Word Count: 6,032
Summary of Events:
Hilton was taking advantage of the hotel restaurant to dine in and saw Mackenzie come in; he couldn't resist switching tables to go talk with her because of her beauty and learned why she was in London. Mackenzie didn't mind getting the opportunity to talk about things with someone who seemed to take her seriously, but got a little unsettled by Hilton's gaze as their dinner went on. Hilton escorted her to her hotel room, but got thwarted when he tried to surreptitiously sneak inside. He dreamt of her that night — being rudely interrupted by his agent calling and so reluctantly went off to the ad shoot he was in London for, where he told the director that he wanted to the entire shoot at fifty five miles an hour . . .
Excerpt of the Day:
""One take," Hilton said flatly.
"One take!?" the director cried. "You expect us to get this done in one take!?"
"Yes," Hilton replied.
"At fifty five!?" the director exclaimed.
"Yes," Hilton replied.
"What's with the bloody hurry?" the director asked.
"I need to be out of here at ten," Hilton replied.
"It's only half eight! We can't get all the shots we need in an hour and a half!" the director protested.
"That's all you have. I won't be late for my flight," Hilton replied.
"Flight? What flight? Your agent said nothing about this!" the director exclaimed.
"He doesn't know about it," Hilton replied. "Are your cameras ready? Or are you going to spend your precious minutes protesting how this cannot possibly be done?"
The director mouthed, but emitted no sound; finally he turned and started shouting to the cameramen and assistant directors and that menagerie of other personnel involved in filming the brief footage to advertise the car.
Hilton plucked the map from the director's hand and strode over to the low, sleek, charcoal grey sports car. Opening the door, he slid inside, set the map beside him, and slid his gloves on.
Fastening the belt, he relaxed in the seat and took hold of the key. He turned it enough for the console lights to come on. He pressed the radio and tuned into the frequency the director was using to cue. He turned the volume down when the director's shouting came blaring through the speakers.
"Cameras ready?" the director cried.
"Ready," the cameramen replied in disunity.
"Rolling!" the director cried.
"Rolling," came the reply, no more unified than the prior.
"Action!" the director cried.
Hilton turned they key fully and the car roared to life. He counted down in his head, settling his left hand on the gear lever, starting over the sleek bonnet at the road ahead of him.
The instant he hit one he pulled the lever down to drive and put his foot to the floor, causing the speed and RPM needles to surge across their dials. He reached fifty five in seconds and held his speed, manoeuvring around the course with smooth motion.
He stared dead ahead, watching camera after camera flash by out his peripheral vision, some lenses moving with his passing, some remaining exactly as they were before and after.
An audible gasp came from the cameraman in the backseat as Hilton whipped a tight turn at the high speed as they got near to the bridge on which the shoot would end. Hilton palmed the wheel around another corner and into the curve leading up to the bridge.
He tore past the final camera sitting in the middle of the other lane and lightened his pressure on the accelerator, sliding his hand over to the handbrake as he neared the end of the bridge where pylons and barriers kept traffic off for the sake of the shoot.
The cameraman's breathing accelerated the closer they got to the barrier. Hilton smiled and snapped the handbrake back, whipping the hind end of the car around and leaving them facing the camera at a complete stop."
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