I resolutely ignore the fact that Chris Hemsworth has starred in several of my fantasies in the past, unattainable actor or not.
Jason is a colleague. He will only ever be a colleague. I am not thinking of him that way.
I’m just tired. It’s been a long day. Next time I watch this video, I’ll probably wonder how I ever imagined a resemblance, no matter how superficial, between the actor and Jason.
***
By the time I get to work early the next morning, I’ve forgotten the incident that I can’t remember—I really have—and am raring to get stuck back into the challenge of selecting JVTC’s debut show. Two of the ones on our short list were my suggestions, and there’s one in particular I think would align well with my goals. Am I still bummed that we’re not going with Walk of Life? Yes, absolutely. It’s a brilliant show and would have set the right note for the company from the get-go. But Jason and Trav have been working in this industry for a long time, and I’d be an idiot not to concede to their expertise. It would be worse to put on a mediocre version of a great show than a brilliant version of a good one.
That doesn’t stop the disappointment, of course, but I’m nothing if not practical, so I push it aside and focus. I’ve copiously researched two of the shows and am moving on to the third when someone clears their throat from the doorway of my office.
It’s Trav, and he has an amused expression on his face that likely means he’s been standing there for a while and I never noticed.
“Hey,” I say, glancing at the time on my laptop. Shit, it’s nearly nine thirty. I’ve been at this for over two hours. No wonder my back’s starting to feel achy.
“Good morning. Come and have coffee with us—you could probably use a break.”
Now that he mentions it, I would commit several felonies for a coffee. I stand and stretch, make sure to hit Save on my notes, and follow him out into the common space. Jason is unloading a tray of takeout coffee cups on the desk that will belong to one of our assistants. There’s also a paper bag from the bakery here in the Village, and my stomach growls on cue. Breakfast was hours ago.
“Good morning,” Jason says with a cheerful smile, and I smile back, not picturing him on his knees, naked. “You’ve been hard at work. What time did you get in?”
“A little after seven.” I’m a morning person, and since I’m up anyway, if I don’t have anything productive to do at home, I come in to work.
Jason’s eyebrows shoot up. “Then you’ll definitely need this.” He extends a cup to me. “Trav told me how you liked it.”
I ignore the double entendre he didn’t know he was making and widen my smile to include Trav as I say, “Thank you. Yeah, it’s definitely coffee time. And I wouldn’t say no to some of whatever’s in the bag.” I nod toward it. Normal. I’m being a normal coworker.
“You don’t even know what it is,” Jason protests, but there’s a sparkle in his eyes. We seem to be getting along a lot better this morning, despite the dirty thoughts I’m trying to hide. Maybe because I’m not being defensive? Sure, he said dickhole things, but we need to work together going forward, so I need to let that go. I want this company to succeed, and it won’t if he and I are deliberately antagonizing each other.
Or if I’m constantly picturing him in place of a certain porn actor.
“Everything from there is amazing,” I inform him. “Are you going to share, or do I need to take steps?”
He laughs out loud, hearty and full, and hell, that little pang of superficial attraction stands up and waves for my attention. He has a great laugh.
Handing over the bag, he tells me, “Take what you want. There’s enough for all of us.”
We’re soon settled for our break, munching companionably. “What are your plans for the morning?” I ask them, and Trav holds up a finger, indicating I should wait while he chews and swallows. Jason snorts.
“Trav’s been showing me how to use the app,” he says. “We have a list of questions for you when you have time. And I’m going to go through the applications HR sent.”
Trav finally swallows and nods. “Seriously, Dim, that app could be used to achieve total world domination, and we’ve only got access to the features we need. Who came up with that thing?”
I grin. “We have some scary smart tech guys working at JU. There was some talk a few years—maybe five or six?—back about bringing in a company that could develop an app to incorporate all the functions of the intranet for easier use on tablet and smartphone. Two of the guys in tech had already been thinking about it, they pitched their ideas, and the decision was made to let them run with it, since they already knew what was needed. So it was all developed in-house, and once we rolled it out, head office was so impressed they transferred those guys to California to work for the parent company.”
“That’s Joy Incorporated?” Jason confirms, and I nod.
“Last I heard, they’ve rolled out an app specific to the needs of the animation design studio.”
“Impressive.”
It really is, but I bite back my enthusiastic monologue on the subject, because it gets a little technical and most people’s eyes glaze over. I’ll let him get used to our app first. Instead, I change the subject.
“I need to go through the HR applications today as well, but I want to finish the costings first. I should be done by lunchtime. Can we set some time this afternoon to go over them?”
“Sounds good.” Jason looks at Trav. “Does two work for both of you?”
Trav agrees, and I pull out my tablet and set up the meeting. Jason looks vaguely surprised when his tablet and phone chime.
“That could get annoying fast,” he mutters. “Why didn’t yours ding?” He shoots Trav an accusing look.
“We’ll change the settings so it only dings for stuff flagged as urgent,” Trav promises. “Otherwise it will be going off all day.” He takes a final gulp of coffee. “Okay, I’m going to look up some of the past choreography for the shows on the short list. Are any of them so ridiculously out of our budget that I shouldn’t bother?”
I shake my head. “Not so far, sorry.”
He winks and wanders into the conference room. When I was setting up office space, he told me not to bother with one for him, since most of his work will be in the theater. The conference room works fine for the occasional times he needs a desk.
I finish my coffee and Danish and thank Jason again. Time to get some work done.
***
“So we’re agreed?” Jason sits back in his chair and looks around the table.
“Agreed,” I say, feeling smug and victorious, even though there’s no winner or loser here. I still feel like I won.
“Agreed.” Trav grins widely. “This is going to be fun.”
It actually didn’t take us as long as I’d feared it would to go through the information and make a decision. Interestingly, it seemed like Jason’s preference was the same as mine, and since that show was well within our budgetary limits—even if we do some of the more creative things Trav and Jason were casually brainstorming yesterday—it was an easy decision.
So the debut season of JVTC will be Out of Line. It’s a lighter show, no heavy drama, but does have a few more intense scenes that give it depth. It had a very successful first season in the West End, then on Broadway, but didn’t get as much attention as some of the flashier shows, so it hasn’t been as widely traveled. And I’m so excited to sink my teeth into it.
“Right,” Jason says, and he’s grinning. “I’ll leave it to you to arrange licensing, Dimi. Now that we know what we’re doing, I have thoughts about the choreography. Do we need to use the in-house choreographers, or can I bring someone in?”
I make a face. “You can bring someone in, but long-term we’ll probably want to develop talent in-house. It’s cheaper and better for company morale.”
He stares at the t
able for a long moment, clearly thinking. Trav and I exchange glances. We actually had a really detailed discussion about this a couple months ago, when I was negotiating the budget. We’d both prefer to keep the choreography in-house, but ultimately allowed for the hire of a contractor because our choreographers are used to dealing with thirty-minute shows aimed at children, and we wanted to make sure we had the money to get help if it turned out we needed it.
“How about this,” Jason says finally. “I’d like to talk to the choreography team, see what ideas they have. Maybe set them a scene they can use as a kind of audition. Based on that, we can decide whether it would be smarter to bring someone in this season and have the team shadow that person in prep for next season. Does the team even have the bandwidth to be taking on a project like this?”
That sounds fair. In fact, it’s a lot more than I expected from him. “Not really,” I admit. “In the same way that the company is increasing the pool of performers, the plan would be to add to the choreography team if their workload was going to increase.”
“Pete, the head of the team, told me he’s put some feelers out but hasn’t actually advertised anything yet,” Trav adds. “He didn’t want to assume.”
Jason nods. “Can we set up a meeting with him? Let’s get this moving. If they can handle this, they’ll need to get started as soon as possible.”
I pull out my phone and make the call. Pete is happy to hear from me and agrees to come and meet with us first thing in the morning. He offers to come right away, but Jason and I both need to sort out those applications from HR or we’ll be run off our feet when things start up in earnest. Assistants are a must-have.
“Done, then.” I lean back in my chair and allow myself to grin. “I’ll put in the licensing application this afternoon. From what I could see in my research, it should be quick.” And if there look to be any delays, JU has a brilliant legal department I can utilize to push things through.
“Sounds good. If you run into any issues, let me know, and I’ll lean on some of my contacts.”
I knew we’d hired him for a reason.
“So,” he says, and something about the way his tone is so studiously casual catches my interest, “how was your date last night?”
Date?
What date?
Shit, did I have a date I forgot about?
Nah. I would never plan a date for a Monday night.
A moment of sheer, gut-wrenching panic seizes me—does he know about my self-care time? Is that what he means?
I will myself to be calm. There’s no way he can know. And even if he did, so what? I’m sure he’s probably jerked off a time or two in his life.
But….
“I didn’t have a date last night,” I say calmly. He raises his eyebrows.
“Oh. Sorry. You said you had plans, and I guess I just assumed.”
See? Just a misunderstanding. I chuckle.
“Monday night dinner at my parents’ place. Attendance is mandatory, or face the wrath of Mom.”
Trav laughs. “Your mom’s awesome, but she also kinda scares me.”
“How so?” Jason looks intrigued.
“She’s Dimi, but with thirty-some years’ worth more self-assurance and life experience.”
Say what?
“What.” My tone is so flat it doesn’t even sound like a question. I mean, don’t get me wrong, my mom is awesome and it would not suck to be like her… but I never thought I was. Not really.
“Oh, come on, Dimi. Think about it. You’re both organized, driven, and competent in a scary way. You can both walk into any chaotic situation and get things on track and people obeying orders within minutes—and they’d be grateful to you.”
I think about it.
He’s kind of right.
No. He’s right. No “kind of” about it.
I can’t believe I’ve been blind to this all these years.
“I guess I should be nicer to my mother,” I say finally. “Seeing as how I’m going to be her one day.”
Jason chuckles. “I’ve got to meet your mom. The curiosity is going to kill me.”
I shrug. “She’ll turn up when the show premieres. She and Dad always come to my shows.” I force myself not to wince. I didn’t mean to refer to that night, I swear. Things are going well between us now, and the last thing I want is to derail that with any reminders of our previous—well, my previous—animosity. On the flip side, the community theater is a huge part of my life, has been for years, and it’s going to come up. So maybe it’s best to start making it an ordinary part of the conversation.
Jason doesn’t react badly, thankfully, just smiles and says, “I’ll look forward to meeting her, then.”
Working with him may turn out to be a great thing, after all. As long as I stay focused.
Chapter Six
Jason
This move was a good idea. I’ll admit now that I was more unsure of it than I let on when I first arrived in Joyville, but three weeks in, I’m confident that I made the right decision. I love New York and adored working the Broadway scene all these years, but I needed a change of pace after I broke up with the ex-who-shall-not-be-named. The last few years have been one upheaval after another—my parents passing on barely six months apart, my brother and sister squabbling like selfish brats over the estate and dragging me into it, the breakup and having to leave my home of fifteen years—getting away from all of it, working in a new environment with new people, was exactly the right thing to do.
These last weeks have been hectic. We want to start performances in March, which means we need to move fast, especially with the holidays causing their usual disruption to schedules. Dimi got the rights we need within record time, and after careful consideration and a lot of discussion, we decided to use the in-house choreography team. It’s a risk, but Pete, who heads the team, has a lot of experience, some of it in a big theater company in Atlanta, even if it was a long time ago. I’m willing to take a chance on him.
Dimi and I hired our assistants, but mine quit after three days when she discovered during the course of casual conversation that I’m gay. It was a shock to all of us—JU has a solid nondiscrimination policy, and the parent company has been very open about its support of diverse minority groups. The worst part was that she was so earnest and “polite” about it. “I’m sorry, Jason, I just can’t work for a homosexual. It’s not personal.”
Um… how is it not personal? Did she think it would be less of an attack on who I am because she didn’t use slurs? That I would be less angry? I guess being a big deal on Broadway for so long has insulated me to a certain degree—it’s been more years than I can count since the last time I personally experienced homophobia. My immediate circle is liberal, and people I came into contact with for work were all eager to impress me. So I was literally speechless with shock when she said that and then followed it up by asking for a reference. For three days’ work.
Luckily for me, Dimi overheard and swooped in to save the day. He reminded her of a whole heap of JU policies that had been in the employment contract she signed and ushered her out the door within seconds. Then he got on the phone to HR and tore them a new one. Turns out the screening process is supposed to include a question on whether the applicant can work in a diverse workplace without discriminating, but somehow it got missed this time around.
So I’m currently without an assistant. Most of that is because I’m a bit apprehensive now about hiring someone new. Dimi’s been pushing me to get on with it, and he’s right. I’ll get it done after the holidays.
And speaking of holidays, that’s what we’re doing right now. Literally. Speaking of holidays. Dimi just asked Trav about his and Derek’s plans to spend the holidays in New York with family.
“…so we’re both kind of dreading it, but in an excited way.” Trav finishes explaining the sleeping arrangemen
ts at his parents’ place. I have to admit, I tuned a lot of it out, but only because he and I were talking about it last week.
Dimi scrunches up his face in a way that makes his already youthful face look even younger. “I get it,” he commiserates. “When I didn’t live in town, I dreaded coming home for the holidays. Most of my sibs and their significant others and their kids all converged—still do—on my parents’ place, and there was barely enough room for us all growing up. There’s nowhere to go if you need a minute to yourself—not even the bathroom, because one year my youngest brother thought it would be a good idea to claim the tub as his bed for the week.”
I laugh. How can I not? That shit’s funny.
Dimi grins. “He’s always been the simpleton in the family,” he confides. “His logic was that it would be a bed to himself, no sharing required.”
“That’s… well, I can’t beat that,” Trav says, chuckling. “Remind me, how many of you are there?”
“Eight.” Dimi sighs dramatically, and although I’ve gotten to know him pretty well over the last few weeks, this almost whimsical side of him is new. We’ve been pushing hard, and there hasn’t been a lot of time for fun—which, now that I think about it, isn’t good. That’s how people burn out. I make a mental note to allow for more mental health breaks during the workday.
“You’re one of eight?” I ask, because shit, that’s a lot of kids. I thought one brother and one sister were enough to drive me insane. I can’t imagine having seven siblings. “Where do you fall in the order?”
I’ll bet he’s the oldest. He’s got that organized, managing, look-after-everyone-and-everything personality. But on the other hand, he mentioned that his siblings have kids, and since he’s barely more than a kid himself, that probably means he’s not the oldest.
Follow My Lead: A Joy Universe Novel Page 5