Page 84 of Good Enough

“Yes. We are finished, Craig.”

“I still don’t have the full audit on your work so far. Tonight. Nine o’clock.” With that, he turned on his heel and stalked toward the trailer area.

Only when she could no longer hear his footfalls did she let loose a ragged sigh. She felt her entire body deflate, although the tension still radiated throughout her body.

A pair of hands fell gently on her shoulders. A warm breath of air blew on the shell of her ear. “More molting?” the voice asked lowly.

Kai shook her head. “No. Just shaking tail feathers. It was actually quite calm. But he wants a full audit of work so far at 9 p.m. tonight. Good thing I do reports daily, without fail; otherwise, there’s no way I’d be ready. Pretty sure that’s what he’s hoping for. What a clusterfuck,” she grumbled.

His thumbs brushed a few soft passes back and forth along the base of her neck. Then she felt a subtle kiss pressed to the back of her head through her ball cap. Allowing herself just a moment to lean back against the canvas of her director’s chair and, by extension, his chest as he stood directly behind her, she let him know she appreciated his comforting gesture.

“We’ll be ready for him. Apparently, it was worth it waiting up late for you to come to bed every night.”

She wasn’t so sure of that. Instead, perhaps it would have been in her best interest to spend more time in bed with him than filling out rehearsal reports.

Time to get your shit together, woman.

Despite how comfortable it would have been to turn into him, she pushed aside the desire and sat up straight, resettling her Dodgers cap over her eyes to shade the sun. “Are they ready?”

“Whenever you are,” he replied.

Kai nodded, putting her director's face on. She slid out of the chair and strode toward the group of actors. After briefly reviewing what she wanted to make sure she saw in the wide shots, she stepped back behind the camera and watched perfection at work. All worry about Big Bird’s douchebaggery, or Waters and his place in her life, now or later, was lost in her focus on the job at hand.

30

MARCH 27TH

Waters

And this is why some species eat their young.

Waters had seen and dealt with many assholes in his thirty-four years, but Big Bird was in a class all his own. Granted, he was keeping the worst of his comments to himself right now, probably concerned that Waters would make good on his earlier threats. He clearly wasn’t pleased with doing his audit in the kitchen since he’d been banned from the War Room. But his attitude, nonverbals, and facial expressions were almost as bad as what would have come out of his mouth.

There was a knock at the door, and then Demon entered the back door leading into the kitchen. “Sorry to bother you, Waters.” He was dressed in his undercover gear—short-sleeved, button-down shirt, khakis, and deck shoes. His dark hair was slicked back, and he had glasses perched on the end of his nose. “I’ve got that medical report you asked for.” A pointed look passed from the man to his superior as Demon passed him a folder with his finger in between some pages.

Kubrick looked up with a start. Her eyes were frozen on his. “Medical report?”

Waters waved her off as he took the folder, slipping a finger into the same slot that Demon provided. “Not a big deal, Kubrick. I just asked him to throw something together since you were meeting with Stapleton. Cataloging visits to the medic, etc.”

He opened the folder and squinted at it. He glanced at the page, then looked up at Demon. A quirked eyebrow was all he communicated, but to cover the moment, he said, “Is the stuntman accounted for?”

Demon shrugged. “He was less than communicative at first, but finally, he gave us the story. A fall. Shoulder was dislocated, but he actually put it back into the socket on his own. Shouldn’t be any lost time, although he was advised to lay low for a bit.”

Waters slipped a look at Big Bird from under his eyelashes. The man grunted and went back to the papers in front of him. Waters slid a quick look at Kubrick, who was looking at him with her own squinting, assessing gaze. Turning his back on the room, he laid the open folder on the counter that he had been leaning on. Very smoothly, he slipped the memo sheet into his shirt pocket, then pretended to peruse the documents in front of him. When he turned back to the room, the folder now closed, he handed it to Kubrick. “Everything looks fine. A few bumps and bruises, but other than the food poisoning cases, nothing major.”

Her expression let him know she was not as obtuse as Big Bird. She looked at Demon, then back to Waters. Just to let Waters know she was not amused at her discovery of one of his men on site and that she knew the report was not about one of her stuntmen, she flashed a flirtatious grin at Demon. “Thanks, Doc. Glad to hear it. Cup of coffee? I didn’t realize we had such a good-looking doctor on our set. I’ve been remiss.”

Demon’s expression was inscrutable, but his mouth tipped up on one side. “Don’t mind if I do, Kubrick. Right?”

“Yes. But you can call me Kai if you like.”

A soft snort came from the blond consultant off to his right. Waters saw Demon sneak a look at his boss before he sat at the far end of the kitchen table next to Kubrick. “I’ll stick to set protocols. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I was getting special privileges,” he said with a smirk. “But, thanks, Kubrick.”

She stood, grabbed a mug, poured Demon a cup of coffee, and then returned to her seat. Waters was back to his leaning position against the far counter, gazing pointedly at Demon.

After a cursory look at what was an honest but bogus report, she slid it over to Big Bird. He glared at her. “This should have been with the daily reports.”

Prick. You’re just pissed she had everything lined up for you, and you couldn’t dress her down for not being ready.

---