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THE AFTERNOON'S SHOOT went a little better. Sure enough, the rugby union players came out dressed in league shirts of a different colour and Dexter got them all rehearsing on a piece of ground that had been thoroughly soaked during the lunchbreak. Each shot was filmed through a fake shower of rain and the players' hair was made to look wet.
Dexter yelled and begged and praised and pleaded and finally got all the shots he wanted: ball being kicked, ball being passed, cheering crowd, various tackles, dodges and kick-backs. "We'll buy that!" meant the shot had been successful. "Cut! Cut! Cut!" meant the opposite. They heard "Cut! Cut! Cut!" quite a lot.
Then the bus bell rang and half the actors left. "Oi! Where are you going?" squawked Dexter.
"Bus!" they all said and didn't stop.
"Costumes back to the truck!" Dexter yelled after them.
"Yes sir!" and they were gone.
Dexter looked over the remainder. "So, who have I got left?" His eye fell upon Randy and Piho. "Ah, good, you're both still here. I need you in the final shot. And who else can stay for about another hour?" There were plenty of volunteers.
Once again the cameras were repositioned, this time beyond the goal posts, and the gofers got busy creating a big patch of mud on the try line. They brought in several wheelbarrows full of pre-mixed gloop and spread it down thickly. They also had a second camera filming everything. 'The Making Of' camera. They’d gotten used to it.
Randy, Piho and the others didn't give this much attention because they were further up the paddock listening to Dexter. He seemed to be loving his job, finally.
"Okay boys, here's the situation: it's nearly full time and the visiting team are still winning, then a couple of last-minute tries turn it around and you win. You:" he picked out Piho and flicked him a ball, "you're ten metres from the try-line and you make the breakaway; you're going for the posts; you glance left; you glance right; the enemy team are closing in so in desperation you dive for the line and do a big beautiful slide! Got it?"
'Yeah!" Piho grinned because he was going to be the one scoring the try. The mudslide sounded like fun too. They rehearsed it three times while Dexter set up the other players to run in from various angles to create the whole action scene, then he said, "It's looking good, guys, looking good! Now you:" he spun the second ball to Randy, "to save time we'll shoot you exactly the same, you just come in five seconds after him. But don’t worry, we’ll edit and cut it later. It’ll look good. So everyone: understand: we're shooting these two scenes back-to-back – that means the cameras won't stop. Okay?"
After a few more practices they were ready. Everyone knew their moves.
"All right!" said Dexter. "Let's get down to the goal line and actually shoot it." He paced out the shot and scuffed the ground in two places. "First group start here. Second group here."
Randy got onto his mark, nervously rotating the ball in his hands. Fifteen hundred dollars just to do this? Wow!
"All right!" called Dexter from behind the camera, "Piho, once you've scored your try, get straight up and run right through here past the camera, the rest of you run right through too, right through to the left. Your left! then I'll call the next group. Okay? Now, Piho, Randy, I want you to really splat down in that mud and slide, all right? Slide! Got it?”
“Yup.” “Yup.” Nod. Nod.
“Here we go; this is a take. Positions! Start the rain ... lovely... aaand roll camera!"
"Camera rolling."
". . . aaaaud action!"
Piho made the breakaway, glanced left, glanced right, dodged a tackle, dived, and splat! He hit the mud beautifully and slid several metres. The home team cheered and waved their arms triumphantly and the whole first group went running through as instructed. Piho got up, spluttering and shaking off the mud, a look of disgust on his face.
"Through! Keep going! Next group; go-go-go!" Randy was off with his breakaway, clutching the ball with his right arm while he pistoned away with his left, trying for all the world to look like a real league star. He took his first glance left, second glance right, fended off a tackle - beautiful- then came the dive.
Splat! Slide! Yes!
Except it was not mud - it was Pure Manure!
Dexter and the camera crew were laughing so hard they nearly wet themselves. They slapped their thighs and went "Yes, yes, yes!"
"Got it!" shouted Dexter triumphantly, "Good one, boys!"
Randy lifted his face from the filth and spat. It tasted bad, real bad. He spat again. The bastards! He looked up. The second camera was still running, catching every detail.
"Revenge, my boy!" said Dexter, coming across to take Randy's hand and help him to his feet, "Sweet revenge."
"Furh, ptuh!" spat Randy, refusing Dexter's help and taking Piho's hand instead. 'What did you do that for? "
"I could ask you the same question," said Dexter, becoming very serious and dangerous-sounding and puffing up in sudden rage. "I could even present you with the cleaning bill for the inside of my van and all our clothing! But..." he turned and gestured at the camera (still rolling), "this will do instead. It'll look pretty good on Bloopers and Practical Jokes."
Randy spat again and flicked off some more blobs of horse muck. "Well, you shouldn't have had your blimmin' windows open!" he snapped as if it had all been Dexter's fault.
The big man leaned forward over Randy, jutting out his chin and his eyebrows and his big beer gut. "Don't you think we had far more right to drive through the country with our windows open than you had to entertain yourselves at our expense?"
"We weren't-" began Randy when Piho nudged him in the ribs with a slippery, greenish-brown elbow.
"Just leave it, eh?" Piho whispered.
"No!" Randy whispered back, his voice louder.
"I said leave it!" Piho hissed, making cutting gestures under his chin.
Randy glared at Piho. "Why?" he demanded to know.
Piho glared back. "Because!"
"But it's not fair!"
"Too bad! Let's just apologise to the man, get our money, and go!"
"What?" laughed Dexter. 'We're not finished yet, boys!"
"Huh?" said Piho like a popping balloon.
Dexter said, "You're working all weekend, remember?"
"Who says? No one told us that."
"It's on your contracts, boys: 'the fourth, fifth, and sixth of March, or agreeable postponement dates in bad weather'. Didn't you read your contracts?"
"Awwwwuh," they groaned, "All weekend?"
"Yup."
"Sheesh!"
"First rule of showbiz, kid - always read your contract," said Dexter, then he seemed to cheer up and get real friendly. "Anyway we're done with the dirty bit. The rest of the shoot is going to be pure fun. Now," he stuck out his hand for a handshake, "as far as I'm concerned there's no more hard feelings about the van. Okay?"
"Okay, no more hard feelings," agreed Piho, quickly wiping his right hand on the poopiest side of his shorts then grabbing the director's hand. "I'm sorry I splattered your van. You sure got us back a beaut!"
"Yeah," Randy agreed reluctantly as he shook too, adding to Piho's first contribution of slime, "You win. Well played."
"Al1 right, thanks boys," said Dexter with a strained smile as he surreptitiously wiped his hand on the back of his pants. "Now we just want a couple of stills for Continuity, then you can head for the showers. Get those clothes back to Sandy in the big truck and you're free until tomorrow - seven a.m. at the Artesian Motel. You know where that is? Good."
Click-buzz, clich-buzz, went the big camera in the hands of Continuity (the city lady), then the crew turned back to their business and left them alone.
Feeling rather stunned, Randy and Piho began slopping their way back to the school buildings. "The whole weekend?" grumbled Randy. "Sheesh!"
"Think of the money, mate, think of the money!"
#
IT WAS FOUR-THIRTY by the time they had showered and changed and visited Wardrobe (where Beau was still hanging around chatting design with the wardrobe ladies) then picked up their bikes to leave. Outside the school gates Tammy waited to greet them.
"Hi, guys, I was watching. Gee, it looked like fun!"
"Yeah," they both agreed cheerlessly.
"Hey - I hear that you've both been picked to play extra parts, is that right?" she asked.
"Yeah," they admitted glumly.
"Lucky! Wish I'd been picked."
"Yeah," muttered Piho, "I wish everyone got the chance to do what we've just done."
"Yeah," said Tammy dreamily. "Poor Beau, she's dying to get a part."
"Well," said Piho more cheerfully, "there's still a nice big patch of - oof !" He was cut off by a quick elbow from Randy.
Tammy nodded her head in the direction of her home. "Hey, you guys got time to come in for lemonade or something?"
"Er ..." Randy was on the spot. He wanted to hang out with Piho a bit, but he also wanted to say yes to Tammy. "You in, Piho? She's got a cool pool."
"I dunno, it's kind of getting on and..."
"Yeah, it is a bit... but we'll walk with you, won't we, Pi?"
"Don't call me Pee!" growled Piho under his breath, then, "Sure, why not?" he said aloud.
They began walking. Tammy asked all sorts of questions about the filming. She was particularly interested in what sort of make-up the television people had used. This reminded Randy of something. When they got to Tammy's he said, "Ah, Piho ol' buddy, do you mind if I have a quick word with Tammy, like – alone?"
Pihos eye's sparkled for a moment, but he did not reveal what he might have been thinking. "Sure."
Randy and Tammy drifted towards the gate that led around to the pool, leaving Piho with the bikes.
"What's up?" she asked. "You seem awfully quiet."
Randy noticed that her hands were fluttering nervously like they had done the other day. Her voice seemed to flutter too.
"Uh," began Randy, still looking down at her hands. "It's just, like, when we were talking about make-up back there, I kind of remembered the other day..."
She turned more towards him, shifting her weight onto one leg and tilting her head slightly, "Yeah?"
He lifted his gaze, stopping at her lips. The sight of them sent something else fluttering - his stomach. "Um, well..." he began to say, then with sudden decisiveness he dug his hand into his pocket. "I want to give you this." He passed her Bennithorpe's fiver.
Tammy shook her head politely. "Oh you don't have to - "
"Yes I do have to!" he said fiercely. "It's about paying back a debt, and about, uh, saying thanks." He pushed it into her nearest hand and closed her fingers over it, like he'd seen it done on TV. "Get yourself another stick of liptube. I'm sorry about the other one."
She sighed and shifted uncomfortably, then smiled. "Okay," she said, "thank you. And by the way, it's called a tube of lipstick."
"Durr-uh!" said Randy, and slapped his forehead. She giggled. Then there was an uncomfortable silence. Randy cleared his throat. "Ahh, looks like I'll be busy all weekend, so I guess, like, we won't have much time ..."
She shrugged. "It's okay. Anyway I thought I'd probably come and watch the filming if that's okay with you."
"Oh, yeah, sure!"
"Thanks. And we'll have time again next Tuesday."
"Tuesday? What for?"
"It's our first afternoon at the stud farm. Our new after-school job," she smiled warmly. "Thanks to you!"
"Well, it was nothing really," he mumbled. He glanced back towards Piho, "Um, like, it's getting on, eh. So, ah, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"
She smiled, showing her lovely teeth. "Yeah, see ya."
He jiggled around nervously for a moment, wanting to do something deep and meaningful like take her by the hand, so instead he quickly said, "Bye!" and set off for home at a brisk, athletic-looking jog.
"Hey!" called Piho from behind him. "What about your bike?"
Randy looked for a moment like someone in sudden pain. Still jogging impressively he turned back, scooped his bike from Piho's hold, sprang onto it and swung back to his original path. His face was bright red.
It certainly didn't help when Piho caught up with him half a block later and said, "Hey, do you know you've still got horse poo stuck in your ear?"