Page 37 of Hot Set

“Yeah, it’s a joke. I always crouch before assholes like you… No, thereisone here somewhere,” I replied.

Seth glared and crouched, too, his eyes roving over the floor as if it was hostile territory. “If it ends up in my foot, I’m suing,” Seth said matter-of-factly. “Just so you know.”

I snorted. “Oh, please,” I said. “I’ll have your people talk to my people, then countersue you into the Stone Age. You bragged you broke your leg andwalkedthree blocks to the ER without bitching. Now, you’re telling me all it takes to freeze you in your tracks is a measly little needle?”

“Careful, Brandon,” Seth said. “I can go home, y’know.”

I rolled my eyes and moved my hand over the tile. “You give me a migraine, and I don’t evengetmigraines.”

“So, here’s what we do,” Seth said conspiratorially. “We both move away from this spot and pretend that we don’t know anything about a needle. Eventually, someone will find it—”

“In their foot, Moron!”

Seth arched an eyebrow. “And? Better them than us,” he replied, shrugging. “Just saying.”

“Until we’re sued,” I said, “like I will sue you, Moron.”

“Like anyone would bother with something like that,” Seth said, smirking.

I didn’t bother to point out that Seth hadjustsaid he’d sue me if he ended up with a needle in his foot. More than likely, he was aware of the absurdity of what he’d said. Sometimes, it seemed like Seththrivedon being as absurd as possible. I was ninety percent sure most of what he said was for shock value.

“Come on,” Seth continued. “You need some bad karma to balance out all the good stuff you do.”

“How doesthatwork?” I asked.

“It just does,” Seth replied flippantly. “You don’t want to be boring, Brandon.”

I frowned and sat back on my heels. “Is that how I come across? Boring?”

Seth sighed and stretched, like a cat who’d spent all day lounging in the sun. With a smirk, he rocked back on his heels. “Not boring,” Seth said. “I mean, I’m sure you havesomeappeal. Probably your looks. And your money.”

“Wow,” I said. “What a compliment. You’re a real giver.”

“I know.” Seth paused and looked over my shoulder. “Don’t look now, but your dad is here.”

“You aren’t serious.”

“As a heart attack,” Seth said, climbing to his feet. “Speaking of which, want me to distract him with a fake heart attack?”

I slowly looked over my shoulder, praying to whatever god might listen, that Seth was just playing a terrible joke. But no, it was my father. He still wore a suit, a bad sign. It meant he’d just come from work and would likely be in an even worse mood than usual. I snapped my head back to Seth. “As tempting as that idea is, we both know you’d overact,” I said.

Really, I just hoped my father didn't end up finding the lost needle with his foot. Except I doubt it would pierce his high-end cordovan shoes.

With a sigh, I straightened and draped the repaired dress over one arm. Although I didn’t look at him, I heard Seth shifting behind me doing God knew what. I gave my father a small wave, although he clearly didn’t need it. He took his time walking to me, though, his sharp eyes taking in everything. It really wasn’t fair that, even as an adult, my fatherstillmanaged to make me feel like a misbehaving child.

And although I’d known my father’s presence would be something of an inevitability, especially after Mark hadmentioned his visit, I’d still irrationally hoped that he’d stay far away. It seemed that was definitely not the case.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, trying to muster up some enthusiasm, and failing.

Part of me, whether I wanted to admit it or not, recognized that this visit was probably deserved. Ihadmade a habit of flitting from hobby to hobby, at my father’s expense. I wasn’t so proud that I couldn’t admit that. And I knew not everyone had a wealthy family who could fund that kind of behavior, but I also felt cheated, as if I somehowstillhadn’t managed to find myself even after trying so many different things. And didn’t everyone deserve the opportunity to figure out who they were?

“Brandon,” he said, his eyes drifting around us. “This is interesting. It looks quite different from the last time I visited.”

He shot me a pointed look, and I frowned. “You visited set?” I asked. “When did that happen?”

He narrowed his eyes. “When you were in Virginia,” he said.

I feigned recognition. There was a bit of guilt for lying, even though it was ultimately harmless. And really, how could I possibly justifyknowingthat my own father had come to see me, and I’d just ignored him? No, at this point, there really weren’t many options except for continuing to lie.

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