Page 7 of Good Enough

“That would be my assumption as well.”

The telescreen changed over to a series of emails layered one on top of the other. “You should also know that while you were eye-fucking our client”—Waters ignored God’s jab and started sorting through the emails by sliding them around the screen with his fingers, placing them into a linear line by date, oldest to most recent— “Our golden-fingered hacker back-channeled his way into her work emails and followed a very interesting thread with her executive producer. It was because no matter the cost, a portion of the budget would be allocated to a rather large consulting fee. They’ve been fighting over it for several weeks, among other issues. Asshole is verbally, emotionally, and psychologically abusive, and he’s holding the funding hostage. And trust me when I say that what’s going on here in these emails is not even close to a civil argument. I can’t imagine what it’s like in person.”

Waters switched his focus to the CCTV footage and watched Kai’s Corvette finally pull out of the parking lot. “So whatever it is that’s going on, you think Ka-Bar’s asking us to watch over her.”

“I’ll see your left testicle and raise you my right testicle on that one. Question is, watch over her from what? His communication was very short and left a whole lot unsaid.”

“Maybe the producer’s the threat? Maybe Ka-Bar’s worried she’s in danger due to the animosity between them and thinks the guy will harm her? He sounds like a real douchebag.” Waters leaned in closer to read one of the emails in front of him. “I stand corrected. Guy sounds like a real ‘assclown.’ I’m stealing that one.”

“Shit, our Kubrick wannabe swears like a sailor, and creatively to boot. I curse nonstop, and I’ve never heard of half the things she’s called him. There’s another email where she calls him a ‘jizzmop.’ Kinda makes my dick hard just how unfiltered and unafraid she is.”

“Keep your ‘kinda’ hard dick in your pants,” Waters warned.

“Warning me off, are we?” God made a tsking noise. “Umm, yeah, ‘not interested,’ my ass.” He grunted. “But to return to the problem at hand, would he really be concerned about protecting her from a movie producer whom she could expose to the world with a #MeToo tweet? Fuck, no. She seems like a woman who can handle her shit just fine. She’d probably be more likely to kick him in the balls, leave him rolling on the ground for someone else to find, and call the EMTs to take him to the hospital.”

“So you’re thinking she just works for an asshole, and Ka-Bar feels she needs protection from something else. Since he can’t come home now to help her, he’s asking us to step in.” Waters considered that angle. “Or possibly he’s not coming home and hiding because something he’s doing is bringing danger to her door, so he’s calling us to step in.” Both seemed far-fetched to him, but then stranger things had happened. “What’s her connection to Ka-Bar?” This was probably the most puzzling question of them all. The two individuals couldn’t be farther apart—Future Hollywood Powerhouse Director and Military Golden Boy working special operations.

His woman, maybe? Lucky bastard.

The ping of yet another dead sucker stick hit the garbage can rim and bounced to the bottom. Another wrapper began to be peeled off another sucker. “No fucking clue. King Midas didn’t find anything on the first go around. He’s working on a deeper dossier dive on both of them. He should have something by this time tomorrow.

“In the meantime, take that script, go through it, and make the corrections she needs. Do it tonight. Get it to Cherry first thing in the morning and tell her to put together the contract for triple the pay of what she’s offering. Need to make it look good, at least. According to the emails, they easily have that amount in her budget proposal. Even though she’ll think she’s hiring us, we’re doing this as a favor to Ka-Bar.

“Once the paperwork is complete, call our director girl, Kubrick, and set up another meeting. Let’s get her under our surveillance right away. I don’t care what you have to do or how you do it, but we need eyes on her fast. This is a priority for you. You stay with Kubrick twenty-four seven. And while you’re working with her, you can keep an eye on this slimeball producer, but I’m telling you, something about this Ka-Bar connection is making my gut roll.”

“Stop eating all that sugar, then.”

God laughed. “Watch it, dickhead. Between her snark and whatever smolder is going on between you two—and yes, I saw her reactions to you, too—I think our Kubrick is going to be a handful. Despite my overloading shit meter, I think I’m really going to enjoy watching you try to handle her.”

There was a distinct click and silence.

Assclown. The name works for him, too.

Waters pulled up a still from the CCTV in the parking lot on the telescreen. He zoomed in on a shot from when she was getting out of her car to come into the office and locked it in place. His pointer finger traced down the right side of her face, which was turned to check for traffic before crossing the lot to the door.

I can handle her.

He straightened his shoulders, giving himself a mental shake. Nope. No handling. Per the rules, she was off-limits. Sex? Yes. More than that? No. He wasn’t allowed to attach himself to someone, making that person vulnerable. And even if he were allowed to do so, he wouldn’t because he couldn’t take on any more guilt.

3

FEBRUARY 9TH

Kai

The default ringtone blared, and Kai startled. She frowned. Unknown caller. Shaking her head and mumbling about Russian bots, she focused back on her laptop, clicking through the renderings of the obstacle course she was designing for daily workouts on the set. Eventually, the phone stopped ringing.

As she scratched a note to her six-page list, the phone began ringing the default tone again. The frown turned to a scowl. Insistent bastards. She ignored it.

A few seconds after it stopped, it began again. She hit the Block Caller button.

No luck. The same number popped up on her screen within thirty seconds of blocking them. Now, she was pissed off. She threw her pen down, swiped the answer icon, and hit the speaker button.

“Whomever the fuck this is, I am not selling you my timeshare, voting for your candidate, or sending ransom for some random woman screaming you’re threatening to chop off her hand.”

Silence. Then, after a beat, a voice came over the line. “I don’t need a timeshare, the elections aren’t for another year and a half, and I’m not Russian. I also promise not to chop anything off anybody.” After a split second, he amended, “At least, not today. Although it is still early in the day, so I guess I shouldn’t make that promise.”

“Shit.” Kai shivered and cleared her throat. “My apologies, Waters. The number was listed as unknown, and I don’t answer numbers I don’t know. I assumed you were a telemarketer.”

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