Page 18 of Ship Wrecked

“Ten percent brats, ten percent frozen custard.” The producer tapped her chin. “Although that doesn’t account for her consumption of butter burgers.”

When he laughed, so did Nava. Even Maria looked pleased, even though she likely had no clue what the fuck they were talking about.

Without warning, Darrell and the other crew members erupted in loud laughter of their own, and both Nava and Maria turned their attention to the PA.

Peter sipped at his water, still smiling to himself.

There. That hadn’t been so hard. He’d had a friendly conversation with a colleague, and now he knew a lot more about her, which would make later conversations easier. They could reminisce about the Dells, or compare their favorite State Street restaurants, or praise the glory of balmy summer nights spent listening to music on the Terrace overlooking Lake Mendota.

To his surprise, he actuallywantedto talk with Nava again. She was interesting and funny and good at her job, and she seemed... warmer than he’d expected. He... liked her?

Yes. He liked her. Which was good, since they’d be working together for years to come.

“I put up my fifth video last week,” Darrell was saying. “Some people still haven’t realized I’m trolling them. Even after I enthusiastically praised the innocent romanticism of ‘Every Breath You Take’ and said Sting intended it as a guide to healthy relationships.”

Peter choked on his water amid more cackling.

Somehow, Ramón managed to groan and laugh at the same time. “Jesus.”

From across the table, Jeanine leaned toward Darrell, her brightgaze trained unwaveringly on the younger man. “Despite my best efforts, one of my closest friends danced to that song at her wedding.”

Darrell didn’t look away from Jeanine. In fact, he set both forearms on the table and canted his body forward, lessening the distance between them even further.

“Has either of them been arrested for stalking?” A smile played at the edges of his mouth, and Jeanine’s gaze dropped there for a split second.

“No.” Her voice had turned husky. “Not yet.”

He raised a single dark brow, and the gesture was so damn smooth, Peter had to fight the urge to applaud the young man. “I assume they’re divorced?”

“Yep,” she said, and they both snickered.

With a slight shift of her shoulders, Jeanine’s top dipped lower. So did Darrell’s eyes. And for the first time, the PA’s too-bright grin didn’t bother Peter in the least.

“Next week, I’m reacting to Ginuwine’s ‘Pony.’” When Jeanine bit her lip, Darrell’s grin widened. “I intend to discuss how refreshing I find his interest in equestrianism.”

That time, Peter sprayed his water across the table, and Jeanine thumped him vigorously on the back as he coughed.

“Thank you,” he wheezed.

“You okay?” Nava looked concerned and ready to leap across the table to his rescue. “Do you need more water?”

“I’m fine.” Another couple of coughs, and he could breathe again. “Just took a drink at the wrong moment.”

At Jeanine’s urging, Darrell was talking about his ideas for future videos. “I have a whole bit planned about how ‘Down Under’ extols the merits of cunnilingus. Also why I believe the phrase ‘Vegemite sandwich’ is a filthy metaphor. But after that, I’m not sure what song to do.”

Thank fuck Peter hadn’t taken another gulp of water, becausedamn.

“Peter.” Maria’s voice wasn’t overly loud, but it carried clearly across all the chitchat. “I know you listen to music between takes. Do you have any suggestions for Darrell?”

He did, in fact, listen to music between takes, mostly because it gave him a valid reason for not interacting with everyone else. With earbuds affixed and his cell in his hand, no one expected him to demonstrate sparkling wit or even basic sociability.

And once more, Maria had put him on the spot, dammit.

“Um...” With everyone turned toward him, his mind emptied of all musical knowledge. But he tried his best to push past the blankness, because there was something... Ah. Perfect. “Have you already done a video about the unabashed go-America patriotism of ‘Born in the U.S.A.’?”

Darrell nodded approvingly. “A classic of lyrical misinterpretation. That’s a great suggestion, Peter. Thanks.”

“If... if I come up with anything else, I’ll let you know,” he offered.

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