Page 29 of Hot Set

Ihadn’t purposefully made it so Alex and I were at the set alone. It was just something that kind of happened. I’d only vaguely noticed as the hours ticked by and people went home, but somehow, the significance of it all didn’t register. I was too busy trying to figure out how to rearrange the schedule and how much money I might reasonably ask my father for. I just hadn’t imagined this many things going wrong, but they’d settled into a sort of controlled chaos, at least.

I was pouring over the script for the millionth time. One of the sets had been inadvertently destroyed during a shoot. What wassupposedto happen was that Seth was supposed to jump in the air and kick a zombie in the face. Instead, the wires got messed up, and he careened through several (thankfully sugar-glass) windows. Admittedly, it made for a cool shot, but now, that set was completely useless. I was trying to figure out what to replace it with or if to replace it at all.

“Brandon?”

I looked up, and there was Alex, his clothes stained with paint. I winced. This had been the third week that he’d been thrown in as a spare painter, and it was probably really annoying for him. I’d have been irritated if I’d gotten one job and kept having to do something else.

“Heading out?” I asked.

Alex nodded, looking absentminded. “I guess so,” he replied, rocking back on his heels. “What about you?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, stretching out in my chair. “I might just sleep over here tonight. Being the boss, I’m required to stay later than anyone else and get here earlier, too. Although it’s not hard to beat Seth here, at least. Some of you, though…”

“I’ve always prided myself on my punctuality,” Alex said. “I put that in all my applications.”

Strange. I couldn’t remember what I’d ever put about myself on applications. I usually just “bs-ed” my way through them as questions arose. But that was how I did most long questionnaires. Federal jury forms had been anightmare.How was I supposed to remember specifically how many years and months I’d lived where? Or how many places I’d lived in in the past ten years? Who even remembers crap like that?

Alex stared at me for a long moment, as if he was expecting a specific response from me, but I wasn’t getting it. I bit back a joke about how I had first-hand experience in knowing that he came on time. Clearly, having sex with me botheredhim, and althoughI’dliked the experience, I couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. The last thing I’d wanted was this awkwardness, this thick silence hovered between us.

“That’s cool,” I finally said.

Clearly, my sharp wit is unparalleled.

Alex’s smile wavered. “I put it on my FBI application, too,” he said. “I thought they’d probably like someone who was punctual. Art thieves and forgers move quickly.”

“I’ll bet they do,” I replied, although I hadn’t the faintest idea, “But I think you’ll be quicker than them.”

“We’ll see,” Alex said, with a one-shouldered shrug.

Now, I got it. He was working up to the FBI, the other thing that kept hovering between us. Or maybe it just kept hovering forme. I was the one who kept dismissing the matter every time Alex brought it up. The poor man probably thought I didn’t care.

“So, you have a second interview,” I said, trying to prove that Ihadlistened anddidcare.

Maybe I cared a little too much, although I definitely wasn’t going to tell Alex that. He was straight, and I needed to remember that. Even if he’d had sex with me, that didn’t mean he was attracted to me. It might’ve been an experiment or just a spur of the moment type deal. Heck, if I had a dollar for every spur of the moment mistake I’d made, I wouldn’t evenneedmy father to fund my projects.

“I do. I’m really excited to get a second interview. Most people don’t even get a first one,” Alex said.

“You must be something really special, then,” I said. “They see something in you.”

Unfortunately, I did, too. I saw the way Alex pursed his lips together and concentrated when he was trying to get a lookexactly right. And I saw the way he smiled from across the set. Ever since we’d had sex, I’d made an earnest attempt to stay away from him. It was clear that’s what Alex wanted, and I wasn’t going to impose. If he didn’t want to talk about it, we wouldn’t. I knew rejection well enough to accept it with grace.

And really, I shouldn’t have gotten involved, anyway. I wastechnicallyhis boss, and even I—with my complete lack of supervisory experience—knew you weren’t supposed to bang your employees.

“I suppose I have the right degrees,” Alex said, pulling me from my thoughts, “But I don’t know if thousands of dollars of student loan debt is really all that special these days.”

I’d never know.

“The one loan you can’t file bankruptcy on, huh?” I asked.

“I think so,” Alex replied, “But I’m not sure.”

Great. Now, we were talking about freaking student loans.

“But that’s not what I was getting at,” Alex said. “I was just reminding you that I have this second interview. In case you’d forgotten.”

“I didn’t forget.”

“You haven’t really made any attempts to find a replacement,” Alex replied, “And I don’t think that’s a good idea. What are you going to do if the FBI hires me, and you’re left high and dry without a make-up artist?”

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