LJ Idol Season 9, Week 2: "The Missing Stair"
"Almost Perfect"
"Could you slow down a little? The spray's getting everywhere!" I held my hand in front of my face, trying to see through the water and the fog.
"Ah, come on, live a little, Steve!" Laura shouted back at me. "If the boss is going to let me use a motorboat, I'm going to enjoy it!"
She guided the small craft through the fog, glancing down occasionally at the map book on the dock. "Almost there..." I sat back down and continued to look for our landing place. Eventually, the wooden pier appeared on our starboard side. "There it is!" we exclaimed simultaneously.
Laura slowed down and eased the Blackmail up next to the dock, while I jumped out and attached the moor lines. As the engine shut off, I extended a hand to Laura to help her out of the boat, which she accepted. We stood on the dock and looked around.
"This is perfect," I said, thinking aloud. "The fog sets it off perfectly, and the pier is just old and abandoned enough to look shady."
"Agreed on the construction," Laura said, nodding, "but I'm not sure we can count on the fog."
"It's England; it's the coast; it's November. We can count on the fog."
Laura nodded, then began walking up the steps to get a view from the end of the pier. Once there, she pulled her coat around her to protect from the chill winds. "Do you think the actors will be comfortable shooting here?"
"He doesn't care," I called back. "They may as well be props to him." I started up the steps, counting as I went. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen. I reached the middle landing and looked up. "The staircase looks good too. You can get some dramatic angles out of this."
Laura descended the stairs, and I counted her steps as she did. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen. She stopped in front of me. "You're right, this is perfect."
I did some math in my head. "Maybe not," I muttered as I ascended the flight she had just descended, double checking my count. Once at the top, I cursed under my breath.
"What's wrong?" Laura asked, as I descended again, slowly, going all the way back down to the bottom, counting again. When I reached the bottom, I shook my head.
"It's not going to work," I called out. "We're one short."
Laura sighed. "Really? You think anyone's going to notice?"
"You know how the fans are. They will notice. And they won't like it." I looked off into the fog. "Maybe we can change the title."
"Nope," Laura said, exasperated, as she joined me by the boat. "It's based on a book. We can't change it."
I shook my head, then walked over and stepped gingerly into the boat. Laura followed suit, making her way to the front. "Where's the next possibility?"
"About a mile to the west," I said, joining her at the controls. "Though if you don't mind, I'd like to take this thing for a ride."
Laura smiled and went to remove the moor lines. As I revved the engine, she looked back up at the pier, and the thirty-eight stairs that led up to it.
"It is exactly what we're looking for," she said ruefully. "If only Mr. Hitchcock weren't so detail-oriented."
"Could you slow down a little? The spray's getting everywhere!" I held my hand in front of my face, trying to see through the water and the fog.
"Ah, come on, live a little, Steve!" Laura shouted back at me. "If the boss is going to let me use a motorboat, I'm going to enjoy it!"
She guided the small craft through the fog, glancing down occasionally at the map book on the dock. "Almost there..." I sat back down and continued to look for our landing place. Eventually, the wooden pier appeared on our starboard side. "There it is!" we exclaimed simultaneously.
Laura slowed down and eased the Blackmail up next to the dock, while I jumped out and attached the moor lines. As the engine shut off, I extended a hand to Laura to help her out of the boat, which she accepted. We stood on the dock and looked around.
"This is perfect," I said, thinking aloud. "The fog sets it off perfectly, and the pier is just old and abandoned enough to look shady."
"Agreed on the construction," Laura said, nodding, "but I'm not sure we can count on the fog."
"It's England; it's the coast; it's November. We can count on the fog."
Laura nodded, then began walking up the steps to get a view from the end of the pier. Once there, she pulled her coat around her to protect from the chill winds. "Do you think the actors will be comfortable shooting here?"
"He doesn't care," I called back. "They may as well be props to him." I started up the steps, counting as I went. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen. I reached the middle landing and looked up. "The staircase looks good too. You can get some dramatic angles out of this."
Laura descended the stairs, and I counted her steps as she did. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen. She stopped in front of me. "You're right, this is perfect."
I did some math in my head. "Maybe not," I muttered as I ascended the flight she had just descended, double checking my count. Once at the top, I cursed under my breath.
"What's wrong?" Laura asked, as I descended again, slowly, going all the way back down to the bottom, counting again. When I reached the bottom, I shook my head.
"It's not going to work," I called out. "We're one short."
Laura sighed. "Really? You think anyone's going to notice?"
"You know how the fans are. They will notice. And they won't like it." I looked off into the fog. "Maybe we can change the title."
"Nope," Laura said, exasperated, as she joined me by the boat. "It's based on a book. We can't change it."
I shook my head, then walked over and stepped gingerly into the boat. Laura followed suit, making her way to the front. "Where's the next possibility?"
"About a mile to the west," I said, joining her at the controls. "Though if you don't mind, I'd like to take this thing for a ride."
Laura smiled and went to remove the moor lines. As I revved the engine, she looked back up at the pier, and the thirty-eight stairs that led up to it.
"It is exactly what we're looking for," she said ruefully. "If only Mr. Hitchcock weren't so detail-oriented."