Page 86 of Good Enough

She was going through the desk, looking for something. She had no idea what for, but the loud thuds of objects hitting hard surfaces and the banging of opening and shutting drawers, along with the muttering under her breath, complete with various creative expletives coming through, made her feel better.

She looked up. “What the fuck was that?”

He didn’t answer.

“Goddamnit, Waters, you don’t answer for me. Ever. That was the agreement. You said you knew that I could take care of myself. That you would stay out of it unless he crossed a more serious line. Then you go in and put yourself in his crosshairs, protecting my ass on something I don’t need protection on.”

He still said nothing.

“Your motives are good. I get it. Protector mode and all that fucking horseshit. But now he’s going to be worse than ever. It’ll be a never-ending litany of how I need a man to speak up for me. That I can’t be trusted and am letting my consultant make my decisions for me.”

Still nothing.

“To top it all off, I discover you’ve got one of your team here, hiding out as our set doctor. I feel like a fucking idiot. Did it ever occur to you that this information might be important for me to know? Or even just general fucking courtesy? Fuck me, Waters. What the hell is going on?”

He shrugged. “SOP.”

“You bastard! Don’t give me that ‘standard operating procedure’ bullshit. This is a simple consulting job. The real project is out there finding my dumbass brother and getting him out of whatever stupidity he’s gotten himself into. Jesus! Just like when we were kids. Always in trouble and getting by with the skin of his teeth. Now he’s involving me in his dumbassery.” She rounded the desk and grabbed her backpack, pulling everything out of it and slamming the contents down on the worktable as she vented her rage on it. “Your guy should be out there helping look for Ka-Bar, not here.” She huffed out a frustrated breath, then looked him in the eye. “How many more?” she asked.

“‘How many more what?”

“Don’t play that game with me, Waters. You know exactly what I mean.”

He put his hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like he could care less that she was angry with him. “Does it matter? If I say one operative or I say one hundred operatives, you’re going to be pissed either way.”

“Yes, you’re right. I’m pissed, Waters! Pissed as fuck!” She pointed her finger at him. “You do not get to make decisions for me! You do not get to decide what I need and what I don’t. I’m not the one missing!” She had picked up a throw pillow from the couch during her temper tantrum and made it into a missile that she projected at his head with stunning accuracy.

His hands raised just in time to catch the pillow from hitting his face. He underhanded it back to her. “Missed. Care to try again?” he taunted her.

She gave a guttural scream in frustration and threw it at him again, still amazingly accurate for how mad she was.

He began stalking toward her, throwing the pillow back onto the couch as he passed. It was foolish of her, she knew, but she felt herself get more indignant with each step he took. She could feel and smell the smoke coming from the gears grinding inside her head.

“Finished?”

“Not even close,” she hissed.

She picked up another pillow and fired it at him, which he simply batted away as it reached him.

Then he was standing inches in front of her, and if she could have, she would have shot fire out of her eye sockets. “Okay, babe, you’ve had your hissy fit. Are you done?”

“I am not having a hissy fit, and don’t call me ‘babe.’”

His eyes went dark at her second hissed comment. “Oh, yeah, ‘babe,’” he emphasized the final word. “You’re having a hissy fit. My job, Kubrick, is to help you do your job. That means not only do I advise you on aspects of the film, but it also means I have your back. Always. I’ve warned you that Big Bird is an asswipe, and he is not to be trusted. I’ve told you repeatedly that I will decide when he has crossed certain lines and that I will deal with him accordingly.

“What I just did was not meant to make you feel incapable or vulnerable or whatever other shit you’re imagining in your head right now. Get that through your stubborn skull right now. I know you can take care of yourself. I have allowed you, again and again, to deal with the shitweasel, watching you take hit after hit, whether it’s about your cast, your crew, me, or, more importantly to me, you. But there are moments where I need to step in because I will not allow him to make you feel small.

“Tonight was one of those times. You knew you couldn’t hide those purchases from him forever, so I just headed off whatever venom he was going to project at you. Better me than you. He means nothing to me.”

He took one more step so that his lips were centimeters from hers.

“So I ask again. Are. You. Done?”

She glared at him. “No.”

She saw something change in his eyes, and for a moment, she felt herself tremble with something that was more thrill than fear.

“Good. Let’s put your righteous anger to effective use. You have three seconds to turn that wicked ass around and get into our bedroom before I put you over my shoulder and take you there myself. And I don’t plan to let you up for hours.”

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