by Dana Fredsti
The adrenaline rush left as abruptly as it had hit, and I sunk back against the couch cushions. “Oh, thank God. I just can’t afford the ticket right now.”
“I totally feel your pain,” Eden said. “I swear, I should build street cleaning tickets into my budget, you know?”
Finishing my coffee, I excused myself, grabbed my bag, and went into the bathroom to get cleaned up so I didn’t overstay my welcome. I brushed my teeth and washed my face, digging in my bag for the deodorant I always carried. I found it, along with my iPhone, and pulled them both out.
Oh, crap crap crappity crap.
Not the deodorant. The deodorant was fine.
The phone, on the other hand?
A bunch of missed calls and voicemail notifications from Sean and Seth, one after another, like a tsunami of stress heading my way. And those were only the ones that fit on the screen.
I used the touch ID and went into the list of missed calls and voicemails. Five from Sean, three from Seth. Then I checked the texts and found a series of increasingly worried messages from Sean, plus a bunch of angry ones from Seth.
The gist of them all?
Where was I?
Why hadn’t I called?
Where the hell was I?
What the fuck? I knew I’d sent a text last night. I mean, yeah, I’d gotten kind of tipsy, but I took Sean’s feelings pretty seriously, and would never have wanted him to spend the night worrying about me. Although seriously, I didn’t remember checking in with him this much back when I’d had my own place.
Then I looked at the bottom of the thread from Sean. There was my text.
Sean, staying at a friend’s place tonight.
See you in the morning!
Only problem? I’d never hit “send.”
I started to listen to one of the messages from Sean and then thought better of it. I deleted them along with the voicemails and texts from Seth, which I didn’t need to hear or read, and honestly, hadn’t wanted in the first place. He’d never been good at letting Sean and me manage our own relationship.
I went ahead and typed up a quick apology text to Sean and then sent it along with the one that hadn’t gone through last night. Then I punched in his number and braced myself for a big fat helping of guilt trip for breakfast.
At least I had good coffee to wash it down.
* * *
I got home an hour and a half later, taking my time on the drive home. Every now and again my mind played over what Eden had said about Seth. Each time my brain went down that path, though, part of me instantly ran in the opposite direction. Way too Jaime and Circe Lannister for my taste, even if we weren’t related by blood.
A small part of me, a very small part, wondered if there wasn’t at least a drop of truth to it. Seth and I used to get along, even have fun together. Now barely veiled hostility was the norm, and I couldn’t pinpoint when it had started.
No sooner had I pulled up into the carport and turned the engine off when the driver’s side door was flung open. I looked up to see Seth glaring at me, looking all pissed off and stormily handsome, like the cover model for a gothic novel.
“Hey, there,” I said cheerily. “Didn’t realize you were offering valet service now.” I got out of the car, pushing past him and pulling my stuff from the trunk. Then I went inside, calling Sean’s name as I walked into the front hallway.
“He’s not here.” Seth slammed the front door shut behind him. The house suddenly felt very full of his presence.
“Where is he?”
“Out.”
I rolled my eyes. “Real mature, Seth.” Tossing my bag on the couch, I went into the kitchen. There would need to be more coffee if I was going to deal with my asshole cousin. So I grabbed a mug and got the Nespresso machine doing its thing, pulling out a can of whipped cream from the fridge. Coffee mit schlag would do quite nicely.
Seth followed me in, spoiling for a fight which I had no intention of giving him. I’d used all my extra energy up yesterday with Axel.
“You really are something.” Seth looked at me with the same kind of disgust most people reserve for when they find used Band Aids in their food or dog vomit under their pillow. “Couldn’t be bothered to call, huh?”
“I texted, okay?” I glared at him as I swirled whipped cream into my coffee mug. “Or at least I typed a text and thought I sent it. Look, it was an honest mistake. I talked to Sean this morning. He’s already forgiven me. So why the hell can’t you just drop it?”
“Do you have any idea how worried he was?” Seth stomped across the kitchen floor and threw the fridge door open, grabbing a beer before slamming the door shut. “Do you even care? Or were you too busy screwing your new friend to think about that?”
Oh, for Christ’s sake.
“Not that it’s any business of yours,” I said carefully, trying very hard to keep my temper in check, “but I spent the night with a girlfriend. An actress from the film. She offered me a place to crash because we went for drinks after wrap last night, and I overdid it.”
“Of course you did,” he said unfairly, clutching his beer. I felt my temper fraying, which pissed me off even more because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me lose it.
“So you’d rather I’d driven home drunk?” I countered. “Would you prefer that to the thought of me screwing some guy?” I shook my head in disgust. “Jesus Christ, Seth. Your priorities are totally fucked up.”
“And yours aren’t?”
I added more whipped cream to my mug, slowly and deliberately.
“Here’s the thing, Seth. I don’t remember what I was like before the accident, but I’d like to think I wouldn’t deliberately do something to make Sean lose a night of sleep over me.”
“You have no fucking idea what you’ve put him—put us— through over the years.”
“You’re right, I don’t.” I slammed the whipped cream can down on the table. “But I’m doing my best here, and I’m sick and tired of you never giving me a break. You’ve given me nothing but shit for taking this job.”
“You shouldn’t have—”
“Let me finish!”
He shut up. I wanted to declare a national holiday.
I took a deep breath before continuing.
“The only reason I took the job, aside from helping Randy out, is so I could start making money so I can get the hell out of here so I don’t have to deal with you anymore. And, hey, if that happens, you won’t have to deal with me either, unless we work on the same job. That doesn’t look too likely, so you should be pretty much free and clear.”
Tears burned behind my eyelids. I hated myself for it. The last thing I wanted was for Seth to see any weakness on my part, because I knew from past experience he’d go in for the kill.
I grabbed the whipped cream and put it back in the fridge without looking. In my haste to get it done and get the hell out of the kitchen, I knocked over a jar of salsa, which tumbled out of the fridge toward the floor. I grabbed for it, but Seth was quicker. He caught it before it smashed on the tiles.
I started to straighten up, but Seth grabbed my wrist with his other hand, pulling my arm up so he could look at it in the light. All of the bruises I’d gotten from my encounters with Axel stood out all ugly and greenish yellow.
“What happened?” Seth’s tone didn’t exactly soften, but the edge of anger was gone.
I shrugged. “Did a fight yesterday. The guy had something to prove.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“Just bruises,” I said, trying not to show how glad I was that he’d asked. “Nothing that won’t fade in a few days.”
“Why didn’t Randy stop it?”
“I wouldn’t let him. I could handle it.”
Seth laughed, a sound devoid of humor.
“Of course you could.” It wasn’t a compliment.
I sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. “Look. You’re not going to get the same type of shit I do on set. Or any other woman, for tha
t matter. You don’t have anything to prove, and you’re not a target for harassment. I did what I thought was best for the job, and Randy backed me up. He’s solid.”
“Good. Because if Randy had let something happen to one of his people on the job, we don’t want him in the KSC.”
I gave a bitter little laugh. “Gee, for a second I thought you might actually care. I should’ve known better.”
“Don’t be childish.”
“Pot to kettle, anyone?”
He ignored that.
“What’s the guy’s name? The one who hurt you?”
“Axel…” I paused, realizing I didn’t know Axel’s last name. “Big Germanic guy. Turns out he’s half Priaptic demon, which is a new one on me.”
Seth slapped a hand to his forehead and sat down across from me. “They cast a fucking Priaptic demon?”
“Half-breed,” I corrected. “I guess that’s not a new one for you, and yeah, they did. According to Eden, the director didn’t have a clue. He’s not the brightest bulb. I don’t think anyone knows except the two of us.”
“Eden’s this friend you had drinks with?”
I nodded cautiously. “She’s one of the actresses on the film.”
“So the director doesn’t know that Randy’s—”
“A shifter? Doubtful.” I shot Seth a sideways glance. “I didn’t know either until he got pissed off at Axel, and his eyes got all wolfy for a minute.”
He gave a small smile. “You used to be better at spotting these things.”
“I used to be better at high falls, too.”
“True.”
I drank some of my espresso, enjoying the contrast between the bitter brew and the sweet whipped cream while Seth sucked down half of his beer, a PBR. We sat in almost companionable silence, drinking our respective beverages. It felt like an armed truce. Fragile and precious at the same time.
Seth gestured toward my now empty mug with his equally empty beer bottle.
“You want another one?”
“Nah, but if we have any beer that isn’t fucking close to water, I’d take that.”
“What?’
“You know. ‘Why is PBR like sex in a canoe? Because it’s fucking—’”
“‘—close to water,’” Seth finished.
We shared a rare smile between us, knowing Sean would have totally frowned on the language. We’d done the same thing in our teens. It had been a hell of a long time since we’d been on the same side of a joke.
“I’ll see what we’ve got,” he said. “Gotta say, though, with Drift doing most of the beer runs the last few weeks, it’s been lean pickings.”
“See? I am good for something.”
Seth shot me a look before rummaging around in the fridge. He pulled out a couple of Stone Delicious IPAs, tossing me one just as the back door opened and Sean walked in.
He paused warily in the doorway, looking at the two of us with our beers as if he were a member of a bomb squad unsure if he needed to cut the red or the blue wire.
“Hey there,” I said, standing so I could greet him. I’d already done a major mea culpa over the phone, and Sean had said we were good. Still, a hug seemed like a good thing about now.
“Hey yourself, hon.” Sean returned my hug warmly, managing to squeeze all the things that already hurt. I couldn’t help the hiss of indrawn breath as his arms pressed into my bruises.
Sean set me back immediately, hands on my shoulders and stared at me with concern.
“You okay?”
“I’m good,” I said as Seth growled, “Priaptic demon got frisky with her.”
“Half-demon,” I corrected, giving him a glare. I really hadn’t wanted to go into detail, at least not quite so soon.
Oh, well.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When I finished telling Sean about the drama with Axel, I hoped that would be the end of it. However, he wasn’t content to leave it at that.
“So he transformed when you were filming the fight and the director didn’t freak?”
“Well, no, he just tried to beat the crap out of me when we were filming the fight,” I replied. “Rock is a sexist jerk, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what Axel is.”
“Then how did you know he was a Priaptic demon?”
“He got all red, veiny, and… er… obvious about it later,” I said reluctantly. “It got kind of ugly and I—”
I stopped. What had I done?
“I guess I had some sort of mega adrenaline rush, ’cause I threw him off and kicked him in the nuts hard enough to knock him out.”
“That must have been some kick,” Seth said, leaning against the fridge and looking like he belonged in a Hunky Stuntmen calendar. I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not.
“He pissed me off,” I muttered.
“He must have.” Sean sat down next to me, reached out, and covered one of my hands—the one without the beer in it—with his. “What happened after that?”
I shrugged. “Adrenaline rush went bye-bye and I sat down for a few minutes until I felt normal again.” I didn’t see the point in telling him about my weird episode in Venice Beach.
Seth and Sean exchanged one of their patented father-and-son looks, something they’d perfected over the years. I swear they passed information back and forth through osmosis. They must’ve come to some conclusion, though. Sean nodded, Seth sat down next to him, and they both looked at me.
“What?” I asked. “You guys are making me nervous.”
“Hon, there’s something—”
My phone vibrated in my jeans pocket and the Flash Gordon theme blared from my backside.
“Hang on,” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket. Neither of them would be offended if I checked to see who was calling. In our business, it could mean a gig.
I recognized the number.
“It’s Randy,” I said. “Might be about tomorrow’s schedule. I should take it.”
Sean made a “go ahead” gesture. Seth drank more beer, and I took that as an okay on his part, as well. Pushing away from the table, I hit “answer.”
“Hey, Randy.” I stepped over by the kitchen door, my back to the table.
“Hey, Lee! I didn’t wake you up, did I?”
“Nope! Been up for a while and already had three cups of coffee. You’re safe.”
“How’re you feeling?”
I smiled, touched that he’d thought to check up on me.
“A little stiff and a couple of bruises, but not bad. I’ll be ready to go tomorrow, no worries.”
“Hell, I’m not worried about that,” he said with a laugh. “Smartest thing I did was hire you.”
Aww… Randy was earning brownie points all over the place.
“Everything set for tomorrow’s car chase?” I asked. “And do I really get to drive a Cayman?”
Seth’s eyebrows shot up, and he mouthed, “Lucky bitch.”
Randy chuckled. “Yup! One of Rock’s pals is into sports cars. Dude must have money coming out of his ass, if he doesn’t mind loaning us the Cayman for a shoot. Rock figures Vixenia would have something extra nice.”
“So what do you get to drive?”
“Vixenia’s other car, which just happens to be a NSX.”
“Drift is gonna be jealous,” I said, impressed. “Too bad we didn’t have that kind of budget for the rest of the film.”
“No kidding,” Randy agreed. “But, hey, I figure we should get something out of this, aside from bruises and a shitty paycheck.”
There was a pause. I decided to give Randy a nudge.
“So, anything else before I go?”
“Oh, yeah! This may be good news for you, too, which is really why I called.” He paused, probably for effect, then said, “So I got a call from my agent this morning. I signed with her right before getting the job on Steel Legions, and she wanted to know if I knew any female stunt players looking for representation. I didn’t know if you already have an agent, but you were the first person I tho
ught of. She seemed really interested.”
“That’s great! Who’s your agent?”
“Faustina Corbin,” Randy said with a total fail at nonchalance. Not that I could blame him.
Faustina Corbin was the top agent for supernaturals in the industry, one of the very few who handled paranormal clients, which can run the gamut of magical, mystical, ghostly, and otherworldly beings. She’d been after Sean and Seth to sign with her for, like, forever, but the Katz boys preferred to fly solo even if some of their stunt crew took on agency representation.
Faustina also had the reputation among those in the know for only representing supernatural talent. Which made me reluctantly conclude that this had to be a mistake.
“Uh, Randy, you know I’m not a supe, right?”
“Sure!” He sounded surprised that I’d even ask.
“Okay. But even more importantly, does Faustina know I’m human?”
Both Sean and Seth shifted in their chairs at my mention of the agent’s name.
“Well, she didn’t specifically ask for supes, just female stunt players. I think it’s fine as long as you know about supes, and don’t mind working with them, y’know?”
“Huh.”
That one syllable did not do justice to the sudden burst of excitement hammering in my chest.
“Anyway,” he continued, “she asked me to ask you to give her a call when you had the chance. She takes calls on weekends, so I thought I’d let you know a-s-a-p, in case you were interested.”
“Thanks, Randy. That’s really nice of you.”
“Aww, you deserve it, Lee. Lemme give you her number.”
“Hang on a sec.” I grabbed a pen and paper. “Okay, shoot.” He rattled off a number in the 310 area code and I scribbled it down.
“Well, thanks,” I said again. “Hey, Sean needs to talk to me so I’d better run. See you tomorrow, okay?” I hung up and stared at the number I’d written down.
Huh.
“What’s up?” Sean’s tone sounded deliberately nonchalant, as if he and Seth hadn’t been listening to every word on my end of the conversation, and probably most of Randy’s too. They had really good hearing, and Randy wasn’t soft-spoken.
“Faustina Corbin’s evidently looking for female stunt players,” I replied with equal nonchalance. It was probably just as genuine. “Randy recommended me. I thought she only represented supernaturals, though.”