Double Vision

Lima was in the midst of a wild storm when Sycamore’s plane touched down in the Jorge Chavez airport. They had made a difficult landing to say the least and the unhappy sound of her fellow passenger’s retching still rang in her ears. Trust her luck to be placed next to the only guy on the plane who could hurl for his country. With her nose wrinkling from the memory she hailed a cab and told the friendly driver to get her to the nearest place that had a shower. Reservations were set up for her at the Melia Hotel, just a few minutes away, but she decided to take up residence in that luxury hotel after she had checked out what Lima had to offer, she wasn’t quite ready to be bullied and underappreciated in opulent surroundings just yet. Officially Sycamore’s role in Peru was as the stunt double to a lead actress in a new multi billion dollar film being shot in the jungle. Unofficially, she would probably appear in more scenes than the actress meant to be playing the role. The requirements for being a stunt double were, contradictorily, a lot of training in special skills, strength, agility, fearlessness, a fair degree of stupidity, tolerance and the body shape that can easily be mistaken for any of the anorexic goddesses of lust that strutted around Hollywood in stiletto heels.
Sycamore regarded stunt doubling as a hobby, one she genuinely enjoyed, but she frequently became frustrated with the fact that the roles she was required to fill often required her to wear high heels and a padded bra.
What, she was often heard to comment, was so unacceptable about her modest C-cup? It wasn’t as though any viewer was really standing there with a measuring tape. The only response she received were incredulous looks from her all-male crew, leaving her in no doubt about the real reason men watched the movies she was in. Apparently it was less that they applauded the breaking down of the traditional female home-body stereotype and more that the new stereotype of a weapon wielding, ass kicking woman wore leather and had boobs that ensured her feet never got sunburned. Helpless in the face of such obvious chauvinist values Sycamore was at a bit of a loss at times and simply fueled her feminist anger into beating the shit out of every movie bad guy they threw at her. It was filmmaking legend that any movie with Sycamore Byrd in it had action scenes which were not planned through before hand, they were spectacular enough raw.
But back to the present, the taxi driver, obviously having had looked at her comfortable, casual clothing and decided that a lower middle class motel would suffice had dropped her outside one such building. Sycamore gave it the once over and decided that it was likely there was no hot water but unlikely that she would have to share her room with rats, it was good enough. Leaving the cabby with a generous tip above his exorbitant fee she shouldered her bag and entered the hotel.

Clay had met Mike at the airport in Sydney. Mike was his most reliable, and unfortunately most irritating, contact with the international art underworld. Being a collector was a great hobby for Clay, he loved it. He could not deny however, a certain fascination about the shadowy side of the outwardly highly respectable, money-drenched world of beautiful objects. So naturally, when his most prized piece went AWOL, he couldn’t resist the temptation to do something about it personally. Mike was a necessary evil on his path. Though his coarse (and fake) cockney accent could fool most people, Mike was actually incredibly intelligent and it was just lucky for all those in Wall Street that he was devoted to his eminently more exciting, and profitable, life of crime.
Leaning against a wall side by side looking like strangers in the waiting lounge, Mike had leaned over slightly, rummaging through his pockets.
“Blonde woman, black tote bag. Denim shorts. Walking past… now”
Clay stifled a snort. Mike had completely ignored what set her apart from every other woman in the airport- a hot pink and lime green striped top that could probably be seen in the dark from 60 feet. Mike would never miss an opportunity to be a pain in the ass and hopefully watch Clay screw up. Probably no one else had legs quite like that either he thought appreciatively before he realized with a shock that Mike was walking away. Giving up any pretence of being strangers, Clay grabbed him by the arm and swung him around easily. For all that Mike was a wide man, he had nothing on Clay’s height, shoulder width and pure muscle bulk.
“That’s it!?” Clay hissed
“That’s all you’re telling me?”
“Wanted to play detective didntcha? Well there’s who you got to talk to, like I promised yeah? What more do you want?”
“Who is she? How is she connected? What am I meant to do with her?”
Mike gave him a condescending grin, wrenched his arm free and disappeared in the crowd. Cursing, Clay powered past people in the direction he had seen the blonde heading. He knew Mike didn’t think he could do it, thought he was a tenderfoot. Well he might not have experience but he was smart, he was determined and he had all the motivation of a severely pissed off man. And he would start with the blonde.
He located her just joining the queue to buy tickets and jumped in behind her. The line seemed endless but he used the time profitably in deciding that no, no other woman in the airport or maybe even the city, had legs like that. They probably didn’t have her slim, curvy figure either. Or her hair, they definitely wouldn’t have her hair. Though he thought it was blonde at first, he got a closer look and saw it was a light brown shot through with strands of pure gold. Waking up enough to notice she was at the counter, he listened to her buy a ticket and immediately booked himself on the same flight. Sparing a moment to wonder why she was going to Peru in February, the middle of summer and the wet season, he watched her walk away with appreciation. He had known this would be fun but potentially how fun, he had never imagined.

Wiping sweat off her forehead, Sycamore wondered how it was possible to get so hot standing still. She felt like she must be swimming in nearly 100% humidity. Sparing a glance at the television hooked to the wall, the weather channel informed her that humidity was actually 88%. She was hanging out for a shower and was reasonably certain that she smelled disgusting. As she discreetly inhaled, a tantalizing scent had her spinning on her heel, searching the hotel foyer for anyone who looked familiar. She remembered the scent from when she had lined up in the Sydney airport; it was some divine male cologne, the type to make you daydream. She had only caught the barest trace of it though and she eventually decided it must have just been wishful thinking. Once more leaning upon the front desk she returned to her fantasies of a shower and clean clothes.

Later on, feeling much more human, Sycamore slipped out of the hotel. With her hair pulled back, wearing a simple loose outfit she felt ready to face the humidity and pouring rain. It was around 6:30 pm and the frustrated cloud cover of the day had given way to a steamy tropical deluge. The temperature however had dropped with the encroachment of dusk and it was just enough to be unpleasantly cold if you got wet. Sycamore felt the familiar tingle of excitement she got in every new country, every new job. She was also surprisingly optimistic about this new movie, despite the fact that the leading lady Sycamore was doubling for was the worst sort of actress- a sadistic narcissist with an eating disorder and a bikini fetish. Luckily, the job didn’t actually require much interaction between them, Sycamore simply suffered from long distance demands that the star didn’t want to do this and the star didn’t want to do that so Sycamore could double for that bit etc. etc. etc. It was enough to send her screaming to an asylum most days but she couldn’t get past the fact that she really enjoyed it. Her team was great and the job was fun. But still… she was in no hurry to join them and be subjected to immediate stress, she was allowed to enjoy herself first. Contemplating the sheets of rain drumming the roof and pouring out of overflowing gutters she deeply inhaled the cool, thick air and again, shivered delightedly. She reveled in weather of all types but especially storms. She loved the wild, unpredictability of it, the wind, the thunder, the lightning.
Just as she was about to dash through the downpour to a bar across the street she was yanked back by her elbow.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re meant to be at the Melia! I’ve been looking for you!” a rough male voice shattered Sycamore’s magic moment into sharp slivers that pricked her insides. She sighed. Internally gathering her self-control she turned to face the worst mistake she ever made.
“Lucas.” It was flat. A statement. Less than ecstatic.
“Babe. You didn’t think I’d let you run off alone did you?”
“I’m not your babe”
He leered at her and she resisted the impulse to knock out his expensive dental work. Lucas was the stunt director, 97 kilograms of muscle and attitude. He had charisma, he was divine looking and he was an asshole. Unfortunately he was also the best in the business. The stunts in her last three movies had been coordinated by him and had been all but unbearable. 2 years ago the entire force of his considerable charm had been directed at wooing Sycamore, first time addition to his team, into his bed. She had thought of him as arrogant and irritating but bearable, and she had great respect for his work.
Then, at the after party of her first movie she had gotten very drunk and woke up beside him. To this day she was unsure of what had happened but his attitude towards her since then had been insufferable. He was unreasonably sadistic, demanding she perform stunts that were all but impossible, although she had managed fine so far which enraged him. However, he never touched her anymore and had not told anybody about what had happened. Sycamore took this as a good sign, one that meant things had not gone well for him, but she was continually frustrated at her complete ignorance of what events had transpired that night. She was wary of him though, as every now and then she caught a glance from him that was a mixture of hatred and continuing lust and he was not an insignificant enemy. At the moment however, he was simply a barrier to her enjoying herself.
“There’s no need for me to be there tonight, I’ll be there tomorrow morning and everything will be fine.”
The tone Sycamore used was the same she would have used on a small child who didn’t understand his homework. Strong and talented Lucas may be but… a few too many shots to the head perhaps could explain certain other deficiencies.
“No. It’s gonna be full on tomorrow, we have to get everything done in the mornings because it rains in this shithole from midday onwards. You’re gonna love what I’ve got planned.”
The leer was back again and it boded ill for Sycamore’s health. That smile could only mean that he had thought of some new cruel and unusual method of torture that would look great on film. Sycamore simultaneously hated the enjoyment Lucas got from it and loved the challenges he presented her with… there was also the satisfaction from his rage every time she successfully performed stunts he was certain would be too difficult for her. However, she was definitely thinking that she probably should get all the rest she could instead of sampling the local drinking culture tonight.
“Right then, thanks for the warning. I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early then shall I?” Giving him her jauntiest, unworried grin she began to walk away but he grabbed her elbow once again, a little tighter this time.
“Sycamore.”
She turned back, prised his fingers off her arm, threw him a solid glare and turned away again.
“It’s not from me, it’s the boss, he wants you there tonight. At the Melia.”
Sycamore swore under her breath.
“Well in that case, why didn’t you say so. Off you go. I won’t get lost.”
“Maybe I should wait”
“Maybe you should go”
Lucas, recognizing the dangerous note in her tone and probably deciding that he had a whole movie to piss her off, wisely backed off.
“Right then, I’ll see you back at the hotel. You’ve got the room next to mine.” With a leer and a suggestively raised eyebrow, Lucas walked away.

Sycamore watched him slide into a cab that had been waiting for him and drive away. Letting go of her carefully maintained self-control she let fly a string of curses and a powerfully aggressive sideways kick into a road sign. She walked back into the hotel with her face as stormy as the weather, leaving a shocked passerby on the street examining the dent in the solid metal sign-post.

Seeing her coming back to the hotel Clay quickly stepped away from the shuttered windows through which he had been observing her. This was getting more and more interesting.