Page 44 of Outside the Lines
I got it—we’d been about to fuck, and now Hollywood had descended in all its non-starry glory. “Hey, come on. I can’t leave you and I gotta go.” I tugged at his arm. “Plus, I think you’ll like this.”
His lips twisted, but he followed. Thank God.
We had to jog to catch up. “I didn’t see your text,” I said to Anna.
She flipped her wrist as if to brush the thought away. “It’s fine.”
We ended up back in my shop, gathered around the model. The art director grunted. “You were right. Better than before.” He eyed me. “We should put you under pressure more often.”
I must have blanched, because he got that gruff grin that let me know he was joking.
Except Simon hadn’t seen it, since he strode forward. “Hey, he worked damn hard for you people. Give him some credit.”
Anger had tinged his face red. I tried to stop him. “Si . . .” Now was not the time to go protective on me.
“No, I mean— You were there before opening every fucking day and worked straight through until after closing and we had to pry you away for lunch and dinner.”
I tried again, heat in my cheeks. “Si—it’s okay.”
“They ought to appreciate how lucky they are to have you.” He crossed his arms and leveled his gaze at me. “That’s all.”
The shop fell silent. Then Anna huffed a laugh. “We do, believe me.” She studied Simon. “Your passionate defense of his talent and work ethic, notwithstanding.”
The art director, who was normally pretty damn crotchety, wore the same smile as before. “I was poking fun.”
“Oh,” Simon said, and the anger slipped straight into horror. “I— Uh . . .” He loosened his arms.
The head of pyrotechnics merely seemed puzzled as she took Simon in.
Anna nodded at Simon. “Mr. Derry helped Ian during the week. And noted the problem with the altar.”
“That was my wife,” Simon said. “She’s better with the details. I’m—” He waved his hand.
“Plot focused?” She grinned.
Simon scrubbed the back of his head. “Something like that.”
Suddenly, I realized Anna was enjoying herself. Not at putting Simon on edge, but with the whole event. Like somehow the destroyed miniature set had made her week. “He paints better than I do,” I blurted out.
“I—”
“Do. And I’m the pro, so there.”
That quieted Simon down. He gave a helpless shrug.
“Wouldn’t happen to need a job?” That came from the art director.
Simon started and stared. “Wow. I own a comic book store. I can’t. But I would, if I could.” He glanced at me. “You weren’t kidding.”
“No,” I said. “I wasn’t.” About anything.
Anna raised an eyebrow at me, but after a moment turned back to the model. “We should figure out how we want to blow this up.”
I pulled Simon closer so he could overhear the discussion, and after a few moments of listening, he relaxed and leaned in. Most of it was jargon, but he remained enwrapped. When they finished and had a plan, they all stepped back from the model.
The pyrotechnics head rubbed her hands together. “I’ll have my people come over and start rigging it here, unless Ian objects. This is the closest building to the shoot.”
“My trailer is your trailer,” I said.
