After the first day’s shooting in the mountains, Sunday was a wreck, the heat was impossible. She had been working hard, surrounded by a mostly Mexican crew, and three Americans – the director, Woody, the cameraman, Mike, and the continuity girl, Marisa. Woody and Marisa were having an affair. He was a pleasant, thirtyish man whom Steve Magnum had picked personally. He had not directed a movie before, only television. Marisa was twenty-four and pretty. Sunday liked them both. As a director Woody was quiet, considerate and extremely encouraging. There was a great difference between him and Abe Stein. Abe represented the old-style Hollywood. Woody the new. Upon arrival, she had received a huge basket of flowers from Steve, with a note saying ‘Welcome’. Apart from that, no word from him at all. ‘You had your chance and blew it,’ Carey said. ‘He’s probably shacked up in that mansion of his with a beautiful Mexican virgin.’ ‘I hope he is,’ Sunday replied.
