For those that wanted to know more about Misha before he met Froo, here is his story and how he came to be in England which is where he met her and fell in love, and his time with Suzanne the woman in his past.
His passion for Suzanne becomes an obsession, as she plunges down into a self destructive whirlpool, so for those that believe that life's many experiences make up a rich and interesting tapestry....here is Misha's story.
To read about Misha and Froo please read the companion story Taking the Risk Chapter's 1-21 under Novels and Novella's.
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Henry stood explaining to Misha how the lighting was best placed to eliminate any strong shadows as they filmed in the open plan office area of Ingleside Holdings, the company that they were making the Corporate Video for. Working for his Uncle Dmitri and learning the ropes from the bottom up, Misha loved the production side of making the video's and an eager learner he was absorbing up any help and advice that his colleagues were giving him, building on what he had learnt with his degree.
"Direct light is too harsh and makes the face a little scary looking, so avoid, this is not a horror flick it's a business video and the people want to look their best. Avoid any light from behind, window or such like, it puts the person in silhouette, and throws shadows, and shadows have distinct edges. Go for diffused light, it softens and flatters the face." Passing a bulb to Misha, "See how the bulb is coated at the end, the light hits it and reflects back out diffused. Questions to ask yourself when setting up, where is the light supposed to be coming from, and what are we trying to focus the eyes on?"
Nodding Misha started to help set up the lighting, the physical work helping him to forget Suzanne and the scene last night in the club. Unsure of whether she wanted to see him again he decided to play it cool and not chase. He had his pride, even if a part of him wanted so much to go over tonight to the rehearsal hall, grab her and shake her. She was making him feel emotions he had never felt before, and he was not sure if he liked not being totally in control of the situation. So when he woke up this morning, his head thumping from too much drink, he had stood under the shower, the water pouring down on his face, and came to the decision to let her do some chasing if she wanted him. If she didn't then he would chalk this up to one of his life's experiences.
During the day he watched and learnt. The totally professional men in the team liked the friendly and eager young man. Naturally gregarious and laid back he got on easily with the small crew of four, and at the end of the day, once the van was loaded up with the equipment Henry asked him if he wanted to come along for a couple of beers with the others.
"Yeah, that sounds good."
"We'll unload the van at the office, and then go up the block to the Irish Pub. Cameron is sweet on the girl behind the bar and is getting the courage up to ask her out."
Later the five men sat, beers on the table in front of them, Cameron staring at the dark haired girl as she served other workers at the end of the day, his deep brown eyes behind his glasses following her every move.
"Got it bad Cam? Go and ask her. What have you got to lose?"
"My dreams if she says no."
"You can't live on dreams boy, go and ask her."
"Leave it Blane, I will when I'm ready."
Misha turned his head and looked across at the woman, a round face with apple cheeks, her thick hair falling out of where it was held bunched up on the top of her head, her face unblemished without makeup she looked fresh and sweet, until you noticed the skull and crossbones tattooed on her right shoulder, revealed by the sleeveless top she wore and the gold hoops piercing her lip and eyebrow. Looking back at Cameron, his slight frame and his preppy look he couldn't picture them together, but then who was he to judge.
"Go for it Cam, she looks like a real sweetie."
"I said leave it. I'll ask her when I'm ready."
The conversation change to sport and the latest game played last weekend, and a good natured discussion on the finer points of the heritage of the player who fumbled a pass, and then Misha stood up asking who wanted what for the next round. Walking over to the bar he stood waiting to be served by the tattoo wearing focus of Cameron's dreams.
"Yes my love,' The girl looked up at him with an interest in her eyes, "what's your poison?" her soft Irish lilt was easy on the ear, and he estimated she stood no more that about five feet and probably weighed about ninety pounds soaking wet.
"Five Bud's," he watched her smile at him, "You're Irish?"
"How did you guess? The accent gave it away huh? Just outside Dublin, small village down on the coast." She pulled up the bottles, putting them on the bar. "You're American?"
Laughing Misha told her "How did you guess? Did the accent give it away? From California, a suburb just outside of Los Angles."
"Never been, but would like to see it." Taking the money he had passed over to her, she turned to the till and got his change.
"What's your name?"
