lighten up and laugh into the camera as she was filmed from various angles. Fortunately, Pam managed to sneak Jess a cup of coffee and a sandwich whilst Sam and Nick held one of their numerous discussions. Jess smiled her gratitude as she was feeling quite queasy after umpteen rides on the Big Dipper and was regretting not eating lunch before the shoot. It didn’t help that a crowd of interested spectators gathered at each spot where they filmed and watched everything avidly.

  The worst part was when they drove to the coast and Sam wanted her to jump from a high sand dune so they could film her as if she was flying.

  “This is ridiculous. I can’t do it,” Jess grumbled after three aborted attempts.

  “Of course you can,” Sam said far below her. “Look, I’ll stand half way and catch you. Come on.”

  She stared helplessly at his tall figure, elegant even in the jeans and leather jacket he had changed into for the shoot. Shutting her eyes and with a silent prayer, she launched herself into space crashing into Sam with a great thud. His arms came around her as the impact made him loose his balance. They rolled together over and
over down the rest of the dune. Jess opened her eyes to find Sam lying on top of her grinning into her face. They were both covered with sand and Jess was clutching hold of Sam as if she would never let him go.

  Her face burned at the memory of her breasts crushed against his hard chest and the feel of his hips digging into her stomach. “Phew! This is fun, isn’t it?” he panted, trying to catch his breath. He blew lightly on her face puffing the sand away.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, unable to speak and her expression cool. He simply laughed and pulled her to her feet, as the others came running over.

  “Let’s have a look at the playback, Nick,” he shouted. “We won’t do any more takes of this shot, it’s too dangerous.” Jess gave him a sideways glance wondering what he meant but Sam had already walked away.

  “Perfect!” he said when he viewed the playback turning the monitor off before Jess could see it. “Come on, one more shot at the harbor before the light goes.”

  Jess dutifully let them arrange her with the Sydney Harbor Bridge as a backdrop, the late spring sun casting long, golden shadows across her features.

  Sam knelt beside her and she was not sure whether it was the evening breeze or the nearness of this dynamic man that made her shiver. “We’re nearly finished now, Jess,” he whispered, his warm hands enveloping hers. “Look up slowly to the Bridge and then down again. I want you to look poignantly sad. Think of the worse thing that has happened to you lately or think what a bastard I am, if you like,” he laughed. She found that was easy. They only did three takes when Sam called it a wrap.

  They arrived at the office at seven o’clock. The others disappeared to their respective homes and Jess, brewing on what she believed would be the end result of this planned promotion, had determinedly spoken out.

  “I am very uncomfortable about this, Mr. Armstrong,” she said as Sam shrugged himself into his jacket.

  “Sorry, Jess. Will you talk to me about it tomorrow? Unfortunately, I’ve an appointment now,” he said, walking towards the door, and with that he was gone.

  Jess sat down to her lonely dinner in her bed-sitter. For almost the first time she analytically studied the tiny lounge with its ugly, old-fashioned furniture. Not the nicest of environments, she mused, even though she had placed many of her family photos and prized ornaments on the mantelpiece and dresser in an endeavor to make the flat more homely and attractive. The early spring daffodils that she hadn’t been able to resist buying shone brilliantly in the gloom of the gathering dusk.

  She allowed herself a faint smile as she thought of her day with Sam. It was just as well he hadn’t had time to speak to her. In retrospect, she needed to prepare herself. He has made up his mind he will keep me in the job, for the time being anyway, and is going to exploit me in some way, she pondered. But how? Will he promote her as a light-weight reporter? From the filming he had done with her today, it would certainly appear that was his plan. She had to know and the only way was to pluck up her courage and ask him. Surely he would understand that she wanted to achieve in her chosen career and do great stories. Like him--her journalist mentor, if he did but know it. The man who had driven her to succeed at University topping her course with flying colors with one thought in mind--to be as good a journalist as Sam Armstrong.

  Jess picked at her meal and then pushed the plate away feeling a sudden lurch of homesickness. She was lonely. It had been such a big move coming to Sydney away from the comfort of her parents’ home and her friends. Except for her stint at University in Adelaide, Jess had lived her life quite happily in country South Australia. She didn’t know anyone in Sydney and it had taken all her courage to move here. She hadn’t realized she would be so homesick.

  She even wished for a moment that Tom were here--that is, the Tom she used to know before he changed. They had shared so much and she really thought they would marry and live happily together. Why had he turned into such a monster? At first, she had laughed at his sudden bouts of jealousy, even flattered by his loving, but obsessive attention. Then it had gradually become more frequent until Tom insisted on knowing where she was and to whom she had spoken, every moment of the day and night. When Tom began to follow her, Jess still good-naturedly put up with it, even though her girlfriends stressed their concerns.

  Then, one night she went to the movies without telling him. Tom had flown into a jealous rage and had beaten her. She had been so ashamed, keeping the attack secret as she somehow blaming herself for causing Tom’s problems even though he had sworn it would never happen again. But that was when Jess knew she had to get away because she was sure the next time he would kill her.

  She buried her head in her hands as feelings of despair swept over her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The next morning Jess ventured into the Executive offices and asked Sam’s secretary, Angela, if she could see him for a few moments.

  “Sorry, love,” came the friendly reply. “Sam is in one of the editing suites all morning preparing some stories for next week’s program. I can only disturb him if it is urgent. I could get you into see him for ten minutes at three o’clock.”

  Jess sighed with exasperation. “I’m out on my first job then,” she said. “I guess I’ll have to see him tomorrow.”

  “Better make an appointment, Jessica. Sam is a mighty busy man and you can’t just pop in and see him anytime.” Angela softened her words with a warm smile as she brought up his diary on her computer and Jess reluctantly made an appointment for the next day. She was learning by the moment it was vastly different working in big time television and whether she liked it or not, she had a lot to learn. She ruefully considered the difference between the small team of six who had produced Channel 12’s nightly news compared with the complexities of World Watch.

  Early that afternoon she and Bill and a camera crew drove to the Sydney suburb of Chatswood to meet with the cat woman. After spending a little time endeavoring to question the woman while the crew set up their equipment, Jess excused herself to speak to Bill who was talking to the office on his mobile.

  “How’re you going?” he said, as he closed the mobile.

  “Bill, she’s quite, quite mad.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Firstly, she won’t come out of her house so we’ll have to film inside.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Bill, I went into her place and there are literally hundreds of cats everywhere. As for the stink…” Jess pulled an expressive face.

  “Oh, heck!” Bill frowned with irritation. “Can’t we just talk to her?”

  “She speaks in gibberish and keeps meowing all the time. I can’t get any sense from her.” Jess burst out laughing at Bill’s expression.

  “Hells bells!” he cursed. “Well, we’ll get footage of her and the cats while we’re here and you can add some research on magic and black cats to round it off.”

  Eventually, Bill sent one of the cameramen and a sound guy into the house to shoot some film of the strange woman and her countless cat friends. They returned, their faces a sickly green in color and their clothes reeking with putrid smells.

  Back at the studio, Jess spent the rest of the afternoon in the library and managed to retrieve some interesting information and file footage. Bill was still doubtful about whether the story was strong enough but they decided to complete it the following morning. Jess was pleased with it overall, but her face dropped when Bill explained it still needed Sam’s approval. When she thought about it she realized he was bound to want to analyze all her stories in the first few weeks. She wondered when Sam was due to travel away because she was certain her life would be a lot easier if he wasn’t around.

  Her appointment was at one o’clock. She steeled herself for the meeting and decided she would never feel relaxed and comfortable with Sam, unlike the other staff members.

  “Ah, Jess,” he said, rising from his chair as she tentatively entered his office. “I have the rough-cut of your first s
tory here. Let’s have a look at it, shall we?”

  Jess sat in the chair he held out for her and faced the daunting panel of monitors. Sam placed the tape in one of the machines and sat next to her to watch the story. It was seven minutes long and Jess stole occasional glances at Sam to gauge his reactions, but he watched in silence, not a flicker of emotion crossing his features. The tension built within Jess. She believed the story had turned out well in the end.

  Between Bill and herself they had ventured into the mystic world of cats spending a good deal of the segment on the history of the feline and how they had first been domesticated in the time of the Ancient Egyptians and had evolved over the centuries.

  There was a lot of research in the piece and Bill had even agreed to a few seconds of footage showing the mad cat woman surrounded by her pets.

  When it had finished, Sam switched off the video and looked at Jess, an enigmatic expression on his face.

  “It won’t do Jess,” he said, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

  “Why not? What’s wrong with it? “Jess said more sharply than she intended, her heart sinking.

  “It’s too weak and lacks any dynamite. It isn’t even fun.”

  Don’t pull any punches, will you, Jess thought, as she glared at him from under her lashes.

  “And don’t look at me like that. I asked you to make the story light and frothy, give it some spark.”

  “Don’t blame me. It was a terrible story to start with and at least I generated some interesting data,” she fumed, standing up, drawing herself to her full height.

  “It doesn’t need any interesting data,” Sam said bluntly. “It needs a good journalist to breathe life into it, to make her audience feel great and laugh along with her. You were like a wooden doll.”

  “That’s just what I want to talk to you about,” Jess cried, taking a step closer to him as her eyes sparked into his cool, green ones. “You are turning me into a puppet. You are trying to create a dizzy dolly bird out of me for some reason of your own. Well, I wasn’t employed to be your bimbo reporter and if you have any sense or integrity you would realize by now.” Jess stopped to draw breath realizing she had gone too far.